There should not be drama for a FET with proven embryos involving a seasoned veteran like me.

Nevertheless.

I called Blue Cross about the Bad Clinic here in Knoxville.  BC says they should not be making me pay up front, and they definitely can not be making me pay full price.  But, when I sent my own claim in to BC, they for some reason processed it as reimbursable to the clinic, and not to me.  So it is BC’s fault that the clinic got reimbursed when I should have gotten the check.

BC has something called “Provider Relations” that steps in when people like me tattle on their doctors, so I’m happy about that.  BC has been calling them since last Thursday and they are dodging the calls.

Meanwhile, my last exam with that clinic was fraught with uncertainties, because the ultrasound techs, or nurses, or whatever they are (they don’t seem to do nametags) kinda thought my ovarian cysts were follicles.  I think the ultrasound looks like bad tv reception so I don’t blame them for not being able to figure out what they’re seeing.  Except for, uh, the whole being a nurse or some kind of medical professional thing.  It was the doctor who thought my cysts were follicles.  Maybe they are indistinguishable and the art of ultrasound interpretation is overstated.  Maybe it’s some kind of gynecological Rorschach – you see what you want to see.

My clinic in Chicago wants me to go in again, to get confirmation of my lining, and my E2 levels, because the Bad Clinic gave them such inconsistent numbers (once they said my E2 was 35.2, not good; then the fax said 362, very good).  Oy.

Ironically, we are flying to Chicago today, and will be driving near my nice, comfortable home clinic, where they are on a first name basis with my cysts, on our way to my husband’s mother’s house.  But they will be closed.  So I am probably going to have to drive all over hell’s half acre (aka Illinois) tomorrow to go to yet another clinic to get ultrasound and bloodwork again.  Hi, I’ve never met you, I have no pants on.  The good news is that I don’t have to go back to the Bad Clinic, and the other good news is that my IVF coordinator is doing all the calling for me. Because when you say the words “outside monitoring” to a clinic receptionist, it’s like you farted.

The bad news is that the hormones and general cycling stress have got a hold of me, and I’ve been getting weepy and have become a bit of a drama queen about the whole thing.  It’s just traveling, traveling with a baby, cycling, calling clinics to see if they will monitor me and being treated like a leper, maybe going to be pregnant soon, maybe going to have a failed cycle soon, maybe going to sample the rest of the chamber of horrors (ectopic, m/c, yadda yadda).  We just got a violent throwing-up stomach bug over the weekend and it’s kind of traumatizing.  One minute I’m enjoying a glass of wine before bed, and a few hours later I feel as horrible as I can ever remember feeling.

Life can change so fast.

Obviously the stomach thing passed quickly, in every possible way, and I think Daniel had it first so I’m not scared of him getting it.  And it’s nice that I’m not worried about me getting it, and also nice that the big pancake breakfast I had at Cracker Barrel on Friday has been, uh, negated.

After writing all this I see that it’s not a big deal and I can dial down the drama if I just breathe.

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