I was going to write a happy entry about how my pre-Mother Mother's Day was awesome because my husband knows me and took me to see Iron Man 2 and bought me a burrito. Then, I briefly thought about writing about how the Never Ending Home Renovation Project® is about to start this week-end because my father isn't capable of actual advance plans. Or possible about other, Serious Things have been happening.
But no, I really want to write a crankypants blog about how I want Aetna and my GP to DIAF.
I'm sick. Starting sometime last Monday, I woke up feeling kind of blech with a sore throat and swollen glands. Generally, that means I should just get a little more sleep and stop stressing, which I did. And then? It got worse. Now it's a chest cold. I thought it was gone by last Friday, but no. It came back in FULL FORCE, completely with a fever and Christmas boogers on Sunday. OB suggested I phone my GP for an appointment to make sure it wasn't A Plague or something.
My normal doctor wasn't in and my preferred back-up was also out, so I got to see the doctor I like least; the one who makes me feel like an idiot. And of course, he's all LULZ! It's a virus and you should feel better, oh, yesterday, because they only last about 10 days. I could have saved my 10$ and watched Keeping Up with the Kardashians or something for that. Then, he informs me I need to see the office manager on the way out.
I want to pause and mention I have Aetna for insurance. Here is what they cover: sick visits and related treatment, random things they deign coverable. Here is what they don't cover: EVERYTHING ELSE. Why do we have this insurance? Because it's what his job offers and we could not afford the better insurance offered by my work nor could we afford private pay.
What makes this even more awesome is that sometimes, the system glitches and it appears we don't have insurance, eg. Steven has been terminated. This isn't a hard fix since his cheque very obviously states that we've paid, but sometimes it takes a week or two to straighten out. Generally, the doctor's office resubmits the claim and all is well. On rare occasions, it takes a couple months of the office resubmitting paperwork to finish the claim.
Having told my doctor's office this, I naïvely assumed that they would, I don't know, let me know when there was an issue and either they can resubmit or Steven can phone them and THEN they can resubmit.
I assumed that was the reason the office manager wanted to talk to me. No, apparently I have a balance of 1100$ and oops, they just forgot to tell me. I have not received a single bill from them. So I'm wtfing over this and asked if they've tried, oh, resubmitting the claim like I've asked and, haha, nope, they've been sent to collections and whoops, no one has sent me a bill from them either. One of life's great mysteries, huh.
Now I'm being told they're going to fire me as a patient and pursue this, so fine. I asked about a payment plan and they're looking for 100$ a month.
Let's review: I am 5 months pregnant, I am out on disability indefinitely, and, let's be honest, we weren't living the high life before I was pregnant. I have these other bills, like my car insurance, that like to be paid and, oh, I don't know, sometimes I like to eat, so I guess that's out. I countered with 10$.
This means I will basically be paid off with this by the time I am 39. Wonderful.
I can't even think what I could possibly have done to keep this from happening. I was told everything was fine when I'd gone in for sick visits, I've never received a call or a bill, and I haven't received any suggestions from my insurance company that they weren't doing their job.
Without getting into the political aspects of this, since I am not interested in debate and I am not going to understand your side about how things are fine they way they are especially after today, this is why things need to be reformed. I pay a stupid amount of money a month to get at least basic care and I apparently can't even get that.
Showing posts with label appointments. Show all posts
Showing posts with label appointments. Show all posts
20 May 2010
06 May 2010
Gotcha!
I'm officially 18 weeks pregnant now and the one thing that I have gotten from the last, oh, 12 weeks, is that pregnancy is nature's big gotcha. You enjoy sex, once you get the hang of it, you experiment and it just gets better, then your body starts whispering "...baby...baby..." and shorts the rational part of your brain out, leaving you thinking that if sex is that awesome, pregnancy must be amazing.
GOTCHA!
You get knocked up and everything everyone ever told you about how great pregnancy is turns into a dirty, rotten liar. There's gas and nausea and weight gain in places like your elbows and oh, don't forgot the random black hairs. The image of pregnancy is to real life what a tampon ad is to a real period.
The real sucker punch is the pregnancy amnesia after that allows you to tell people how amazing it was and for you to repeat the process again. That's the killer.
We went for our Level II scan this week, our first since the one I had for bleeding at 7 weeks. I guess the good news is little Hieronymus no longer rocks the vestigial tail. Or looks like a demented seahorse. Or apparently has even a modicum of modesty. First view, Hieronymus was upside down with legs wide open. I am sure that there is a position in pole dancing that would perfectly illustrate what we saw. What we also saw is that, without any doubt, our little parasite is in possession and apparently enamoured of a set of ladybits. That's my little princess, right there, taking after Mama.
The truth of this is that I expected something very different from pregnancy. I grew up hearing about how my mother had a wonderful, complication free pregnancy. She skiied til she was 7 months and that was only because she couldn't do up her boots. She was playing tennis the week she had me. Yes, she had a tough delivery and I was late, but her pregnancy was fine.
I expected that and, in a way, I feel gypped that I am having the pregnancy I'm having. Honestly, though, I should have realized this was my own experience and not to judge based on other people's. I also know there are women who are far worse than me, for whom my issue would be just a little drop in the bucket.
The lost of control over my body is hard to accept for me. Early on, there was a subchorionic haemotoma that put my at risk for miscarriage. Then, my sacroiliac joint is out of whack, cutting down on my mobility: no twisting, limited movement, sit when possible. This Monday, it's placenta previa and all the modified rest that goes along with it. I'm basically left with watching movies, reading/internet, and swimming for at least the next 10 weeks. It's frustrating.
I know this all sounds sour grapes. I did choose this, I wanted a baby, but I wanted to enjoy the time gestating as well. All the problems make me feel detached from the experience. Having an anterior placenta doesn't help either; it means I feel her kicks more like vague wiggles.
I wanted this to be more upbeat, but I'm feeling very achy and disenfranchised right now.
GOTCHA!
You get knocked up and everything everyone ever told you about how great pregnancy is turns into a dirty, rotten liar. There's gas and nausea and weight gain in places like your elbows and oh, don't forgot the random black hairs. The image of pregnancy is to real life what a tampon ad is to a real period.
The real sucker punch is the pregnancy amnesia after that allows you to tell people how amazing it was and for you to repeat the process again. That's the killer.
We went for our Level II scan this week, our first since the one I had for bleeding at 7 weeks. I guess the good news is little Hieronymus no longer rocks the vestigial tail. Or looks like a demented seahorse. Or apparently has even a modicum of modesty. First view, Hieronymus was upside down with legs wide open. I am sure that there is a position in pole dancing that would perfectly illustrate what we saw. What we also saw is that, without any doubt, our little parasite is in possession and apparently enamoured of a set of ladybits. That's my little princess, right there, taking after Mama.
The truth of this is that I expected something very different from pregnancy. I grew up hearing about how my mother had a wonderful, complication free pregnancy. She skiied til she was 7 months and that was only because she couldn't do up her boots. She was playing tennis the week she had me. Yes, she had a tough delivery and I was late, but her pregnancy was fine.
I expected that and, in a way, I feel gypped that I am having the pregnancy I'm having. Honestly, though, I should have realized this was my own experience and not to judge based on other people's. I also know there are women who are far worse than me, for whom my issue would be just a little drop in the bucket.
The lost of control over my body is hard to accept for me. Early on, there was a subchorionic haemotoma that put my at risk for miscarriage. Then, my sacroiliac joint is out of whack, cutting down on my mobility: no twisting, limited movement, sit when possible. This Monday, it's placenta previa and all the modified rest that goes along with it. I'm basically left with watching movies, reading/internet, and swimming for at least the next 10 weeks. It's frustrating.
I know this all sounds sour grapes. I did choose this, I wanted a baby, but I wanted to enjoy the time gestating as well. All the problems make me feel detached from the experience. Having an anterior placenta doesn't help either; it means I feel her kicks more like vague wiggles.
I wanted this to be more upbeat, but I'm feeling very achy and disenfranchised right now.
25 March 2010
I hate my OB
Has anyone else had this trouble? I hate my OB. As in, hate them so much, I left my appointment today in tears.
I went in with bleeding early in my pregnancy-- around 6 weeks-- and was diagnosed with a subchorionic haematoma. This bumped me up slightly higher in the risk level, but not that much. I went in at 6 weeks, 7 weeks, 9 weeks, and now at 12 weeks. First two appointments, I had a great doctor. I've been trying to get an appointment with him again since, but no dice.
My first "official" appointment was horrible. I spent the whole time getting a lecture on how I'm morbidly obese and how I obviously have gestational diabetes and I don't take care of myself and don't care about the baby. Why did I get this lecture? Because I declined having several tests for gestational diabetes, including a 24 hour urine catch and an early 1 hour screening.
Here's the thing: at 9 weeks pregnant, I weighed around 190lbs. I'm around 5'4". Based on BMI's formula, that DOES make me obese. However, at this weight, pre-pregnancy, I was wearing between a 12 and a 14. The nurse even remarked to me that without the machine, she never would have known I was morbidly obese.
Um, hi? Maybe because I'm not?
The nurse took it upon herself to diagnose me as diabetic and put me on a restrictive, low carb diet, as well as berated me and harassed me about the different ways I could take the test. Didn't matter how many times I said no, I understood the risks, but I'd done my own research and was declining it. The doctor went through the same thing, though she at least acknowledged I was within my right to decline as long as I understood it was AMA.
The reason why I declined the test was simple. Until recently, it wasn't considered a routine test. You had it basically if ketones turned up in your pee test. I'm 28 and in relatively good shape. Based on that, even with weight as an elevated risk factor, I have a 4% chance of developing gestational diabetes. The test is meant to screen out the needle in a haystack. It also has a pretty high rate of false positives. And personally? Since I don't eat a lot of sugary things, the glucola would probably make me sick as hell. I can't even drink regular soda without feeling gross. I am comfortable with declining it.
I assumed that this would all be over and done with after last appointment, but apparently not. Going in today, the first thing out of the doctor's mouth was when could we schedule my 1 hour screening? Uh, we are not. I've declined it TWICE. Her whole attitude changed from there. She was terse and demeaning, telling me that I obviously didn't care about my health or my baby, that my baby would die from complications, that I was being stupid, and that I was tying their hands and they could not give me proper care if I refused taking this test SEVERAL times. She told me she "didn't feel like" looking for the baby's heartbeat on Doppler, so I had an ultrasound instead.
The only good thing about that appointment is that the baby looks good.
I didn't even get a chance to ask her the couple questions wanted to because she made it clear that she was done soon as I was not following her advice to a T.
Better still? My blood pressure was borderline at this appointment. It was high at the last one, which was, coincidentally, right after I had bloodwork done. Let's ignore that giant panic attack I'd had because I hate having labwork done, shall we? But according to this doctor, anxiety doesn't cause high blood pressure. Sure, that's why my blood pressure's always been low otherwise. I guess my GP is an idiot for mistaking my low blood pressure all this time.
But no, there's no way I could have crappy blood pressure from anything else, so I've been officially elevated to a high risk pregnancy and I now need to go in biweekly for blood pressure checks and ultrasounds. I asked if they could take my blood pressure after the appointment and was told they "don't do that". I left in tears.
I have a couple calls into other practices. I'm meeting with a highly recommended midwife on Monday and have a couple other places I'm looking into. There is no reason I should spend a whole day depressed and feeling like I should stop eating because of a doctor. I shouldn't leave feeling stupid, worthless, and in tears. That's not the kind of person I want to deliver my baby.
But hey, the baby is perfect and that's what matters, right?
I went in with bleeding early in my pregnancy-- around 6 weeks-- and was diagnosed with a subchorionic haematoma. This bumped me up slightly higher in the risk level, but not that much. I went in at 6 weeks, 7 weeks, 9 weeks, and now at 12 weeks. First two appointments, I had a great doctor. I've been trying to get an appointment with him again since, but no dice.
My first "official" appointment was horrible. I spent the whole time getting a lecture on how I'm morbidly obese and how I obviously have gestational diabetes and I don't take care of myself and don't care about the baby. Why did I get this lecture? Because I declined having several tests for gestational diabetes, including a 24 hour urine catch and an early 1 hour screening.
Here's the thing: at 9 weeks pregnant, I weighed around 190lbs. I'm around 5'4". Based on BMI's formula, that DOES make me obese. However, at this weight, pre-pregnancy, I was wearing between a 12 and a 14. The nurse even remarked to me that without the machine, she never would have known I was morbidly obese.
Um, hi? Maybe because I'm not?
The nurse took it upon herself to diagnose me as diabetic and put me on a restrictive, low carb diet, as well as berated me and harassed me about the different ways I could take the test. Didn't matter how many times I said no, I understood the risks, but I'd done my own research and was declining it. The doctor went through the same thing, though she at least acknowledged I was within my right to decline as long as I understood it was AMA.
The reason why I declined the test was simple. Until recently, it wasn't considered a routine test. You had it basically if ketones turned up in your pee test. I'm 28 and in relatively good shape. Based on that, even with weight as an elevated risk factor, I have a 4% chance of developing gestational diabetes. The test is meant to screen out the needle in a haystack. It also has a pretty high rate of false positives. And personally? Since I don't eat a lot of sugary things, the glucola would probably make me sick as hell. I can't even drink regular soda without feeling gross. I am comfortable with declining it.
I assumed that this would all be over and done with after last appointment, but apparently not. Going in today, the first thing out of the doctor's mouth was when could we schedule my 1 hour screening? Uh, we are not. I've declined it TWICE. Her whole attitude changed from there. She was terse and demeaning, telling me that I obviously didn't care about my health or my baby, that my baby would die from complications, that I was being stupid, and that I was tying their hands and they could not give me proper care if I refused taking this test SEVERAL times. She told me she "didn't feel like" looking for the baby's heartbeat on Doppler, so I had an ultrasound instead.
The only good thing about that appointment is that the baby looks good.
I didn't even get a chance to ask her the couple questions wanted to because she made it clear that she was done soon as I was not following her advice to a T.
Better still? My blood pressure was borderline at this appointment. It was high at the last one, which was, coincidentally, right after I had bloodwork done. Let's ignore that giant panic attack I'd had because I hate having labwork done, shall we? But according to this doctor, anxiety doesn't cause high blood pressure. Sure, that's why my blood pressure's always been low otherwise. I guess my GP is an idiot for mistaking my low blood pressure all this time.
But no, there's no way I could have crappy blood pressure from anything else, so I've been officially elevated to a high risk pregnancy and I now need to go in biweekly for blood pressure checks and ultrasounds. I asked if they could take my blood pressure after the appointment and was told they "don't do that". I left in tears.
I have a couple calls into other practices. I'm meeting with a highly recommended midwife on Monday and have a couple other places I'm looking into. There is no reason I should spend a whole day depressed and feeling like I should stop eating because of a doctor. I shouldn't leave feeling stupid, worthless, and in tears. That's not the kind of person I want to deliver my baby.
But hey, the baby is perfect and that's what matters, right?
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