Now, you may remember how pissed I was that Family First was giving me the big (and RUDE) middle finger, and that I don’t feel emotionally capable of going to Cheyenne Women’s Clinic, and that this leaves me LITERALLY with only one option – going to Cheyenne OB/GYN (hereafter known as COG).
When I’m not pregnant, this isn’t a big deal because my favorite nurse practitioner EVER works there – Jean Mages. It IS a big deal when I AM pregnant because Jean isn’t allowed to do prenatals at all. She doesn’t do prenatals or anything obstetric. She is STRICTLY gyno.
But, what choice do I have?
So, miracles conspired.
First, last November, an ultrasound I had to determine whether or not I had an ectopic pregnancy was somehow mis-labeled, and I ended up with $400 balance with COG. What happens a lot with our insurance is that the practice will send us a ridiculous bill like this, but if I jump and pay it immediately, they’ll end up sending 75% of it back, so I’ve learned to just wait until the insurance gets a clue and then pay the balance.
Not so this time. “$400, please, or we won’t be able to see you at all… oh, and you’ll need to put down another $100 deposit since your insurance doesn’t cover 100%. And pay $500 out of pocket before your 30-week mark. Roughly.”
Fine. Whatever. I don’t have a choice, I’m stuck over a barrel, I’ll pay it when I have the cash. That happened day before yesterday, finally. WOO! I call to make the payment, completely prepared to pay the $500 total just to get an appointment (after having been told that it’ll be mid-June before I can be seen in any case), and there was a surprise waiting for me.
One of the doctors – ironically, one of the ones I am the most leery about – offered to pay for half of my outstanding balance if I paid up by May 25. Um… Okay? That’s fine. Oh, AND they can get me in on Friday morning, or would Thursday be better? Friday morning is fine, thanks… I thought you guys didn’t have room until mid-June! Really, who told you that?
I take Joe to work this morning (after being up late with Kimmie and Dennis and sick kids), and I head over to COG a couple of blocks away. My appointment was with the Nurse Midwife, which is AWESOME, but I figured that this would be the only time I’d get to see her since I’m considered high-risk. We talk, we chit-chat, we go over my whole history, including the risk factors, she does a PAP, the whole nine yards, and I mention that I really wish I could see her as my primary, but I understand that it’s probably impossible.
She says, “Well, I wouldn’t say that. Since you want a natural birth, I’m your girl, but I’d really like it if you would agree to have an IV.” Uh… Sure! You can deliver for me? “Oh, sure! I’ll have to have my back-up physician right there on call, but I can be there with you through the whole thing.” That would be so incredibly great!
My instructions were no big surprise: No lifting anything heavier than ten or twenty pounds, and even then, don’t do it often. Low to moderate walking, but sit with my feet up as often as possible. Because it appears that the hernia site is being compromised, there will be no taking risks like digging pits or building houses. Keep with the standard meat-and-veggies diet, take the prenatals as much as I can, and when I can’t, take four of the kids’ gummy vitamins. Drink lots of water, get lots of rest, etc. etc.
Starting in the 27th week or so, I’ll be going in every week for non-stress tests to make sure that we’re not going to have a repeat of last time. She’d really like to do an earlier ultrasound, just to make sure everything is okay, and then we’ll have another ultrasound at 20 weeks or so. I suggested that we wait until the next appointment to do the first ultrasound because I really don’t want to over-expose the lentil to anything like that. I have no idea if I’m going to get the glucose screening (gods, I hate those…) or anything like that, but I do know that if I get to continue seeing Phyllis, I’m going to finally have a really awesome pregnancy and delivery – not having to worry about much of anything.
I mean, beyond the obvious.