It is entirely possible that I am the world's most boring person. I was able to bullshit my way through two entries this week by doing the truths and lies, but now I am out of ideas.
One of my greatest fears when I started this blog was that I wouldn't have anything to blog about. I am getting very close to that place this week:
I have eaten delicious curry chicken salad, courtesy of A_.
I have eaten delicious ridiculously priced steak, courtesy of boss man.
I have gone to work.
I have brushed my teeth.
I have washed my face, but I have a pimple in the middle of my damn cheek which pisses me off.
I have coached some speeches with an old friend.
I have read other blogs (and made some stupid comments - thank goodness Nancy is as cool as she is, cause I am an idiot.)
I, uh...seriously can't think of anything else. I had frosted mini-wheats for breakfast.
However, NEXT week should be more exciting.
A_ has his surgery a week from today. We need to call and see what exactly this is going to cost us. We already paid the urologist's fee of like over two grand, but we still need to pay the facility fee (which, by the way, is bullshit. It's going to be another two grand to use the operating place for a couple hours at most. The operating place that the fucking urologist OWNS part of.) We also have to find out how much the anesthesiologist is going to cost. On top of that, we got a letter saying that we need to send in $675 ahead of time for the sperm freezing. Assuming we get some. Mthrfkrs better give us the money back if there isn't any.
When Mel asked everyone to write about how we chose our paths after IF a week or so ago, I emailed her our story and I think I mentioned that the urologist didn't really give any options. This was the diagnosis, this was the way we could still have kids, think the surgery will most likely be successful, here's the price for the surgery (left off more than half the actual cost on the brochure, mind you), I'm pretty sure your insurance won't cover it, so I need payment up front, here's my scheduler's card, call and make the appointment. Then he said he recommended the fertility clinic that the urology offices shared a building with. He really prefers that I be doing the IVF treatment at the same time. Never mind that it's taking all we have to do this first step with him. And he was off to his next appointment.
I hate this urologist.
I mean really, the more I think about it, the more I hate him. I have been really lucky with doctors in my life - my doctor growing up was very patient and nice. My doctor now spends much of her time teaching, but really wants to keep connected so she has some patients and when you see her, she listens and takes time and generally acts like she cares.
The doctor that I used to work for is incredible. He was always way behind and his patients knew that an appointment might mean waiting an hour (sometimes two) first, but once you got in there, he would spend an entire hour going over everything if you needed it. Probably 90% of our patients were gay men, about 1/3 of whom were HIV positive. Dr. R understood that sometimes they needed more than a doctor who would just tell them their latest viral load. They needed somebody to talk to and cry with. They needed somebody who cared that they couldn't afford their meds and was going to do something about it. They needed advice about how to handle their positive status and their lives, because being HIV+ was part of who they were every day. Dr. R. fucking *cares* about people.
I really don't feel like A_'s surgeon cares about us as people. Granted, this is a short relationship. It's one surgery and done. He won't be getting us pregnant, he's just be a step along the way. But still, can I get some fucking compassion? Just a brief acknowledgment that this sucks?
I mean, even the insurance coverage person I talked to, when I called in the hopes that maybe those wacky kids would cover his surgery anyways, at least seemed to feel really terrible that it wouldn't be covered. The woman looked it up and seemed really, genuinely sorry when she told me it wasn't covered and I began to cry.
So basically what I have been trying to say is that I get to give the first doctor "name" on my blog. I'm sure it's been used before, but...Welcome, Dr. Dick, to Who Shot my Stork.