Yet another medical saga, and insurance

Sometimes I think I might be a hypochondriac, because it seems like I have more weird and somewhat serious medical issues crop up than other people I know. I use my self-awareness of this to tell myself that it's all real, and that I'm not a hypochondriac, rather I'm just not the healthiest girl. Which would stand to reason if you knew about my lifestyle.

It all started in college, with "the gremlin." Somewhat suddenly, I was throwing up just about everything I ate. Wednesday night pizza and beer at Woodstock's in Isla Vista was particularly egregious, and there was a tree I would always duck behind on the walk home to retch. It became so commonplace, I didn't even blink. Well, the condition of my tummy got so bad that a roommate demanded I go to the emergency room. At the time, I was in so much pain I couldn't stand up all the way. She was probably right about the need to seek treatment, but I tend to avoid doctors like the plague (see, I told you I'm not a hypochondriac). After a little morphine, I felt all better. After six months of no alcohol or greasy food, the gremlin had been healed considerably. It has never totally gone away, though. Mostly I just ignore it now, except fo those times it hurts so badly I just moan and try to go to sleep.

Last year, in May, my right calf went numb. Then my thigh. Then, as the feeling would come back at the lower end of this numbness, the feeling would move higher. A numb half-belly feels really weird. Rex's dad is an MD, so a phone call to him revealed that this could be nothing normal or ok. Again, I protested a trip to the ER in a way that you might have thought Rex was trying to remove my fingernails with rusty pliers. Until the right half of my tongue went numb. It's hard to be convincing if you sound like a drunk retard. To the ER we went. I got scared enough by the time we were checking in with the triage nurse and my speech center went wonky. In the exam room, I lost the ability to speak certain sounds, "thank you" would come out only as "yank you," no matter how hard I tried. It looked like a stroke, and a trip to the ER was probably well-advised.

It wasn't a stroke, just an "aura migraine," unusual only for the severity of the aura symptoms. Auras usually present as mild visual disturbances, and they'd never seen anything quite like mine. So they sent me for a CT scan and an MRI, plus trips to the neurologist. Two grand later, I was pronounced just fine. That two grand, however, will haunt me for around five years, because that's how long it will take me to pay it off at $30 a month, which is still more than I can afford.

Don't you have insurance?, I hear you asking. Well, yes'm I do. With a $3000 deductible. That renews each year. I have zero coverage until I meet the deductible, be it for perscription drugs, office visits, or something that looks like a stroke. So the two grand falls entirely on me to pay. This is the kind of insurance someone like me can afford (actually, my dad pays for it. I would be uninsured if he didn't. And it ain't cheap).

Two things just converged that caused me to write this rather long diatribe. One, as you might have guessed from the title, is that something else has gone awry with little Parepare. The other is the revelation from a New York Times article that women are paying more for health insurance than men. And the reasons are not entirely clear. This more expensive coverage does not include maternity care, which would at least account for the disparity. Anthem, my insurer, is listed as being one of the major offenders. Women with Anthem in Columbus OH (the example cited) pay 49% more than men in the same age group, and the disparities are worse for young women. Being a young woman who is barely insured, and at that can't afford health care, this makes me so mad really I'm just disappointed. Because really, are we surprised? No. We know that the system is totally f***ed. But this should be illegal. We can't discriminate based on race, but sex? Sure, go right ahead. That's progress.

So, in the shadow of this knowledge, I just made an appointment for a breast core biopsy, because I have a fibroadenoma in my right breast. A fibroadenoma is a lump very common in young women (particularly my age bracket) that is almost always benign. So it's really just a lump that's more annoying than anything. But because of the severity of cancer, since there is a remote chance that the lump is cancerous, fibroadenomas are nearly always biopsied or removed. Mine shall be biopsied in a procedure that will have me out of commission for 24 hours, and guess what? I get to pay for it all with the riches I have from being a law student for 2 1/2 years. My insurance does not cover this sort of treatment (though the guy at Anthem enthusiastically told me that they cover 100% once I reach the deductible!). I chose the less expensive biopsy option, which will mean I'll still have the lump. But I'll know it's a nothing lump. And I'll get to remember that fact every month when I get the bill, asking for another $30. I just hope they don't raise my monthly payments with addition of the new charges. That would really hurt.

City of Angels

In the first half of the 20th Century, William Mulholland felt the way about L.A. that I do today:

"I'd rather give birth to a porcupine backwards than be the mayor of Los Angeles."

And he's a major reason the city even exists.

Amendment 48

I've surprised myself in realizing that I haven't mentioned it yet, but Colorado is trying to go back to the awesomeness level of the anti-gay Amendment we had with Amendment 48, which would define a person at conception. I was prompted to post this because I read this excellent blog about it, written by a non-Coloradoan who is rightfully opposed. I would get shakingly mad to explain all that is wrong with Amendment 48, but I encourage you to think about the rights you have by virtue of being a person. Then think about an embryo having all the same rights. Read the link. And then think about how awesome the girl is who created it. By the way, she's about to graduate from law school, kind of like yours truly. Unlike myself, she "attends" an un-accredited online Christian law school. Good luck with the bar exam, honey.

Fashion

Sometimes I worry that I have no fashion sense, in a way that might be embarrassing. I worry that I can barely dress myself, and that perhaps people are laughing at me (or cringing).

I just saw a woman wearing a black t-shirt, hunter green tapered jeans, and tennis shoes. T-shirt, no problem. Hunter green tapered jeans? In all seriousness?

I feel much better about my own ability to get dressed in the morning. Even if my clothes are too small, at least I don't own hunter green jeans. Or tapered jeans. Or, worst of all, the two combined.

Pro-Abortionists

I just gotta show solidarity with that movement that Obama is part of--the pro-abortion movement. John McCain sure does know what he's talking about! In fact, I'm going to go have an abortion even though I'm not pregnant, because I think we should all be having abortions, all the time. Go abortions!

Okay, but seriously? I'm so sick of hearing right wing nonsense. I'm just holding my breath, beaming at the polls that show a good chance of, I'm going to say it, the change we need.

Wolf Law, 207

Room 207 in the Wolf Law Building is perpetually FREEZING. And there's a vent over my head that blows frigid air on me the whole time I sit here. Green building? I think not. It's not warm outside, folks, we don't need the A/C on full blast. Now I shall stop typing because I have 10 finger popsicles.

HeeHee

Since I haven't anything clever of my own to say...

superpoop.com


superpoop.com

Also, I happen to be a Satinist. Especially if I buy that wedding dress I want...

A gift from the DNC

The Democratic National Committee sent me presents! Well, they actually sent me junk mail asking for money and time, but more importantly, the envelope had PRESENTS! The presents are stickers, and you might not think that's too exciting, until I tell you that one of them says "Ask me how many houses I own." And it's in the style of a McCain/Palin sticker. I LOVE MY PRESENT.

Mavericks

We all know how much Sarah and John like to call themselves mavericks. It's one of their favorite words/phrases. Well, the family who is descended from the original Maverick, isn't so pleased. The NYT has a piece about the origin of the term, and the current family's feelings towards our self-proclaimed mavericks running for high political office.
The term originated when Samuel Augustus Maverick of Texas refused to brand his cattle. Unbranded cattle, then, became known as "Mavericks." The term literally means "unbranded," from this origin. The Maverick family is still alive and well, living in San Antonio. But they are not Republicans. In fact, they are progressive liberals, and resent that John McCain and Sarah Palin have adopted the term. One member of the family fumes, "they are branded. They're Republicans." Just another Republican move pissing people off.
So there's your etymology lesson for today.

The Bar

The good news today is: two of my friends passed the Colorado Bar. And they are not two of the people who would be a shoe-in. One didn't take the main bar review course (and I'm not going to), and one was, well, sort of an underacheiver (like me!). Today is a reassuring day. If they can pass, I can pass too.

UPDATE: It turns out, my third friend did not pass the bar. And he is not an underachiever, and he did take the bar review course. This is not encouraging. Two of three is like University of Denver odds, and I go to CU. Which is supposed to have a very high bar passage rate. C'mon class of 2008, you're making me n-e-r-v-o-u-s.

Because it bothers me so much when people call it "expresso"

toothpastefordinner.com

Wedding update?

My current problem is the caterer, and the cake. Which, unfortunately, are two things I CANNOT do myself. Or I would commit suicide. Perhaps hire some girl scouts to get a baking badge in exchange for a wedding cake? Of the few caterers actually in Crested Butte, all of the few are rumored to suck in some way or another. Which is super.
On the upside, I have the invitations nailed (I'm doing them myself, and it STILL costs about $3.00 or so per invitation). Plus about 1/2 hour for each of the fucking things. Oh, but I love it. And oh, how I love spray adhesive. Lovely fumes.

David's Bridal

I'm in the process of trying to find a wedding dress, and I'd convinced myself I could do it on the cheap (you only wear the thing once, right?). Unfortunately, cheap meant I couldn't do an "eco" dress, but I relented on that point. Being budget-minded, I sucked it up and went to David's Bridal (too bad, reader, I can't type the apostrophe as a little heart), that strip-mall big-box bride factory. The nice lady at the "reception" desk assigned me to Cathy. Take a look, she said, and Cathy will be right with you. Shortly, a blonde Eastern European woman with imperfect English approached, so I told her I was Paris. "Do you want to schedule your pampering session now," she asks with a thick accent. This was not Cathy. This woman was going to make me submit to a "makeover" in which I leave looking like a circus clown. I declined, and she left.
Rex and I continued looking at dresses, finding most to be much the same, and nothing was particularly exciting, when Cathy finally approached. She grabbed one more dress and we were off to the fitting rooms.
Behind a fully-mirrored door was a fitting room like you'd expect at Wal-Mart, but smaller. At these places they always give you a "bra," which is more like a grandma's foundation garment from 1976. Cathy also furnished a slip (these dresses have, like, 10 layers of material. Do I really need a slip? How crappy are these things?), and told me to get moving. I put on the first dress, and walked out. Totally unremarkable, as you might expect. I tell Cathy that it's not really what I'm looking for, I'd really like x, y, and/or z features. "Brides, they always want something," she says. "Brides are so quirky." I'm a little put off by her snarkyness, after all, we are brides and it is our wedding dress. I go back in to try again. I tell her I really want a corset back. She says, you can have one put in, but it'll cost ya. Again, with that horrid snarky tone. Couldn't I just get a dress that already has one? No, I have to buy the ugly one she picked so she can sell me and move onto the next bride. While she saunters off to find another David's Bridal "creation," I quickly dressed and grabbed Rex. We ran, like we've never run before. David's Bridal is the Wal-Mart of bridal gowns, and since I don't even shop at Wal-Mart, can someone please tell me why I even went in there?
Worst shopping experience. Ever.

But it gets better. When we go outside, and a woman from a DARE tent approaches us, and says "doyouwanttobuyoneofthesebackpacksforunderprivelegedkids?" No, we say. "Butwe'retryingtogetridofalloftheseonthetablefor$20youcanbuyoneorallsix." No thanks, we say. "Mostpeoplebuyoneortwowouldyoulikeoneortwoorallofthemwetakecchecksorcreditcards." Now, it's time to just walk away. I do not want to buy a crappy clear plastic backpack with pencils in it for a kid in the ghetto. If I wanted to help a kid in the ghetto, I could think of a million better ways than that.
Get me the hell out of Westminster. The suburbs are so scary, I'm beside myself.

Jeopardy?

I just played water law jeopardy. And had cookies. School is better when you regress to second grade.

It makes the system go.
What is return flow?

Now you may have a cookie. There are enough for two per person. Don't be greedy.

WOO-frickin'-WHOO!

Not to get to excited, but I just saw that Obama has taken a real lead in the polls. Which is SO exciting. I saw this, of course, on the NY Times, which calls it a "significant" lead. That sounds good to me. Now I gotta go celebrate (maybe some champagne will kill this horrid cold?).