Thursday, January 7, 2010

D&C - Check!

The D&C was…well…it’s over! Jesus, what a mess. I get there and am asked for a $500 deductible. At which point I laughed and said, “Well, I guess I won’t be having surgery today!” They had me talk to a financial counselor who asked if I could put down anything. I said I could give them $50. She was not happy. She then asked if I could pay off the remainder within two months. Lied to the woman’s face. Suuuuuuuure, $275 a month?! That’s pocket change! And in addition to the $500, I also have to pay 30% of the hospital and doctor bills. Thrilling. Yet another thing to go into collections over.

I finally got prepared for surgery and laid around in my gown, reading. They needed a urine sample for a pregnancy test. Now here’s the thing with my urine…it’s shy. It doesn’t like it when you demand its appearance. Especially when I haven’t been allowed to drink anything in nearly 12 hours. So finally I just said, “Can you please just take a blood sample? This is not happening.” So they did. Yet more people not happy with me.

My surgery was an hour and a half later than expected due to no operating rooms being available but I finally got wheeled in. And, of course, all the people working on me? Men who are as hot as fuck. They were listening to Queen and we got into this conversation about Vanilla Ice. Eventually they knocked me out.

I woke up in the post-surgery ward with an aching vagina and a burning throat ripped raw from the breathing tube. After awhile they moved me to the recovery room where I got apple juice and a bran muffin. The latter felt like knives going down. They called my cab and wheeled me out when he arrived. He, like the AM driver, was annoyed by my needing to pay with a credit card. I have no idea why. So, like the AM driver, he took me to a fucking ATM so I could get cash instead. What a pain in the ass.

What do cabs cost elsewhere? These were $2.45 a mile plus a $2.45 flat charge. I can’t imagine that’s the norm but I really have no idea. My cab ride? $60. Sixty fucking dollars. In addition to the $50 I had to pay the hospital. Argh.

So, anyway, finally home. With a sore vag, raw throat, and no new drugs. I see my gynecologist in two weeks to discuss the results. No sexin’ until then either. I need “under construction” panties.

In happier news I stole a bunch of rubber gloves from the hospital. Get your minds out of the gutter, people! They’re for capsaicin cream application and hair dying.


I need to come up with $600 for my already late rent so expect a sales post really soon! Clothes, shoes, jewelry, kawaii stuff, etc.! My stuff is rad and you should totally buy some of it!

Reasons Scales are Useless
I was weighed four times in one day by medical professionals. The results? 314, 342, 339 and 330. Um…helpful!

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