Friday, June 16, 2006

The Friday Run-down...(literally)

I finally heard from the billing lady at the gyno office. Apparently, she thought I still had insurance, so she didn't think it was urgent to contact me regarding the cost of the procedures. On Tuesday next week, I will be having a colposcopy performed for the low, low price of $164 - $243. (I'm not sure why the price vaires so much...maybe if it's an extra-stanky chick, they charge more, or somethin'...) If they need to do a biopsy, the specimins they retrieve will cost $200 each. She also explained that even if the doctor only takes one specimin while he's doin' his thang, if the lab tech decides he needs to split that one specimin into 3 bits, I will then be charged $200 per specimin. FanTABulous!

She then told me that if I ask to see her when I'm checking out of my appointment, and I treat her real nice, she might just give me a little discount on the procedure. I think I might take her some brownies, just in case that buys me any special love...

She was real nice, actually. Everyone in that office has been. I decided to have a test for gonorrhea and syphilis while I was there last week, just because I've never been tested, some of the guys I slept with in the last two years have been questionable (particularly the pilot), I didn't know about the girls the boyfriend had slept with in the couple of years before we started seeing each other, and as they are the types of diseases that can hang out inside ya without you really knowing, so it just seemed the smart thing to do. (Of course, this was before I knew I was going to have to spend another minimum of $164 in that office within the next two weeks, and I haven't the first clue how much the labs are gonna be for all this shit when it's said and done, dammit.) When I told the boyfriend that I'd decided to order the tests, he said he was tested last year and was fine, actually. Oh. Good to know. I still didn't know if I was ok, though, but the nurse called me on Wednesday to tell me that my tests had come back negative, so YAY! Again, the point of this story was to tell you that (a) that nurse that called me was really nice, too, and (b) I don't have any gross STD's, which is a miracle. I've slept with a total of about 13 or 14 men in my life, and I've only used a condom once. Yep. I'm awesome. (Yes, I know the answer to that rhetorical statement is, "Um, not really." Shut up.)

Ok, so there's that. I'm too tired to think about all that shit today, though. At least, for now I am.

The boyfriend went to a bachelor party last night while all the girls were at the wedding shower for the girl that's getting married this weekend. I had no problem with whatever they decided to do with themselves for the evening, and knew they'd be out pretty late. I got home at about 10:40-ish, stayed up with the dog as late as I could, and went to bed at about 12:15, I think. At 11:00, the boyfriend's phone rang, letting me know that he had left his phone at home accidentally. I didn't notice it sitting in it's little charging spot in the living room until it's hellish ring-tone sounded, and to be honest, I didn't think much of it. He was out with people who knew my number if they needed me, so I went to bed not worrying about it.

Until about 12:40 a.m. when it rang again, waking me out of a sound early-sleep. I went to see who was calling at that time. And I got sick to my stomach when I saw that it was one of the guys that the boyfriend was supposed to be out with.

Now, I'm a worrier. It's something that mom passed on to me, and if I could get rid of the trait, I would. I work on it all the time, actually. But last night, several scenarios popped to mind immediately following the call to the boyfriend's phone from his friend that he should have been out with. First, I worried that there'd been an accident. Second, I worried that they were in jail. Third, I thought that perhaps they'd become separated, and he was trying to locate my boyfriend by calling his phone, not realizing he didn't have it with him. Fourth, I considered that his phone had dialed the boyfriend accidentally, as seems to be a plague among phones that belong to boys. (I receive calls from the boyfriend's ass regularly. I used to receive them from my old friend Michael now and then. I've never, ever received a call from a girl's ass...which goes to show something, I think. Namely that girls are better at setting their phones so that the buttons can't be pushed by random shifts in a purse or in a pocket or what have you. Boys are notoriously bad for that inability, and it's maddening to me. MAJOR pet peeve, honestly. Oh, and I refer to it as being called "by their ass" because the phone is usually placed in a back pocket, and so it's usually being leaned against by said body part when it hits the ol' redial button, causing the call to be made by - you guessed it - the ass. I'm not sure if this is a common term for that particular issue, so I just thought I'd cover my bases there.) I worried so much because my phone had been off while it was charging, and I thought that the friend had tried to call me first, and was unsuccessful, so I felt he had decided to try calling my boyfriend's phone, knowing it was there, and hoping that I would answer after seeing that it was him. My mind is a powerful, frightening thing when I let it run wild.

So I immediately sent a text message to the friend of the boyfriend that called, and asked him if everything was ok, as his call had awoken me from my sleep, and wasn't he with the boyfriend? I then went to the bathroom to empty the contents of my belly, which is usually what happens when I start to worry so suddenly about something. (This side-effect of sudden worry is particularly obnoxious during tornado warnings...just when I'm supposed to be protecting myself in a hallway away from windows and the like, I find myself stuck to the toilet releasing a mass stream of whatever the contents of my belly are out of my house of crap. It sucks.) When I was done there, I sat up for about 20 minutes waiting to hear back from the friend, but nothing happened. So I went back to bed, hoping that they weren't sitting in a jail cell, having not been able to reach anyone to let them know what was up. Or worse: that they weren't at a hospital, and the friend had given up trying to alert me to the fact that my boyfriend was in a deep coma caused by whatever had happened.

I'm not kidding. This is what was going through my head as I tried to return to sleep.

The boyfriend got home at about 1:40, though. I yelled. He yelled, as well as he could in his drunken stupor. He finally passed out, and I couldn't sleep because, of course, he passed out on mostly my side of the bed, and so I went out to the living room to read and lie comfortably on the couch while I tried to cool down a bit.

I didn't go back to bed until 3:30. So I. Am. Tired.

Before he passed out, though, I did apologize for yelling at him, and I tried to explain why I was so worried. I kept talking, and finally realized that he had passed out somewhere in the middle of it all, but I thought that we were not too mad at each other any more. This morning, I said goodbye and told him to have a good day, and he pulled me to him for a hug and kissed me twice, so I think he was sorry, too. (He had apologized for leaving his phone at home, which was all he could do, as he had no control over the fact that his friend's ass had called his phone while they were out.)

But I'm still tired. I want to go back to sleep, and my stomach is still feeling the effects of the worry, the subsequent fight, and probably the exhaustion I've lead my body to with my awesome reactive nature.

And that, my friends, is one rambly post. Gotta go...


mgh said...

I've always found that doctor's offices are happy to work with you when you don't have insurance. I didn't have insurance for a few months last year and when my dermatologist found out that I was paying for insanely expensive office visits out of my pocket, he instructed me to start seeing him at the free health clinic instead of his office. He started giving me samples of all my meds and was just generally fabulous about it.

Good luck with your procedure.

Alisha said...

Lloyd was calling boyfriend to tell him to come to the bar to get a shot. He thought it was a text message from me and didn't answer it because he had just dropped boyfriend off at home and was on his way to me. He feels REALLY bad now!

Ms. Pants said...

Oi-- I've had that whole hooha thing done. Hit me up if you want the 411. (You'll be fine, I promise.)