Yesterday afternoon was scary. I found out that my husband Art's Medicare Part B hadn't been set up yet by our local Social Security office. The interviewer forgot to talk about it in March, and I forgot to ask. Art is retiring on May 1, and we need to sign up with our HMO for the Medicare Advantage plan so he rolls directly from his employment-covered medical insurance. Inside my head, the Bag Lady took over.

I ran through the worst-scenario in my head: Medicare Part B doesn't come through until after May 1. Art is without insurance coverage. When he tries to get into Medicare Advantage after a short lapse of coverage, he can't get into the plan because he's 67 and has the usual pre-existing blood pressure and cholesterol issues. Our savings all go to his medical care. We become a statistic.

Not only did I run through this scenario, I trapped it in my head and replayed it multiple times during the evening, relating it to a friend over dinner and to my sister over the phone. At 3 a.m. I woke up for another replay. At 4 I went back to sleep and woke up at 7 feeling groggy.

Husband Art stopped by the Social Security office this morning and got enrolled in Medicare Part B. End of story.

But not really. I was feeling confident, almost cocky, that blogging about the Bag Lady would exorcise her from my head. I see that's not the case. I can talk all I want, plan every last detail I can think of. And there will be things that come up anyway.

Every now and then, I'm still afraid of my Bag Lady.