Sweet Mary in the Manger, This Day Has Sucked!

A couple of days ago, I started wondering if perhaps I was getting a UTI.  Instead, I wanted to believe that the cramping I was feeling was maybe implantation.  Yeah, neurotic.  Then yesterday, we went for a run and I was WIPED 1 mile in (3 miles is not a problem for me) and thought, "Hmmmm, maybe I really am getting an infection.  Or maybe I'm pregnant and that's why I'm tired.  Let's go with that."  Then today was full on burning pee every hour so there's no denying it - I have a UTI. I have an appt with my PCP in the morning to confirm.  Swell.  But here's where I'm worried.  I'm not a fan of my PCP and I moved recently and should choose a new one, but she already knows my history.  Let's just say that when I got off the pill, she prescribed me a narcotic, because that's better than 30 Advil in a day when I'm on my period, and then told me not to take it in my third trimester.  I actually had to tell her, "Well, if I'm in my third trimester I won't have menstrual cramps."  She looked at me blank faced and just said, "yes."

This is my 4th UTI in a year, my 3rd in about 6 months.  Last time I had one she told me she was going to put me on a prophylactic antibiotic to take every time I have sex.  Now, Dr. Google says this is a totally reasonable course of treatment, but I'm not feeling so great about it in the TTC context.  And what does a UTI and antibiotics mean for this upcoming cycle?  It should be gone and over before the IUI, but STILL!  It makes me nervous.  So I called the nurses line at my RE's office and didn't get a call back.  I just wanted to have a game plan if/when she presented me with the prophylactic idea.  So that was a bummer.

THEN I got a call from the fertility pharmacy.  They said that my insurance denied the preapproval for meds because they only cover drugs for timed intercourse cycles.  I know this is the story for my primary, but not my secondary.  See, when we got married, I signed on to Mr. Right's plan because there actually are some infertility benefits (very, very blessed, I know), but I was feeling all self-righteous about dropping my insurance.  There was no employee premium for the lowest level insurance, and I felt like if I dropped it, I was doing the state a favor and not seeing any of the money I was saving them (I'm a state employee - we've been furloughed , had premiums raised, cuts in retirement matching, no raise in 3 years, furloughed again, etc - I'm bitter).  So I kept my insurance, which serves as my primary, and since it covers nothing, it ends up being more of a hinderance than a help.  People aren't fans of the complication and don't really like filing with two plans.  Anyway, back to the pharmacist call.  She said that my RE's office was saying my secondary was only for medical and not pharmacy so they were refusing to fill out the preapproval form.  So I called my RE's office and got the snippy financial chick.  She kept talking over me and ma'aming me.  I was trying to tell her what the pharmacy told me and she was trying to tell me what my insurance would cover.  I KNOW what they cover, I'm just trying to tell you what the chick told me, biotch!  Turns out she had told the pharmacy lady already that she had to wait for the denial from my primary before she could send her the forms for the secondary and that they were all filled out and ready to go.  Did she apologize for being a biotch?  No.  I called the pharmacy back and I THINK I straightened in out, but in the meantime, AF IS SUPPOSED TO COME TUESDAY AND I NEED MY DAMNED DRUGS!  One more thing to stress about.  And someone tell that woman that when there is an infertile, PMSing woman on the line, trying to protect her financial situation which is the ONLY thing she has some remote semblance of control over in this game - SHE SHOULD NOT BE MA'AMED!  Or yelled at and talked over either, but FOR SURE NOT MA'AMED!

And THEN there's fun work stuff.  I got to give very bad news for the second time this week.  You know how when you get an ultrasound and there's bad news, the tech totally knows what's up, but since the doctor makes the big bucks, he/she is recruited to tell you the bad news?  Doesn't happen in my profession.  Telling a parent that their child needs another surgery on his little noggin when they didn't see it coming?  Blows.

So we went out to dinner and I ate pasta.  Pooh on you, day!