My Last Hurrah

So, remember when I found out I was sick? And then I found out I wasn't, really?

Well, I had one more test and guess what? It said that I was definitely sick, but maybe not.

Confused? Yeah, me too. And also? My doctor. She's confused, too. That's why I am going to the country's best liver specialist tomorrow. I've been busy arranging all of my lab tests in chronological order. And highlighting the dates of the tests. And using fancy paper clips to fasten said groups of lab tests. Then binding them all together with these wee tiny little clips that I found at the stationery store.

See, I needed something to distract myself. And it's not for the reason that you might think. See, I called the hospital the doctor is affiliated with in St. Louis to "expedite my services" tomorrow and found out that they were unable to reach an agreement with Blue Cross and so they no longer accept my insurance. The doctor does, but the hospital doesn't. And the hospital owns the doctor, they tell me, so it doesn't matter that the doctor sent me a letter that says, come on down, see me, we'll take Blue Cross! The hospital says no.

So what did I do? I cried, of course.

That'll show them.

Once I stopped sniveling I started making calls. First to Blue Cross, who were absolutely no help, and then to my secondary insurance. See, I'm really lucky. Both me and my husband have insurance so I get to double dip. And in this instance, my secondary insurance will pay what my useless primary won't. So I get to see the best liver doctor in the country. Who will most likely tell me to stop drinking.

So? Tonight I drink. A lot.

I hope you still like me when I'm sober.