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14 years ago
Friday, May 22, 2009
Thursday, May 14, 2009
The HazMat Team's Coming to Take Me Away
Hello Mamahood, Good Bye "Me" Time
David has been out of town this week, leaving me with one sick, cranky Critter to deal with alone. Normally, when faced with an absent husband, I turn to my mom for support and dinner. But she's out of town, too. Which means I haven't showered since Monday. Today is Friday. It also means that I haven't eaten anything but french fries and Pop Tarts in as many days.
Madre called me yesterday from her educators conference to tell me that the human brain starts to have reduced function when one is hungry, tired, and/or lonely. Which would explain why, this morning, when I got dressed, it took me 5 minutes to realize that the problem with my thong underwear was that I'd put it on backwards.
David has been out of town this week, leaving me with one sick, cranky Critter to deal with alone. Normally, when faced with an absent husband, I turn to my mom for support and dinner. But she's out of town, too. Which means I haven't showered since Monday. Today is Friday. It also means that I haven't eaten anything but french fries and Pop Tarts in as many days. Madre called me yesterday from her educators conference to tell me that the human brain starts to have reduced function when one is hungry, tired, and/or lonely. Which would explain why, this morning, when I got dressed, it took me 5 minutes to realize that the problem with my thong underwear was that I'd put it on backwards.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Well, I Guess We're Not Going To Have To Send
This One to College
I assumed after the coin eating incident Husband had learned his lesson about leaving Critter unattended in our bed. David assumed that if he swaddled Critter tight enough, Critter wouldn't be mobile. A loud THUNK! followed by an even louder wail taught us both what happens when one assumes.
We raced into our bedroom to discover Critter on the floor screaming his dented head off. I scooped my Precious off the hardwood and turned on Husband in fury.
"What if he's cracked his skull?!? What if his brain is bleeding?!? What if he has brain damage and doesn't get accepted into the NASA program and never makes millions of dollars and can't buy me a beach house?!?"
David looked at me with an expression of equal guilt and fear. Suddenly his expression brightened. "Well, at least he's learned a lesson in gravity!" he chirped.
Men.
I assumed after the coin eating incident Husband had learned his lesson about leaving Critter unattended in our bed. David assumed that if he swaddled Critter tight enough, Critter wouldn't be mobile. A loud THUNK! followed by an even louder wail taught us both what happens when one assumes.
We raced into our bedroom to discover Critter on the floor screaming his dented head off. I scooped my Precious off the hardwood and turned on Husband in fury.
"What if he's cracked his skull?!? What if his brain is bleeding?!? What if he has brain damage and doesn't get accepted into the NASA program and never makes millions of dollars and can't buy me a beach house?!?"
David looked at me with an expression of equal guilt and fear. Suddenly his expression brightened. "Well, at least he's learned a lesson in gravity!" he chirped.
Men.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
The Exorcism of A Teething Critter
I swear, if there isn't a tooth visible by tonight I'm calling an exorcism performing priest. There are only 2 possible causes of bad behavior like this, and they are teeth and demons.
Or maybe Critter is just a demon with teeth...
Or maybe Critter is just a demon with teeth...
Thursday, April 30, 2009
Just Give Me My Puke Pills!: Part Deux
After returning home and washing out the barf bucket, I got out my trusty (read: useless) insurance card and dialed their phone number.
Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.
I should have taken the fact that the phone rang 7 times with no answer as a sign of what was to come.
Halfway through the 8th ring the line connected. "You've reached Screw You Blue Insurance. This is Lucifer." I should've taken the fact that Ole Luc didn't ask how he could help me as sign number 2.
"Yes, this is Mrs. Smith. I'm insured with y'all, and I'm having a problem getting a prescription filled." The desperation in my voice was palpable
This elicited an "Uh huh" from the Super Helpful Insurance Minion.
"So..." I hedged, wanting him to tell me what my next step should be.
"So?" He clearly didn't understand why I had a problem.
My mood swung and my inner witch came zooming out on her broomstick. "So!" I barked at him, all traces of pleading gone from my voice. I was a woman on A Mission. "So! I want to know what the problem is! The pharmacy said I need prior authorization from you, and I want you to give it to me!" I thought that the unspoken threat in my voice was perfectly clear. Lucifer, however, did not.
"Yeah," he drawled casually. I could hear the clicking of his solitare game in the background. "What's the medication?"
"Zofran." Good, we must be getting somewhere.
"Huh. Hold on." Before I could answer, I was listening to Muzak. Which I hate.
7 minutes and 51 seconds later, Lucifer was back. "Our policy is not to fill a prescription of more than 5 pills of Zofran without authorization from the prescribing doctor."
It was my turn to use his choice word. "Huh?"
"Ma'am, we don't fill prescriptions of that particular drug for more than 5 pills without authorization from the prescribing doctor" Click, click, click went the solitare game.
"Yes, I heard you, I don't understand what that means, though" I explained to the ghoul.
He let out a huge sigh. "Ma'am. Without your doctor's authorization, we will not pay for a prescription of more than 5 pills."
Clearly, he and I were great communicators. "What do I need to do then? Should I have my doctor call your office? Should I have her call the pharmacy?" I thought that by giving him more than one option I had a better chance at an agreeable outcome.
He sighed again and the clicking resumed. "Ma'am, you need your doctor to fax us a document stating that he or she has written you a prescription for Zofran and that he or she wants you to receive more than 5 pills." It was plain he thought my elevator wasn't running to the top floors. What my elevator wanted to do was floor him.
"Um, doesn't the fact that my doctor wrote the prescription for more than 5 pills show you that she wants me to have more than 5 pills?" I could not have sounded more irritated.
Neither could Lucifer. "Ma'am. Our policy is not to fill a prescription of more than 5 pills of Zofran without authorization from the prescribing doctor."
"Oh, good grief! I heard you the first THREE TIMES YOU SAID THAT!!" I was near the end of my rope and I wanted to tie what was left of it around this guy's neck. "Is there a particular form I need to have her send you or will her scribble on a piece of paper work?"
"Ummmmmm. Hold on." It took me about 5 minutes to realize that this time there was no Muzak. It took me another minute to realize that this was because he had hung up on me.
I burst into tears and threw the phone to the floor, scaring Critter, who also burst into tears. As I sat on the sofa rocking both of us I vowed to go out and buy an Insurance Demon voodoo doll and stab it with as many pins as I could get my swollen hands on.
Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring.
I should have taken the fact that the phone rang 7 times with no answer as a sign of what was to come.
Halfway through the 8th ring the line connected. "You've reached Screw You Blue Insurance. This is Lucifer." I should've taken the fact that Ole Luc didn't ask how he could help me as sign number 2.
"Yes, this is Mrs. Smith. I'm insured with y'all, and I'm having a problem getting a prescription filled." The desperation in my voice was palpable
This elicited an "Uh huh" from the Super Helpful Insurance Minion.
"So..." I hedged, wanting him to tell me what my next step should be.
"So?" He clearly didn't understand why I had a problem.
My mood swung and my inner witch came zooming out on her broomstick. "So!" I barked at him, all traces of pleading gone from my voice. I was a woman on A Mission. "So! I want to know what the problem is! The pharmacy said I need prior authorization from you, and I want you to give it to me!" I thought that the unspoken threat in my voice was perfectly clear. Lucifer, however, did not.
"Yeah," he drawled casually. I could hear the clicking of his solitare game in the background. "What's the medication?"
"Zofran." Good, we must be getting somewhere.
"Huh. Hold on." Before I could answer, I was listening to Muzak. Which I hate.
7 minutes and 51 seconds later, Lucifer was back. "Our policy is not to fill a prescription of more than 5 pills of Zofran without authorization from the prescribing doctor."
It was my turn to use his choice word. "Huh?"
"Ma'am, we don't fill prescriptions of that particular drug for more than 5 pills without authorization from the prescribing doctor" Click, click, click went the solitare game.
"Yes, I heard you, I don't understand what that means, though" I explained to the ghoul.
He let out a huge sigh. "Ma'am. Without your doctor's authorization, we will not pay for a prescription of more than 5 pills."
Clearly, he and I were great communicators. "What do I need to do then? Should I have my doctor call your office? Should I have her call the pharmacy?" I thought that by giving him more than one option I had a better chance at an agreeable outcome.
He sighed again and the clicking resumed. "Ma'am, you need your doctor to fax us a document stating that he or she has written you a prescription for Zofran and that he or she wants you to receive more than 5 pills." It was plain he thought my elevator wasn't running to the top floors. What my elevator wanted to do was floor him.
"Um, doesn't the fact that my doctor wrote the prescription for more than 5 pills show you that she wants me to have more than 5 pills?" I could not have sounded more irritated.
Neither could Lucifer. "Ma'am. Our policy is not to fill a prescription of more than 5 pills of Zofran without authorization from the prescribing doctor."
"Oh, good grief! I heard you the first THREE TIMES YOU SAID THAT!!" I was near the end of my rope and I wanted to tie what was left of it around this guy's neck. "Is there a particular form I need to have her send you or will her scribble on a piece of paper work?"
"Ummmmmm. Hold on." It took me about 5 minutes to realize that this time there was no Muzak. It took me another minute to realize that this was because he had hung up on me.
I burst into tears and threw the phone to the floor, scaring Critter, who also burst into tears. As I sat on the sofa rocking both of us I vowed to go out and buy an Insurance Demon voodoo doll and stab it with as many pins as I could get my swollen hands on.
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
It's Not Like I'm Trying to Buy Medicinal
Marijuana. Just Give Me the Dang Pills!
After spending the night curled in a ball on the bathroom floor while sniffing lemon slices, I dragged my barfy bum off the floor this morning and headed to my nearest CVS to refill my Zofran prescription. Zofran, for those lucky enough not to know what it is, is a highly potent anti-nausea pill.
I waddled up to the pharmacy and slid my prescription across the counter. Noticing my green gills, the chirpy pharmacist guy promised to have the meds ready in less than 10 minutes. I crawled over to the set of plastic chairs and dropped into one. A couple of minutes later a timid little voice called to me.
"Ma'am?" The pharmacist guy was looking at me with sympathy.
His sugary sweet demeanor immediately set off my alarm bells. "Yes?" I responded warily.
"Um, your insurance requires prior authorization for this prescription." He let this announcement hang in the air for a second. "And without insurance, it will cost $427.00"
"What?!" My shriek was no doubt heard all the way up in the film development corner.
The pharmacy guy began to look alarmed and took a step back. "I can't fill this prescription the way it's written without authorization from your insurance company. The only way I can give you the 30 pills is if you pay full price for them. Otherwise, your insurance will only pay for 5." The words came tumbling out of him so fast it was hard for me to decipher each one individually. The poor guy was obviously new to the profession and hadn't had much experience with dealing with people who were livid with their insurance company.
Well, who better than a barfy pregnant woman to break him in?
"That's horse hockey!!" I snapped at him. I lunged out of my chair and snatched my prescription back off the counter. "It's not like I'm trying to get Percocet or Pot or something! It's barf pills!! What the heck is their problem?" I demanded of him.
"I don't know" he stammered nervously. His eyes darted from side to side, obviously looking for someone to rescue him.
"You know, you really should have that answer!" I sneered at him and stomped away.
Once in the car I wrenched my cell phone out of my purse to call the insurance company. As I did, a wave of nausea hit me and I was wiped clean of my anger. All I wanted now was a bucket and my mommy.
After spending the night curled in a ball on the bathroom floor while sniffing lemon slices, I dragged my barfy bum off the floor this morning and headed to my nearest CVS to refill my Zofran prescription. Zofran, for those lucky enough not to know what it is, is a highly potent anti-nausea pill.
I waddled up to the pharmacy and slid my prescription across the counter. Noticing my green gills, the chirpy pharmacist guy promised to have the meds ready in less than 10 minutes. I crawled over to the set of plastic chairs and dropped into one. A couple of minutes later a timid little voice called to me.
"Ma'am?" The pharmacist guy was looking at me with sympathy.
His sugary sweet demeanor immediately set off my alarm bells. "Yes?" I responded warily.
"Um, your insurance requires prior authorization for this prescription." He let this announcement hang in the air for a second. "And without insurance, it will cost $427.00"
"What?!" My shriek was no doubt heard all the way up in the film development corner.
The pharmacy guy began to look alarmed and took a step back. "I can't fill this prescription the way it's written without authorization from your insurance company. The only way I can give you the 30 pills is if you pay full price for them. Otherwise, your insurance will only pay for 5." The words came tumbling out of him so fast it was hard for me to decipher each one individually. The poor guy was obviously new to the profession and hadn't had much experience with dealing with people who were livid with their insurance company.
Well, who better than a barfy pregnant woman to break him in?
"That's horse hockey!!" I snapped at him. I lunged out of my chair and snatched my prescription back off the counter. "It's not like I'm trying to get Percocet or Pot or something! It's barf pills!! What the heck is their problem?" I demanded of him.
"I don't know" he stammered nervously. His eyes darted from side to side, obviously looking for someone to rescue him.
"You know, you really should have that answer!" I sneered at him and stomped away.
Once in the car I wrenched my cell phone out of my purse to call the insurance company. As I did, a wave of nausea hit me and I was wiped clean of my anger. All I wanted now was a bucket and my mommy.
Monday, April 20, 2009
Credit Where Credit is Due
A few minutes ago I got an email from my mom, who just discovered that we have a blog, and wants y'all to know that while she "Love(s) the bumpass site, there was NO mention that Madre helped with the cookies, krispies, made the ham and potatoes! I want credit!"
Notice she does not want credit for helping with the eggs. But, we all must take bad with the good, so I'm letting you know that she, in fact, did help with the eggs, and even painted the Van Gogh inspired "Starry Night" egg.
When Husband gets home, I'll mention it to him, too.
Notice she does not want credit for helping with the eggs. But, we all must take bad with the good, so I'm letting you know that she, in fact, did help with the eggs, and even painted the Van Gogh inspired "Starry Night" egg.
When Husband gets home, I'll mention it to him, too.
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