SuperDaddy
...or, My Life Bites
I guess it's only fair. However, it still came as a shock to me when Spanky decided this week, during his stay at MUSC, that he preferred Daddy over Mommy. When did this happen?! As best as I can tell, it went something like this...
Jan 11 - Spanky turned 13
Jan 11 + 3 seconds - Spanky decided Daddy was the parent of choice
Now this was a difficult thing for me. Let's face it: I've always been the favorite. (Before you start sending in nasty comments, SH would agree with this point, so it's not like I'm stating anything but fact there.)
Anyway, Spanky never really went to sleep after his surgery Monday night. He rested when they gave him pain medicine, but he never really slept. And when I tried to send SH home for a nap and a shower on day 2, Spanky really threw a fit. He allowed SH to leave, but under much protest. Then the nurse came in and suggested we change his gown. Bad idea. I tried talking sense to him. I tried consoling him. Nothing. Then he said something that almost made me laugh. Or cry. Or cuss.
"I need Daddy. He has EXPERIENCE with this sort of thing."
EXCUSE ME?!?!?
In my ever sweet, loving way, I asked my son who the heck he thought took care of Daddy when HE has surgery. Then came blow # 2. "He takes care of himself." OUCH.
It really took everything I had in me not to lecture him right then and there. He was incapicitated, so he would have had to have listened. I opted for a mere "Kid, you need to face reality" and moved on. Still, it stung.
Spanky has been at MUSC since Monday afternoon. Yes, for those counting, that's 4 days - for a normally 24-hour operation. I have had plenty of time to wallow in self-pity this week concerning the things my child has said to me. I am quite sure he never would have done that if he'd had surgery before he was a teenager.
Meanwhile, he probably gets to come home tomorrow, providing his colon wakes up. All other signs of "issues" have left the Spankster, so we're well on the way to "normal" (whatever that is!)
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
Like Father, Like Son
Let's cut to the chase: right now it is 1:30 a.m., and if you know anything about me, you're wondering what on earth I'm doing up at such an ungodly hour. Well, I'll tell you. We've been at MUSC all day with Spanky - having his appendix removed.
Honestly.
It all started about 2 hours after he returned from a weekend youth retreat at church. Apparently Scott can take him away for a week at a time, three years in a row, but give him to Mike and Ernest for 48 hours and he comes back in need of having parts removed.
He came home and was starving. So we fed the boy. We're good parents like that. A couple of hours later, he's laying on the sofa, moaning. He is nothing if not a Drama King. SuperHubby banished him to the upstairs because, frankly, the moaning gets old pretty quickly. An hour later, he barfs all over the bathroom (walls, tub, floor, you name it. It was ugly. And no, I did NOT clean it up. That's SH's job. My job is snot.)
Then Spanky goes to bed. Forever. He doesn't move. This is not good. I figure he's just really tired from barfing all that nastiness up and being awake all weekend on his retreat. But this morning, he fell asleep on his floor and didn't move. All day. I explained to SuperHubby my fear: because of the moaning and major showboating, I have always had this fear that the child will have appendicitis but we'll think it's just a hangnail and ignore it. And we almost did.
But we called the doctor and they saw him; then they sent him to MUSC to "rule out" appendicitis. Three doctors later, they'd ruled it IN and were planning on surgery. The big problem? I was stranded at home because SH had taken my car - because his car was in dire straights. Now who wants to be a Fitzgerald?
I called everyone I knew. I couldn't get anyone on the phone. And frankly, I was a little frantic. Not nearly as calm as when its SH on the table. I finally got the Smurf and she came and ran me to the ER and took FrogBoy to spend the night with her. Then we spent the next several hours waiting through a gunshot wound and a pediatric heart transplant, which pretty much bummed me out.
Other than the resident who felt compelled to discuss the possible complications of surgery while standing over my 13-year-old's bed, the entire staff was fantastic. Spanky did great and came through like a trooper. I was really proud of him. And man, did he look like his daddy. If SH hadn't been sitting next to me, I would have sworn it was him in that bed.
And so ends another exciting day in the Fitzgerald household. It is January 21 and we have met our $5500 family deductible already. I discovered that my son can be very brave when he has to be, and I am extremely proud of the way he handled himself throughout the whole ordeal. And like I told him earlier (when he was still dopey and probably won't remember it) - he can hold this over our heads for the rest of our lives. We kind of thought he was just being dramatic.
Let's cut to the chase: right now it is 1:30 a.m., and if you know anything about me, you're wondering what on earth I'm doing up at such an ungodly hour. Well, I'll tell you. We've been at MUSC all day with Spanky - having his appendix removed.
Honestly.
It all started about 2 hours after he returned from a weekend youth retreat at church. Apparently Scott can take him away for a week at a time, three years in a row, but give him to Mike and Ernest for 48 hours and he comes back in need of having parts removed.
He came home and was starving. So we fed the boy. We're good parents like that. A couple of hours later, he's laying on the sofa, moaning. He is nothing if not a Drama King. SuperHubby banished him to the upstairs because, frankly, the moaning gets old pretty quickly. An hour later, he barfs all over the bathroom (walls, tub, floor, you name it. It was ugly. And no, I did NOT clean it up. That's SH's job. My job is snot.)
Then Spanky goes to bed. Forever. He doesn't move. This is not good. I figure he's just really tired from barfing all that nastiness up and being awake all weekend on his retreat. But this morning, he fell asleep on his floor and didn't move. All day. I explained to SuperHubby my fear: because of the moaning and major showboating, I have always had this fear that the child will have appendicitis but we'll think it's just a hangnail and ignore it. And we almost did.
But we called the doctor and they saw him; then they sent him to MUSC to "rule out" appendicitis. Three doctors later, they'd ruled it IN and were planning on surgery. The big problem? I was stranded at home because SH had taken my car - because his car was in dire straights. Now who wants to be a Fitzgerald?
I called everyone I knew. I couldn't get anyone on the phone. And frankly, I was a little frantic. Not nearly as calm as when its SH on the table. I finally got the Smurf and she came and ran me to the ER and took FrogBoy to spend the night with her. Then we spent the next several hours waiting through a gunshot wound and a pediatric heart transplant, which pretty much bummed me out.
Other than the resident who felt compelled to discuss the possible complications of surgery while standing over my 13-year-old's bed, the entire staff was fantastic. Spanky did great and came through like a trooper. I was really proud of him. And man, did he look like his daddy. If SH hadn't been sitting next to me, I would have sworn it was him in that bed.
And so ends another exciting day in the Fitzgerald household. It is January 21 and we have met our $5500 family deductible already. I discovered that my son can be very brave when he has to be, and I am extremely proud of the way he handled himself throughout the whole ordeal. And like I told him earlier (when he was still dopey and probably won't remember it) - he can hold this over our heads for the rest of our lives. We kind of thought he was just being dramatic.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
That's AUNT GOOFBALL, Thank You Very Much
Somehow I have gone from being a cute, sassy, queen-of-it-all to being a giant gooberhead in a single week. I expect geekdome from The Professor; I really didn't think I'd be joining in at such a young age.
I tried to figure out when it started. I think it may have been last week. SuperHubby was unable to take Spanky and some buddies to see I Am Legend for Spanky's birthday. I figured that wouldn't be an issue. I really wanted to see the movie myself, so I invited The Professor to join me and we just punted. No biggie.
Until I mentioned it to Spanky. Apparently it was okay for Daddy to sit in the same auditorium as the boys, and it was fine if Uncle Larry sat in the same ROW as them, but when I mentioned I was going, the child thought I was smoking crack. I finally had to promise to merely fork over about $100 for their tickets and snacks, then act like I didn't know them for the next 2 hours. I could feel the love.
Then on Monday of this week, SuperHubby's younger sister had a baby. For those keeping track at home, this makes me an aunt for the 11th time. As of a year and a half ago, I am also a great-aunt. Now I realize that the major factor in this is SuperHubby and his weirdo family. There are 5 kids, with a 17-year age gap between the first and the last, which makes for a lot of nieces and nephews. With the Salleys, 2 kids was a big family, so I'm still a little amazed that I have 11 little people calling me Aunt Lori.
Then last night came. The final straw. My oldest nephew from my brother and sis-in-law was in his school's middle school play. Actually, he was the main character. Other than Annie, but I think that was just an oversight. They play really should have been called Daddy Warbucks and some Random Orphan. But I digress.
So we go to the play, he's amazing, and everything seems fine. I mean, I teared up a few times during the play, but I regained my composure pretty well. Plus it was dark, which always helps when you're about to embarrass yourself.
After the play, we all gathered around to tell him how great he did. And somehow, at that moment in my life, I went from totally cool to totally NOT in 0.4 seconds flat. I started bawling like a baby. I couldn't talk. Poor kid was patting me on the back and telling me it was okay and probably wondering what the heck my problem was. I tried to compose myself and just lost it again completely. I'm misting up even now.
I think the problem started when he allowed me to hug him. In public. He's 14, so that alone explains that statement. But somehow, when I watched him on that stage and then later told him how proud I was of him, the only image I could conjure up in my mind was April 8, 1994, when SuperHubby and I drove to Columbia and I held my brother's hours-old firstborn child.
Our kids are growing up. Spanky is already 13 and FrogBoy will be 10 in June. What I wouldn't give for a magic pill that would allow them to stay little forever.
Somehow I have gone from being a cute, sassy, queen-of-it-all to being a giant gooberhead in a single week. I expect geekdome from The Professor; I really didn't think I'd be joining in at such a young age.
I tried to figure out when it started. I think it may have been last week. SuperHubby was unable to take Spanky and some buddies to see I Am Legend for Spanky's birthday. I figured that wouldn't be an issue. I really wanted to see the movie myself, so I invited The Professor to join me and we just punted. No biggie.
Until I mentioned it to Spanky. Apparently it was okay for Daddy to sit in the same auditorium as the boys, and it was fine if Uncle Larry sat in the same ROW as them, but when I mentioned I was going, the child thought I was smoking crack. I finally had to promise to merely fork over about $100 for their tickets and snacks, then act like I didn't know them for the next 2 hours. I could feel the love.
Then on Monday of this week, SuperHubby's younger sister had a baby. For those keeping track at home, this makes me an aunt for the 11th time. As of a year and a half ago, I am also a great-aunt. Now I realize that the major factor in this is SuperHubby and his weirdo family. There are 5 kids, with a 17-year age gap between the first and the last, which makes for a lot of nieces and nephews. With the Salleys, 2 kids was a big family, so I'm still a little amazed that I have 11 little people calling me Aunt Lori.
Then last night came. The final straw. My oldest nephew from my brother and sis-in-law was in his school's middle school play. Actually, he was the main character. Other than Annie, but I think that was just an oversight. They play really should have been called Daddy Warbucks and some Random Orphan. But I digress.
So we go to the play, he's amazing, and everything seems fine. I mean, I teared up a few times during the play, but I regained my composure pretty well. Plus it was dark, which always helps when you're about to embarrass yourself.
After the play, we all gathered around to tell him how great he did. And somehow, at that moment in my life, I went from totally cool to totally NOT in 0.4 seconds flat. I started bawling like a baby. I couldn't talk. Poor kid was patting me on the back and telling me it was okay and probably wondering what the heck my problem was. I tried to compose myself and just lost it again completely. I'm misting up even now.
I think the problem started when he allowed me to hug him. In public. He's 14, so that alone explains that statement. But somehow, when I watched him on that stage and then later told him how proud I was of him, the only image I could conjure up in my mind was April 8, 1994, when SuperHubby and I drove to Columbia and I held my brother's hours-old firstborn child.
Our kids are growing up. Spanky is already 13 and FrogBoy will be 10 in June. What I wouldn't give for a magic pill that would allow them to stay little forever.
Monday, January 14, 2008
Spanky Update
A couple of days ago I posted about Spanky getting in trouble at school. He's been sweating bullets ever since. After torturing the kid for almost a week, the school finally called me today. It was all I could do to remain calm during the conversation with the woman who called me.
Apparently, several 13-year-old boys were doing what 13-year-old boys do: they were talking when they were told specifically not to talk. Okay, I'm fine with that. I'm even 100% fine with punishing them for their crime. However, I think the school may have gone just a bit overboard.
There are 5 possible punishments when you receive a referral. They are:
1. Lunch detention
2. After school detention
3. Saturday school
4. In school suspension
5. Out of school suspension
I knew there was no way they'd go nutso and suspend the boys, so I figured I'd flow with whatever punishment was doled out. Then the office clerk called me. She made the crime sound very serious. She even sounded a little disappointed when I told her that Spanky had confessed the entire thing to us last week. I think she was hoping to get him in trouble.
Then she said, "Since I don't know who did what, I'm punishing them all the same. I didn't want to give them ISS (in school suspension), so I'm giving them all Saturday school. This Saturday."
Okay, the kid broke the rules. He talked when he wasn't supposed to. But Saturday school? For that?! Seriously, aren't there more serious things happening in school that deserve that punishment? What do they do when they catch someone doing something BAD? I mean, this was his first infraction, and not all that serious, by the way, and they act like he committed a cardinal sin.
I promptly informed the office clerk that he would NOT be serving Saturday school this weekend, as he is going out of town with his church youth group. I did agree to have him serve the next time they have it, which is in 2 weeks. I figure maybe he'll learn his lesson and we can prevent this scenario from repeating itself.
Meanwhile, I tell SuperHubby about it and he wants to know if we can appeal the ruling. This is only humorous if you know us, since I'm usually the one arguing for the boy and SH is usually the one saying "MORE PUNISHMENT!!"
Spanky's biggest complaint wasn't Saturday school...it was that they ALSO said he dared another kid to bite his finger. And so ends another dramatic evening in the Spankster's life.
A couple of days ago I posted about Spanky getting in trouble at school. He's been sweating bullets ever since. After torturing the kid for almost a week, the school finally called me today. It was all I could do to remain calm during the conversation with the woman who called me.
Apparently, several 13-year-old boys were doing what 13-year-old boys do: they were talking when they were told specifically not to talk. Okay, I'm fine with that. I'm even 100% fine with punishing them for their crime. However, I think the school may have gone just a bit overboard.
There are 5 possible punishments when you receive a referral. They are:
1. Lunch detention
2. After school detention
3. Saturday school
4. In school suspension
5. Out of school suspension
I knew there was no way they'd go nutso and suspend the boys, so I figured I'd flow with whatever punishment was doled out. Then the office clerk called me. She made the crime sound very serious. She even sounded a little disappointed when I told her that Spanky had confessed the entire thing to us last week. I think she was hoping to get him in trouble.
Then she said, "Since I don't know who did what, I'm punishing them all the same. I didn't want to give them ISS (in school suspension), so I'm giving them all Saturday school. This Saturday."
Okay, the kid broke the rules. He talked when he wasn't supposed to. But Saturday school? For that?! Seriously, aren't there more serious things happening in school that deserve that punishment? What do they do when they catch someone doing something BAD? I mean, this was his first infraction, and not all that serious, by the way, and they act like he committed a cardinal sin.
I promptly informed the office clerk that he would NOT be serving Saturday school this weekend, as he is going out of town with his church youth group. I did agree to have him serve the next time they have it, which is in 2 weeks. I figure maybe he'll learn his lesson and we can prevent this scenario from repeating itself.
Meanwhile, I tell SuperHubby about it and he wants to know if we can appeal the ruling. This is only humorous if you know us, since I'm usually the one arguing for the boy and SH is usually the one saying "MORE PUNISHMENT!!"
Spanky's biggest complaint wasn't Saturday school...it was that they ALSO said he dared another kid to bite his finger. And so ends another dramatic evening in the Spankster's life.
Friday, January 11, 2008
13
Today is Spanky's 13th birthday. There is no possible way that this can be true, and yet that's what the calendar tells me.
For those who don't know the story, I had a seizure when I was 35 weeks pregnant with Spanky. Never had one before, but boy did I do it right the first time. I went into labor. When we got to the hospital (I was at work, and they weren't exceptionally bright people, so it took a few minutes) I had another seizure...and we both stopped breathing. We almost died.
After an emergency C-section, I spent the next 2 days in la-la land. When I woke up, I didn't even remember being pregnant (it came back to me after they told me I had a baby). Spanky spent a week in neonatal ICU. It was a rough week. Poor SuperHubby had to deal with all that and family too.
So this year, as I wallow in self-pity over how old I must be to have a 13-year-old, I have to thank God that He saved us. I tried saving some pix but apparently I'm not smart enough to make my computer work; sevearal weeks ago I screwed it up and things haven't been the same with posting since.
Anyway, happy birthday Spanky. I will show off your baby pictures another day.
Today is Spanky's 13th birthday. There is no possible way that this can be true, and yet that's what the calendar tells me.
For those who don't know the story, I had a seizure when I was 35 weeks pregnant with Spanky. Never had one before, but boy did I do it right the first time. I went into labor. When we got to the hospital (I was at work, and they weren't exceptionally bright people, so it took a few minutes) I had another seizure...and we both stopped breathing. We almost died.
After an emergency C-section, I spent the next 2 days in la-la land. When I woke up, I didn't even remember being pregnant (it came back to me after they told me I had a baby). Spanky spent a week in neonatal ICU. It was a rough week. Poor SuperHubby had to deal with all that and family too.
So this year, as I wallow in self-pity over how old I must be to have a 13-year-old, I have to thank God that He saved us. I tried saving some pix but apparently I'm not smart enough to make my computer work; sevearal weeks ago I screwed it up and things haven't been the same with posting since.
Anyway, happy birthday Spanky. I will show off your baby pictures another day.
Wednesday, January 09, 2008
Trouble with a Capital "S"
Spanky really stepped in it this time, friends. He comes home from school this afternoon, and with the most serious face he can muster, tells SuperHubby, "I have something to tell you." Uh-oh.
That's when the waterworks started. There was major snottage. He cried like a little girl. (Later, when I pointed this out, he told me he cried "like a man." I had to remind him that men don't cry like that - ever.)
Seems the Spankster got a referral at school. Two days before his big birthday. Not good timing. The best he can tell us is that he was talking in class when his teacher was out and she says she warned them that if they got written down for disobeying the substitute, they would get a referral. So his very serious reasoning for the referral was "But I didn't hear her say that!"
The child was hysterical. I thought he might hyperventilate. We asked what the punishment was. He had no idea. So I called the school. Apparently it can range from lunch detention to full-blown suspension. And my child, who has never been in BIG TROUBLE at school, is completely confident that they are kicking him out. For talking in class. Four months ago. (Yes, this happened at the beginning of the year, and the teacher is just now doling out the referrals. I don't quite understand that, but she just had a baby - 4 months ago - so maybe she's sleep deprived.)
Being totally awesome parents, SH and I informed Spankarooni that he would have to serve his punishment - because he did break the rules - but that we were sure the school wouldn't go overboard with said punishment. SH - in a great moment of parenting - asked what lesson had been learned. Spanky said he learned not to talk in class. Not wanting to leave well enough alone, I chimed in and asked what OTHER lesson he'd learned. Apparently he'd learned to give his mother a blank stare. I finally shared with him that he should obey the rules, whether he's reminded to or not. He and SH both looked at me like I had barfed up a unicycle on the living room carpet, but I thought it was good. SH took my first answer anyway.
So goes another day in the Fitzgerald household. I'm still waiting on my call from the school to tell me about my child's horrible infraction against humankind. I hope I can act upset when they call.
Spanky really stepped in it this time, friends. He comes home from school this afternoon, and with the most serious face he can muster, tells SuperHubby, "I have something to tell you." Uh-oh.
That's when the waterworks started. There was major snottage. He cried like a little girl. (Later, when I pointed this out, he told me he cried "like a man." I had to remind him that men don't cry like that - ever.)
Seems the Spankster got a referral at school. Two days before his big birthday. Not good timing. The best he can tell us is that he was talking in class when his teacher was out and she says she warned them that if they got written down for disobeying the substitute, they would get a referral. So his very serious reasoning for the referral was "But I didn't hear her say that!"
The child was hysterical. I thought he might hyperventilate. We asked what the punishment was. He had no idea. So I called the school. Apparently it can range from lunch detention to full-blown suspension. And my child, who has never been in BIG TROUBLE at school, is completely confident that they are kicking him out. For talking in class. Four months ago. (Yes, this happened at the beginning of the year, and the teacher is just now doling out the referrals. I don't quite understand that, but she just had a baby - 4 months ago - so maybe she's sleep deprived.)
Being totally awesome parents, SH and I informed Spankarooni that he would have to serve his punishment - because he did break the rules - but that we were sure the school wouldn't go overboard with said punishment. SH - in a great moment of parenting - asked what lesson had been learned. Spanky said he learned not to talk in class. Not wanting to leave well enough alone, I chimed in and asked what OTHER lesson he'd learned. Apparently he'd learned to give his mother a blank stare. I finally shared with him that he should obey the rules, whether he's reminded to or not. He and SH both looked at me like I had barfed up a unicycle on the living room carpet, but I thought it was good. SH took my first answer anyway.
So goes another day in the Fitzgerald household. I'm still waiting on my call from the school to tell me about my child's horrible infraction against humankind. I hope I can act upset when they call.
If Ignorance is Bliss...
...then the people at my drugstore must be absofreakinlutely giddy.
We just went to a high deductible health insurance plan at the church. That means that we have to pay for our prescriptions and/or doctor visits, etc. until we reach our deductible. So of course, last night I had to refill my prescription.
You would think this would be an easy task. Not so. Following is the actual conversation I had with the pharmacy tech...
Pharmacy Tech: "Do you have insurance?"
Me: "Yes, but we just changed to a different plan, and we don't have the cards yet."
Pharmacy Tech: "We don't have any record of your insurance."
Me: "Right. It's a high deductible policy, so I have to pay for the prescription."
Pharmacy Tech: "Well then you're going to have to pay cash for it."
Me (thinking): Why would I have to pay CASH? Could I not give them my debit card? And didn't she just repeat what I just said?
Me (out loud): "Okay. How much is it?"
Pharmacy Tech: "Well, we didn't really have all of your prescription."
Me: "How much do you have?"
Pharmacy Tech: "20 pills."
Me: "I take 300 pills a month. That's only 2 days worth."
At this point, the Pharmacy Manager came over, because apparently I had used up my allotted time in the drive thru.
Me: "I need to know how much my prescription costs."
Pharmacy Manager: "Oh, I can't tell you that until I bill you."
Me: "Okay."
Pharmacy Manager: "I can't bill you until I have the full amount of your prescription. It's the law."
Me: "Okay. Can I get the 20 pills you have. I really need the prescription."
Pharmacy Manager: "Okay."
Me: "And can you tell me how much it will be each month?"
(This was apparently the wrong question, as he looked like his head might explode.
Pharmacy Manager: "Well, I really can't tell you until I bill it, but I'd guess about $300 a month."
(Okay, so now we're just guessing. Nice.)
Me: "Online it said it would cost about $200 a month."
Pharmacy Manager: "I dunno."
Me: "Okay. Can you at least increase your monthly order to include my prescription. I have been coming here for several months and you never have the full amount of my prescription. In fact, you usually only have a couple of days worth."
Pharmacy Manager: "I dunno. I guess I can try to up the order, I'm not sure."
(Okay, seriously, who made THIS GUY manager?)
Bottom line, I ended up leaving the pharmacy with 2 days of my prescription, in a very aggravated state, and realizing that because they didn't have what I needed, I won't be able to file the $300 or $200 or whatever my prescription actually ends up costing with my flex spending for reimbursement until after this week's cutoff. Which means I'll have to wait more than a week to be reimbursed that money. And we generally don't have an extra $200 in the budget.
Meanwhile, I really hate this pharmacy now, but it's really close to our house, and it is 24-hours, which is something that often comes in handy in our house. So I'm stuck.
At this point, I can't decide who I despise dealing with more...the drugstore or the insurance company.
...then the people at my drugstore must be absofreakinlutely giddy.
We just went to a high deductible health insurance plan at the church. That means that we have to pay for our prescriptions and/or doctor visits, etc. until we reach our deductible. So of course, last night I had to refill my prescription.
You would think this would be an easy task. Not so. Following is the actual conversation I had with the pharmacy tech...
Pharmacy Tech: "Do you have insurance?"
Me: "Yes, but we just changed to a different plan, and we don't have the cards yet."
Pharmacy Tech: "We don't have any record of your insurance."
Me: "Right. It's a high deductible policy, so I have to pay for the prescription."
Pharmacy Tech: "Well then you're going to have to pay cash for it."
Me (thinking): Why would I have to pay CASH? Could I not give them my debit card? And didn't she just repeat what I just said?
Me (out loud): "Okay. How much is it?"
Pharmacy Tech: "Well, we didn't really have all of your prescription."
Me: "How much do you have?"
Pharmacy Tech: "20 pills."
Me: "I take 300 pills a month. That's only 2 days worth."
At this point, the Pharmacy Manager came over, because apparently I had used up my allotted time in the drive thru.
Me: "I need to know how much my prescription costs."
Pharmacy Manager: "Oh, I can't tell you that until I bill you."
Me: "Okay."
Pharmacy Manager: "I can't bill you until I have the full amount of your prescription. It's the law."
Me: "Okay. Can I get the 20 pills you have. I really need the prescription."
Pharmacy Manager: "Okay."
Me: "And can you tell me how much it will be each month?"
(This was apparently the wrong question, as he looked like his head might explode.
Pharmacy Manager: "Well, I really can't tell you until I bill it, but I'd guess about $300 a month."
(Okay, so now we're just guessing. Nice.)
Me: "Online it said it would cost about $200 a month."
Pharmacy Manager: "I dunno."
Me: "Okay. Can you at least increase your monthly order to include my prescription. I have been coming here for several months and you never have the full amount of my prescription. In fact, you usually only have a couple of days worth."
Pharmacy Manager: "I dunno. I guess I can try to up the order, I'm not sure."
(Okay, seriously, who made THIS GUY manager?)
Bottom line, I ended up leaving the pharmacy with 2 days of my prescription, in a very aggravated state, and realizing that because they didn't have what I needed, I won't be able to file the $300 or $200 or whatever my prescription actually ends up costing with my flex spending for reimbursement until after this week's cutoff. Which means I'll have to wait more than a week to be reimbursed that money. And we generally don't have an extra $200 in the budget.
Meanwhile, I really hate this pharmacy now, but it's really close to our house, and it is 24-hours, which is something that often comes in handy in our house. So I'm stuck.
At this point, I can't decide who I despise dealing with more...the drugstore or the insurance company.
Wednesday, January 02, 2008
Have a DE-Lightful 2008!
This morning, as I was driving to work at 6:45 (because my stupid internal clock doesn't realize that when the boys sleepover at my aunt's house, that means I should get to sleep in), I noticed that there was a very upsetting trend occurring in Mt. Pleasant. There are many, many houses, and many, many neighborhoods, that still have their Christmas lights up. Tacky.
Before I get all sorts of grief over this, I'm all for having a festive wreath on your front door. I have a seasonal wreath for every month of the year. (I know what you're thinking: of course I do.) I am also not at all offended by those folks who decorate in a very subtle fashion for Christmas and then leave the lights up for the better portion of January. Key word being SUBTLE.
What gets me is the people who still have plastic nativities in their front yards. Christmas wreaths adorning every single window in their house (which frankly is a bit much in December, but that's not the point right now). And if the lights you have out are red and green, its time for them to go.
My sis-in-law is planning on leaving her lights out a bit longer. That's cool. They are small and white. No problem. And there's a house on my way to work that decorated their palmetto trees with lights...which would be really cool if they didn't give them purple trunks. I've lived in Charleston my whole life and I've never seen a purple palmetto tree. But when you pass a house with reindeer still in the yard and blinking mismatched Christmas lights on the porch, friends, that is just unacceptable.
I've heard that it's bad luck to leave your decorations up past December 31. You're not supposed to hit January 1 with the stuff still up. I don't know the origin - maybe someone with good taste just said it once and it stuck.
Anyway, after you get your decorations down, I hope you have a Happy New Year!!
This morning, as I was driving to work at 6:45 (because my stupid internal clock doesn't realize that when the boys sleepover at my aunt's house, that means I should get to sleep in), I noticed that there was a very upsetting trend occurring in Mt. Pleasant. There are many, many houses, and many, many neighborhoods, that still have their Christmas lights up. Tacky.
Before I get all sorts of grief over this, I'm all for having a festive wreath on your front door. I have a seasonal wreath for every month of the year. (I know what you're thinking: of course I do.) I am also not at all offended by those folks who decorate in a very subtle fashion for Christmas and then leave the lights up for the better portion of January. Key word being SUBTLE.
What gets me is the people who still have plastic nativities in their front yards. Christmas wreaths adorning every single window in their house (which frankly is a bit much in December, but that's not the point right now). And if the lights you have out are red and green, its time for them to go.
My sis-in-law is planning on leaving her lights out a bit longer. That's cool. They are small and white. No problem. And there's a house on my way to work that decorated their palmetto trees with lights...which would be really cool if they didn't give them purple trunks. I've lived in Charleston my whole life and I've never seen a purple palmetto tree. But when you pass a house with reindeer still in the yard and blinking mismatched Christmas lights on the porch, friends, that is just unacceptable.
I've heard that it's bad luck to leave your decorations up past December 31. You're not supposed to hit January 1 with the stuff still up. I don't know the origin - maybe someone with good taste just said it once and it stuck.
Anyway, after you get your decorations down, I hope you have a Happy New Year!!
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