Appointment Confirmation Number Form

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Small anecdote.When I worked in USA, I fell and broke my jaw. I could not go straight to the ER because I was leading an expedition along part of the AT.I went to the ER when I got back, I presented them with my insurance card, and they took x rays, and provided care.Then, I found out that my insurance would not cover this, because my injury was one covered by “workers comp” which is when your employer is liable for the cost of medical treatment based on their insurance for employees injuries at work.THEN I found out that I couldn’t claim on workers comp because you have to report the incident within 12 hrs. Which is not possible if you are trekking through wilderness with no means of communicating (this was pre mobile phones)After a YEAR of discussion and disagreement, I wound up having to pay for the treatment myself. Out of pocket. Despite having several million dollars worth of cover on my insurance. Despite not having done anything negligent.Several years later, I had occasion to claim on my medical insurance in the USA again. Again, I presented my insurance card, and received treatment. AGAIN I ended up having to have extended discussions with my insurer, who, in this instance EVENTUALLY covered the expense.When I am in the UK, however, I simply arrive at a hospital, get treatment, and go home, safe in the knowledge that, unless I need further treatment, which I also won’t have to worry about the cost of, I need never worry about it again.I mean, OK the staff in USA were usually NICER to me (NOT always, I have received some amazingly kind and warm care in UK, even just as the visitor of a patient), but, the statistical outcomes in USA are actually worse, the faff to get anything covered even if you ARE insured, and the fact that unless you can afford health care in the USA you are deemed not to deserve any, means that no, I would much rather the UK system.

Kindly read and provide your opinions.I am an Indian girl. I got placed in one of the marketing companies during my last of year of btech in banglore and moved there. I was in a relationship with a boy from past 4 years. During my stay in Bangalore, my boyfriend visited me from Delhi. Eventually we had a great time together. We decided to have sex but couldn't be successful as we both were virgins, however in that failure attempt I conceived ( don't know how). And after few days he left to his home.I was not happy with the job and also didn't want to stay away from my family who was in Delhi. So I worked for around 5 months, resigned and moved back to Delhi to prepare for government services.The moment I signNowed my home in Delhi, I was so much overwhelmed to meet my mother that I ignored the fact I missed my periods. My boyfriend reminded me many times to keep a check on my periods and go for the home kit pregnancy test. As I had a very unhealthy lifestyle in Bangalore, so I thought my periods delayed due to excessive weight gain. I ignored again.Gradually, I started feeling morning sickness, nauseousness, and a back pain. And finally I took a pregnancy test at home hiding from everybody at home. It came positive and shook my world.I contacted my boyfriend. And we both knew we wanted to abort as firstly I just completed my studies, my whole career was before me and secondly, our families didn't know about our affair so it will be a shock to both the families and thirdly I were not mentally ready to take the responsibility of a child, any boyfriend is always ready.In the name of jogging, meeting my friends, I used to meet my boyfriend to visit gynaecologist. I was advised to go for ultrasound. During the process of ultrasound, I thought it would be a peanut size, however we saw our baby, little fingers and developing. I was 2.5 months pregnant then. It again shook us. And now we both started to have feelings for the baby. My boyfriend warned me to not have motherly feelings as it will make abortion difficult. We took an appointment for abortion and left the hospital.On the day of abortion, again I lied to my mother that I am going to meet my female friend and left the house completely broken. We both went to hospital, I was taken inside a room adjacent to labour room. There I saw women in labour and waiting for their child to arrive. And I was there to kill my child. I broke out. I started crying and ran away from the room to meet my boyfriend waiting outside in the lobby. I hugged him. He collected my belongings and we sat outside the hospital crying. One nurse came out to ask us if we wanted to continue, I refused to go inside. We thought we will go for the baby.Then and there, my boyfriend called his mother and told in one straight line that my girlfriend is pregnant. We took an auto and directly went to meet his family. That was the first time, I met his family and his family came to know about me. His mother assured me that she would talk to my family and to get married. His father was standing there for whole time. His mother ordered spicy food for me and hugged me. My mind was blank.That day late Evening, I signNowed home and my mother was watching TV. She had no clue what is happening to her daughter. At that time she was alone at home as my father was working outside Delhi and used to come in 3–4 months. Anyhow, I gathered courage to tell my mother the truth that I have a boyfriend and that too I am pregnant. She started crying and cursing her own life to have a daughter like me. We both started crying. We both didn't have the courage to tell this news to my father as he was anyway from his home.The only thing was to get rid off this baby. And again I became blank. Everything was destroyed in these days. She called my boyfriend to go for abortion. My boyfriend came next day morning. And I went again to same hospital with numb mind. I went to the same room from where I ran out the previous day. The same doctor and the same nurse. This time I was numb.During the medical termination of pregnancy, I was given some injections which I don't know what were they. But after one injection, I felt labour pain for few time and another injection to eliminate that pain. Then finally I was shifted to OT and anaesthesia was administered. After that I slept and woke up with no child inside me and my boyfriend sitting beside me. He dropped me home and left. .Still I don't know what was right and what was wrong. But when I came back home after abortion, I slept that night with so much relief and felt as if my mother removed a big rock from my head and I felt so light and free.But after few days, I went into depression and started feeling guilty and missed something inside me. I felt incomplete.Gradually with time, I got the hold of my life and accepting it as a part of my life. It's been 3 years now. And still it is buried in some part of my mind which I don't discuss with anyone. This secret is among me, my boyfriend, his family and my mother. My father and my siblings have no idea of anything.Right now, I am happy. My boyfriend is well settled with a nice job. I told my father about him, and everything went well. Both families have met and soon we will get married.I always think to myself what would have happened of I would not have gone for abortion??I would have a child but how would my life be, Will my family be able to forgive me? Will I be respected in my husband's home?What would have happened to my career?Am I weak that I could not save my child from so called societal norm? Or have I taken a right decision to be financially independent before having a child?To make peace with myself, I talk to my child that i have not rejected you but postponed your time of arrival in my life so I can be psychologically and financially ready to accept you and take care of you whole heatedly. So you get the love from your maternal and paternal grandparents. So you will have a good life. The moment you come back, that would be the happiest moment in my life. Waiting for you.

There are a lot of responses a therapist can have when a client cancels or doesn’t show up for an appointment.In private practice, if the client doesn’t show, we don’t get paid. It can be very frustrating when we don’t get at least 24 hour notice so that we can fill the spot. No show no pay. No one wants clients like that. That means an uncomfortable conversation has to arise even though it was discussed during the first session and during the hippa-forms- signing process. Some therapist are comfortable with it but I’m still a little uncomfortable with it. I recognize how sensitive clients can be and how easily they can be triggered by money talks. Some clients would like to believe that we are willing to behave like a friend and pretend money is not exchanged. And that not showing up is just one friend understanding another friends’ priorities. I just keep practicing how to have the talk. Sometimes it goes OK. Got to do what you gotta do.We get on the phone and send text messages to clients on our waiting list and wait. We wait to see if we can fill that slot of time. Because at the end of the day, we have bills to pay.We might over analyze the situation wondering whether the absence is about ambivalence, fear or resistance towards growth.We might make a note in the chart to ensure that we bring up the previous bullet point in session to confirm and explore or disregard our wondering.We might get concerned: was it something we did or said that scared off or offended the client? Is the client bored with our sessions? Did the client spontaneously heal? Did they decide to try out a new therapist? Did they simply forget? Get hurt or die in an accident? Commit suicide?With time and experience, and with therapists certain personality types, sometimes we spend merely seconds thinking about it. Experience tells us, we will find out eventually or we won’t. We normally make a note in the chart of an absence and any questions we might want to bring up in the next session.We’ll use that time to catch up on paperwork! Do a little research for the next client, or do some personal readings. Sometimes when a client short-notice-last minute, skips a session, it’s a relief. It’s a mini-spontaneous-non-negotiatiable vacation. It’s not that we don’t want to see the client, because a lot of us enjoy our clients. We enjoy our clients journey, strength, courage and faith that our work together it’s going to help them live a better life.I think most of us, therapist and client alike, simply get it. Just because you’re in therapy doesn’t mean life doesn’t still keep happening. Sometimes we just need a day off. And sometimes we just don’t feel like it. Sometimes there’s an emergency. Sometimes we just don’t wanna leave the house because it’s nasty outside.Two minutes later: I just had a client cancel. This client would be the first of my day. Normally, I would try to fill it. It actually did give me two hours to fill it. Sometimes, I can do it. But instead, I’m going to have another cup of Coffee.I’m healing up from house repairs. It can be mentaly and physically draining. It was. So, I’m going to take a spontaneous-non-negotiatiable-mini-vacation right now. I’m going to sip my coffee and do some more reading on quora.

Travelers planning for a trip to United States for vacation, visiting family and friends, or medical treatment need to apply for a nonimmigrant visa or US B2 tourist visa. The steps to apply for the visa are explained in the following section:-Fill up the online formIn order to fill out the application form you have to open DS 160. After filling all the required details in the application verify all the information entered and then submit the application. After submitting the application the DS 160 confirmation page will be generated.Pay the US visa feeAfter submission of DS 160 form next step would be to make the visa fee payment. Choose the right visa category and the language of interview before making the payment. You can either make the payment in the bank by generating the Stanley receipt or you can make the payment online if you have an Indian account. After the payment within few hours the slots will open for consulate interview and finger printing. Book the slots by selecting your preferred location, date and time.Take a print of the appointment confirmation page where the date and time for the interview and fingerprinting would be mentioned.Accumulate the documentsBasic document Checklist for the ApplicantOriginal Passport [Current and previous if applicable].Financial statements [Sanctum will suggest you the balance and the way to project the statement].Employment Proof and Pay Slips.Income Tax Returns or Form 16 A.Asset papers (land / property)[if any].NOC for Government Employees.Retirement letter and pension related documents [If retired from Government Institution]Basic document Checklist for the Inviter / SponsorPassport first, last and visa pages.Green Card or Naturalization certificate [if any].Financial statements with sufficient balance if sponsoring.Employment proof and Pay slips.Rental Agreement and/or Utility Bill.Finger printing and interviewAt the day of finger printing you have to carry your original passport, DS-160 confirmation page, appointment confirmation page. Photographs are generally taken at the time of fingerprinting. During the biometrics the Embassy authorities will scan your fingerprints, put a stamp on your appointment confirmation page and DS 160 confirmation page. Next day for the interview you have to carry the stamped DS 160 confirmation page & the appointment confirmation page along with all the other documents above. Both the days, you have to signNow 30 minutes ahead of the scheduled time as there could be a long queue which can take your time.Sanctum Consulting can be the right place for you to take visa help.

Did you know that a million dollars in U.S. currency weighs just ten kilograms? It's true. A freshly-minted $100 bill weighs in at slightly over a gram, and 100 of them is ten thousand dollars. 100 of those stacks, and there's your million.It’s not often that 10 kilograms - 22 lbs of anything can change your life. But on February 25th, 2014, that’s exactly what happened.  Day 1: $1,000,000 As the man in the gray suit walks away, I shout after him “Hey, come back here. Who are you? What’s this all about?” He does not look back and quickens his pace. Between the choice of chasing down a stranger, or securing what appeared to be stacks of currency, I chose the currency. We can resolve the issue of his identity later, but a loose sack of cash is, well, a loose sack of cash. I look through the contents again. Bundles of US$100 bills, stacked a hundred bills deep, wrapped in standard $10,000 bank bands. A quick count revealed that there were precisely a hundred of those stacks in the bag, and spot-check riffle-counts of the $10k bands suggest that there are no short-stacks within. These were full bands of $10,000 apiece of non sequential USD$100 bills, and I was holding what appears to be a million even in cash. And it feels like just as many question are swirling in my head, as I feel my pulse pounding in my skull. Who was that guy? Why me? What is this all about? But the most urgent thoughts swim past the dizzying deluge of unanswerable questions. Fakes. It’s one thing to inadvertently be the recipient of counterfeit currency; as you’re reading this very sentence, a clerk at a retail store somewhere in your city just accepted a counterfeit bill and made change from the real money in the till.  But to be in possession of a life-changing amount of counterfeit currency of the United States of America? Well, that’s sort of thing that can bring the full might and wrath of their law enforcement apparatus on your head. My emotions swing wildly between the elation of instantaneous wealth, and sheer terror that I was minutes away from being snatched from my home and corralled into a Federal holding cell, where I will grow old within its walls. Terror was the stronger of the two emotions, and I quickly went to work. First things first: the bag had to go. If there is a GPS tracking device embedded in its seams, it would take too long for me to root it out. Better to incinerate it, and make sure that whatever trail it was laying stops at a dead-end for its pursuers. I pour the stacks of bills into an empty duffle back from my garage, and lock the bag in my condo. There’s an abandoned marina just a mile from my home and I get in my car and drive straight to the docks, at the top of the posted speed limit. After pouring enough Kerosene on the bag to see the shimmering mist of petroleum evaporate above it, I lit a book of matches and threw it in the middle of the mass. A satisfying “Whoomph” lights up the fire, and I watch the edges of the bag curl and burn - sizzling in the midmorning sun. As the remnants of the bag’s embers swirl around the scorched mark on the docks, I drive back to my condo, pulse still pounding in my skull.I still haven’t figured out if the bills are real or not, but if this morning’s bag-drop was an attempt to pin a piece of deeply incriminating evidence bearing a tracking device … well that plan has been thwarted. Or delayed, at the very least. What do I do? What should I do? Call the authorities? Consider how it would sound: “Hi, Police? Somebody dropped a million dollars in cash at my home. I don’t know if it’s fake or not. Please help.” Would you believe such a ridiculous story? I wouldn't. Any reasonable law enforcement dispatcher would consider the caller legally insane, and I'd be arrested on the spot and sent to psychiatric care. If the money was real, it’d be seized and I'll never see it or spend it. If it was fake, they’d find a way to stick “possession of counterfeit currency” charge on me, and I'll be shoved into a Federal concrete box, draining the best years of my life away, only to be released when I can’t chew solid food any more. No. The only recourse is to handle this myself. I call an old college friend practicing criminal defense law in New York City: “Hey Roger, it’s Kai. How’ve you been?” “I'm cool. It's been a while. What’s up man.” “We should catch up soon in person. But I’m calling because I need something.” “Ok, shoot.” I swallow hard - it’s difficult to even say the words: “Who’s the best CrimDef lawyer you know in California, who defends against Federal charges?” A moment. His voice lowers noticeably. “Shit, man. You in some kind of trouble?” “I’m not sure yet.” I said, truthfully. “But I need someone experienced and smart ... someone who you’d hire, if you’re facing serious attention from the Feds." He lets out a long exhale. “Vincent King. Former rockstar DOJ prosecutor in D.C. Had a change of heart halfway through his rotation in Maryland, when he was securing Life sentences for “interstate drug transportation” charges on young Black kids who were busted muling for the cartels. Was offered a fast-track promotion straight to the U.S. Attorney’s office but went rogue. He set up independent shop in San Francisco, fighting Fed cases. Heavy hitter clients, but makes a point of refusing to represent anyone accused of murder or human trafficking. Intimate knowledge of Federal prosecutorial procedures and evidence-collection protocol. Smart. Methodical. Very expensive.” “Perfect.” “I did mention ‘very expensive?’” “You did.” “I’ll send his contact information now.” =================================“I’m sorry - Mr. King is in court all day and won’t be back in the office. His earliest appointment is tomorrow morning after a client meeting. Shall I book him for 11am for you?” “Yes, thank you Marta.” “We’ll see you tomorrow at 11 then.” I look at the digital clock in my kitchen -  it reads 10:44am. Just me and a stack of bills which may or may not be fake, no formal legal representation for over 24 hours. It’s going to be a long day. Taking even a few of these bills to a bank to corroborate their authenticity is out of the question. If a bank officer confirms they are fraudulent, I’ll be arrested on the spot, and since I haven’t hired counsel, I’d be at the mercy of the Public Defender’s Office - the most overworked and underpaid division of the American Criminal Justice system. No, thank you. The next number I dial is an old friend, Robert Kendrick, sole proprietor of ‘Secher Nbiw - The Golden Path,’ a gold bullion dealer with a whimsical Dune reference in the name of his shop. I’ve known Robert for over a decade; his business deals in large amounts of (mostly) legal cash. By necessity, he has a high-end currency counter/ counterfeit detection device in his office, which can swiftly count and verify large sums of money with precision. “Bobby, it’s me.” “Hey, what’s up.” “Can I come to your office - like right now?” “Sure, what do you need?” “I, uh, came into some money. Long story, and I really don’t want to get too much into the details … but I’m wondering if you’d be willing to run the bills through your counter for me? I’m not 100% sure they’re real, and I’d like a discreet way of verifying them. If they are, I’m going to pick up some bullion as well.” “Sure man. Happy to help. How much money are we talking about?”“$60,000” I flinch at that - I hate lying to friends, but at this point, I have no idea who to trust. Though if you want to be technical about it, I did come across $60,000. I am just simply not telling Kendrick about the other $940,000 that accompanied the $60k in the satchel that dropped into my life just three hours ago. “Come on by.” I pull apart a few $10,000 currency bands and start plucking random $100 bills from the middle of every 10k stack to assemble a randomized sample of the entire million. 100 bills, wrap it up. 100 bills, wrap it up. 100 bills, wrap it up. Three bands, thirty thousand dollars, randomized and fully assembled to be tested for authenticity. “Half” of my alleged $60k windfall. The rest of the loose bills are refolded back so there remains 97 stacks of $10k racks, re-wrapped and properly sorted. In 30 minutes, I will figure out if I’m rich, or holding on to enough illicit contraband to send me to Federal Prison for the rest of my life. =============================The Golden Path, like most bullion dealers, work out of small, highly secured office covered by multiple layers of security. At any given moment, Robert may have several hundred thousand dollars in cash or gold, silver and platinum bullion on the premise, it pays to be careful. One of the few civilians in California with a Concealed Carry Weapons permit, Kendrick and I met on pistol gun range ten years ago; we bonded over shooting .45 ACP slugs down-range. He and I spent countless hours debating the relative merits of his preference for single-action 1911s, vs my bias toward double-action SIG-Sauer P220s. In the bullion business, you learn to know the boundaries of money-laundering laws, and know how to walk right up to the edge without triggering reporting thresholds. Drop US$10,000 in cash or more at a car dealership, bank or bullion dealer in a single day’s transaction, and the U.S. authorities gets very interested in the source of your funds. By law, these business that receive such sums of cash must fill out invasive forms to tie the transaction to you and your Social Security Number. Keep cash transactions below US$10,000, and you can avoid much of that intense scrutiny. “Welcome back man. I haven’t seen you in a while.” A discreet man, Kendrick does not inquire further about the source of the cash. In the business of buying and selling gold bullion, you learn to comply with the letter of the law, while avoiding conversational topics that can jeopardize one’s own plausible deniability. While his clientele is mostly legitimate, I’m certain the most lucrative of his customers are criminals - and he smart enough to know not to ask the sort of questions that open up a line of liability for him.  So long as the proper theatrics of anti-money-laundering protocols are observed, everyone is technically in the clear. I hand him the three $10k stacks and he pulls the bands off them and puts the entire block in his high-speed currency counter. After a second, the machine spools up and the digital counter swiftly runs from zero to three hundred. Thirty thousand dollars. “It’s real.” It’s real. His words hang in the air for a moment, and it takes a moment for them to sink in. One million dollars. Genuine currency of the United States of America, the most recognized and accepted form of money in the world - denominated in crisp, non-sequential bills. I hold my face as neutral as possible, but my excitement made me slightly dizzy, and I am glad I was sitting down. “What’s the spot price of Gold today?” Kendrick’s eyes drift to his laptop computer, where the current day’s commodities prices were fed to him via a live stream. “$1334 Ask, $1335 Bid.” I nodded my understanding.Precious metals bullion trade in troy ounces, and prices are quoted on a per troy oz basis; depending on the specific type of bullion (bars, coins, make), there are different markups from the quoted price. Depending on the specific form, Gold is typically marked up by USD$20 to $60 over the day’s quoted Bid price, and sells for $5~10 over the Ask. “What do you have in inventory right now for gold?” “The usual. South African Kugerrands. American Eagles. Canadian Maples. Oh, I do have a lovely Credit Suisse 5oz bar that somebody just sold to me, and I’m happy to let it go for $25/oz over spot.” I quickly did the mental math calculation. With the hard-cap spending limit of $10,000 before I trigger any mandatory anti-money-laundering paperwork, $1335/oz works out to about seven troy ounces of bullion I can buy, without forcing Robert to fill out invasive forms about me and my identity. “I’ll take the 5oz Credit Suisse bar, and two American Gold Eagles.” Kendrick pulls out a calculator and taps in the numbers, “So five troy ounces at 25 over spot plus Eagles at $50 over spot works out to nine thousand six hundred and -“ “Take ten grand and keep the change.” I interrupt. “I will be back for more.” He raises his eyebrow, but says nothing. “Thank you. I’ll be right back.” He counts back $20,000 and hands it to me, taking the $10,000 in the back room of his office and returning with the 5oz Swiss bar and two heavy 1oz American Eagles, along with a receipt for US$9675. I pause for a moment and hand him back one of the $10,000 stacks. “I know the limit is $10k in transactions per day. Consider this pre-payment for a purchase tomorrow. Your call, on a mix of anything up that totals up to $9500. Keep the rest for you and Katie.” A barely-perceptible smile flickers across his face, then his face was clear again. “Sure thing.” There’s nothing like the feeling of holding physical gold - the density, color and heft of the metal is like no other substance on earth, and it is no wonder that since its discovery, every culture on Earth treated gold with awe and respect. With 18 hours left before I can understand my legal options, there’s only two things I know for certain: 1. The money is real. 2. At least one person knows exactly where I live, and where the money was dropped off. I need to get mobile. I need to get mobile and off the grid ASAP.... to be continuedIf you'd like to be the first to get updates to this story, please add me kai chang 張敦楷 (kaichang) on Twitter. Part 2 (of 10) is being written right now, will be announced on Twitter. Please follow for updates on the saga of the Quora Millionaire! :D

An appointment confirmation letter is a formal document used to verify that an appointment has been scheduled and confirmed. It serves as a reminder for both parties involved, ensuring that there is clear communication about the date, time, and location of the meeting.

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