Black Day

Hello.

Lemme ‘splain somethings  to youse.  I don’t write for the grammar.  I don’t write for a paycheck.  I don’t write for fame.  I write under two assumptions: 1). that whatever I write will not ever be read and 2). if read, what I write will greatly go misunderstood.

So in this world of tweets and status updates, gets a womb-man feelin’ like the quiet worm in the Dr. Seuss book that has to contend with a gazillion squawking birds.

I write.  Probably for the same reason Anne Frank wrote; to keep herself sane in an ‘unsane’ world.  I write.  Probably for the same reason you may have stopped to read a random blog; because we are internalizing our environment.

Presently my level of anxiety is SO high, I feel like my sternum is about to split in two at any moment to release the anguished soul inside.  I am so unhappy.  I try to be happy.  I try to be grateful for ‘the little things’ but every day, being grateful for little things is getting harder and harder to do.

Yesterday I went to get my birth control filled at Walgreens, which is the NuvaRing, without health insurance the cost of this product is $93.00 but with my health insurance it’s $30.00.  Which is pretty cool for not being worried about getting pregnant in my committed co-habituating  relationship, I don’t have some stupid little pill to remember to take every single day and after reading an article on Alternet.org I decided to just not have periods anymore (ladies don’t need a placebo week to bleed, it’s purely a male construct), it’s easy to insert and remove, it’s worth $30.00 but not $93.00.  So I go to call that refill in, only to be told that this year I have reached my ‘insurance cap on co-pays’ and now need to pay $84.00 for my birth control out of pocket.

My boyfriend charged it on his credit card, which actually kinda sucks, because I only have three bras and the underwire is poking through the seams on ALL of them.  If my boyfriend was to spend $84.00 on me, I’d rather it be on new bras.  But alas, no.

But I’m freaking out on the drive to Walgreens, because on August 9^th I was diagnosed with IBS and need to take up to 4 20MG pills a day of Dicyclomine which prevents me from having an incredible amount of abdominal pain, an excessive amount of bowel movements (I still have shit 5 times today in the last 12 hours), disabling nausea and vomiting that is worse than having a stomach flu.  This means if I don’t take these pills, I can’t work.  My co-pay on these pills is $15.00.  But since I have reached my ‘cap’ they now are requiring me to pay $17.00.  Whew.  And here I was afraid that to maintain my quality of life and to prevent a life would cost me around an additional $140.00 a month.  To be able to live without my period, fear of getting pregnant, without puking and shitting abnormally.

Ah, the joys of womb-manhood.

Why my birth-control is more expensive then Dicycolmine is beyond me.  

Alright, well, there’s always Planned Parenthood, so today at work I logged on to their website to schedule an appointment with them only to receive an email and get a cryptic call from them within a few hours stating that I owe them $88.00 dollars and that until payment is received, they will deny me care.  Without telling me what I owe them that money for.

Back in 2008, I had gotten an IUD implant at Planned Parenthood that my uterus rejected within a few days, the cost and insertion of this device, if I recall correctly cost about $300.00.  Since my uterus rejected the IUD, I was promised by a doctor at the PP clinic that if I decided to let them reinsert one, it would be free of cost.  I did not because the man I was dating at the time became MIA soon enough and the entire procedure—despite being told it would be a ‘slight pinch’—was unbearably painful and I almost couldn’t walk for two days.  I wasn’t really in a rush to get that done.  The last time I tried to call Planned Parenthood out on this promise, they ‘couldn’t find the paperwork’ to provide the free IUD I was promised.

Too bad right?  Because I’m a forgetful person and don’t like taking The Pill every fucking day.  So was reduced to using condoms for contraception.  Then I wound up in my current relationship and sometimes, shit, including pregnancy, happens.

So in May of this year, I found out I was pregnant.  We can obviously barely afford our birth-control so how on Earth could we afford a child.  Well, I was spared from making a critical decision because on Mother’s Day weekend I had a miscarriage.  At work.  It was bloody, painful and scary.  And I’m so low-key nobody noticed and only two people knew.  My friend Amada convinced me to go to the ER because I could’ve unwittingly have had an endoscopic pregnancy and might be in need of a DNC to avoid any type of internal infection.  So I went to the ER.

My insurance did not cover that visit.

It was expensive.  I still haven’t paid it yet.

When I called into my health care provider to find out why, the female TSR told me, “We don’t cover abortions, ma’am.”