WARNING: Incoming brain cancer rant.
You know what I’m pissed off about right this second? I should be planning something fun to do with Dan before chemotherapy starts, and instead I’m fighting insurance to get them to pay for the roughly $10,000 in temozolomide I’m going to need.
This is seriously getting so old. I’ve had so many different kinds of health insurance during this years-long ordeal with the brain tumor: employer sponsored, ACA marketplace, Medicaid, and Medicare. And not one of them has ever covered all they claimed to.
I’ve lost count of how many times an “oh yeah, that’s definitely covered” has turned into “oops, nope, we won’t be paying for that” right at the buzzer.
And let’s not forget that year-long fight with Lincoln Financial Group that required lawyers and multiple appeals to get the company to pay my disability insurance like they promised they would. Being without that supplemental income for 12 months didn’t exactly do great things for my bullshit credit rating.
“Sorry, you can’t buy a new car to get to your cancer treatments because you got cancer, your health insurance carrier refused to pay for a lot of stuff, you have outstanding hospital bills, a laughably small income, and now we’re pretty sure you’re a high-risk for defaulting on a mortgage. Maybe if you were better with money and didn’t buy so many lattes.”
Guys, I totally should have done a better job managing all that money I’m not allowed to have. It’s true.
Anyway, I’d also like to get my house somewhat cleaned and organized before my day-to-day is just me throwing up and handing the vomit bag to Dan. But I’m right smack dab in the middle of Can’tlandia right now. The unsick will think I’m exaggerating and lazy. That I could fold the laundry if I wanted to bad enough. Fact is they just don’t know yet. They don’t know what it’s like to be physically and mentally incapacitated by Overwhelm™. What I characterize as executive dysfunction on dexamethasone.
That’s a whole other thing. Worrying about being put on dex again. Keeping my fingers crossed I don’t need it, because my legs will just buckle if I put on any more weight.
Okay, that’s all for now. Don’t let my pissy sarcasm distract from how grateful I am for the outpouring of support I’ve received since my announcement. Sometimes you gotta vent the Instant Pot. Know what I mean?
More info and/or ranting to come, I’m sure.