Bitter Pill

I've spent the majority of today feeling angry and resentful. I was getting so out of hand that I pretty much locked myself in my Loosey room in the basement for two hours this afternoon and tried to wait it out. But what I wanted to do was scream and punch things. Then I wanted to get in my car and drive far, far away.

I've been feeling utterly trapped lately, like I can't move forward and I refuse to go back. There are so many things that are beyond my control, so I've been taking care of what I can control. But it doesn't seem to help much when, in the grand scheme of things, I feel pretty much on my own. Wasn't the point of growing up to create some kind of lifestyle where I didn't feel this way?

I've clearly failed myself, because when I wake up in the morning and go to the bathroom and brush my teeth, I look at myself in the mirror, and I have no idea who that woman is staring back. What does she want? Where is she going in her life? What is she good at? Who are her adult people?

If it wasn't for my son's repeating the same questions over and over again all the time and his persistent, "Mom, mom, mom..." with no actual follow up I'm pretty sure I'd go through most days never talking to anyone.

I guess it is what it is. But it feels horrible.

One of my many ugly sides

I don't get jealous. I don't get judgmental. I'm pretty understanding about most things. But I have an ugly issue...

I have a list in my head of things that really yank my chain.

I could dwell on them all, but I think I'll give you one. It's marital, so if personal stuff makes you uncomfortable, stop reading now. Don't worry, it's not sexual. :-)

Anyway, as everyone knows MacTroll is a good guy. He's pretty smart. He mixes a good drink. He's low key and he's very social. He doesn't sleep with women in the bathroom attached to our bedroom. He doesn't get loaded and go home with hookers or porn stars and make them his goddesses. 

Everyone also knows that for the past 10 years, MacTroll has traveled for work. I've gotten used to us being separated. I've gotten used to the back and forth of being a single parent and then adjusting to have someone else in the house. We've always lived very independent lives. And I love the fact that he loves his work. Not very many people get to say that. He loves it so much that his employment is not only his work -- it's his hobby and enjoyment. The Fruit apparently meets a lot of my husband's mental needs, and he thrives on it. Fine, Great.

But periodically, when I'm back home on the range with a child, a dog and four cats, we have a rough night here or there. Riley suddenly catches wind of a sniff or a sight of something wild behind the fence, goes into guard dog mode and insists on being let out every hour to keep watch over whatever it is that he's worried about -- like that plastic bag stuck on a weed that just looks evil or those Canadian Geese that he thinks have gotten too close to our white picket fence. 

Nights like that always happen at the same time as something else, like X-man has a bedwetting incident or he has diarrhea or one of the cats starts throwing up all over the house -- or all of the above. And then I'll end up with a fever or vomiting or something terrible. You know, when it rains it pours, or something like that. 

When it happens and I'm alone, I still have to get up, go to work, run the house and take care of a kid and the animals and keep going. Sometimes it's dog one night and kid the next... just to keep it interesting. 

And my husband will insist that sleeping in hotels is not fun. That his 800-count Egyption thread sheets and maid service and restaurant meals isn't very comforting and that he doesn't sleep well on the road. Yeah, right. No one is waking his ass up at 2:30 a.m. yammering about how there's a monster under his bed. And then when you go to lie with him, you realize the monster is about a cup of urine that you just sat in in your pajamas. Sigh.

So, last night, the dog had a guard dog night. Usually it's the scent of coyote urine that freaks him out a bit. I was ill with a low-grade fever and chills and MacTroll wasn't ready to go to sleep when I was (around 10:30 p.m.) so he went into the guest room. Where I guess the dog got him up six times between whatever time MacTroll decided to go to bed and 6:30 a.m. 

And at 8:45 p.m. tonight, Mactroll claimed he was too tired to carry on and went into our bedroom and turned off the lights. At 9:30 p.m. he was sound asleep. And there I was... on my own, doing bath and bedtime by myself, again. 

Ugly, ugly resentment is my issue. And here I bet you thought I was such a nice woman. 

Frustration with Corporate Entities

I have had a lot of frustration this week. Frustration is difficult because the difficulties stem from many levels.

This week, my frustration was with bureaucracy that makes no sense.

Last December I needed to see an out-of-network medical provider. I called my insurance company and got the required pre-authorization to go see the specialist. I got the billing info, the provider's special codes, the whole nine yards. I received my pre-authorization letter in the mail. Then I made an appointment and went to see my provider. In the middle of my pre-authorization, I get a letter that my husband's medical benefits are changing after the first of the year. So, after the first of the year I would need to receive new pre-authorization (i.e. do it all over again) to continue seeing any out-of-network providers. I call up the new 1-800 number because I had two visits scheduled for after the first of the year, and they tell me "no problems."

I get a summary two weeks ago from the insurance company denying my claim for the first two visits I had in 2009... because I didn't get preauthorization.

I figured, "Oooh, it's a mess up, because thanks to my wonderful filing system, HERE is my preauthorization letter."

Alas, it can't be that easy. Apparently, the Mega Clinic I went to see my specialist bill the charges under some other provider's name... a provider I didn't see.

Okay, well, I'll call the Clinic and have them fix it. Alas, the Mega Clinc has some rule about billing under the name of the supervising doctor (whose name I didn't have preauthorization for) rather than the mid-level doctor, and, of course, I saw the mid-level. What can I do?

"Call your insurance company and tell them it's our policy NOT to bill under a mid-level's name, which they should know, and that we're happy to send them a letter from your provider, IF YOU WAIVE YOUR RIGHT TO PRIVACY, to send them the information they're seeking.

So, I call the insurance company who responds with, "You'll need to call your provider and have them give you an itemized bill with your provider's name and the charges on it. Fax it to us, we'll pay what's covered and then you can pay them."

I call the Mega Clinic back (and may I say that the woman who was helping me was very nice. I do not blame her for the large corporate bullshit at all). The woman at the clinic explains to me that it's not just a clinic policy to bill under the supervising professional -- it's a state law. Well, crap. She tells me she's sorry that I'm having to do unnecessary footwork. And what she would suggest I do was to come in and sign off the permission so they can share my info with the insurance company and then give the claims department at the insurance company the name/number and fax number of the poor person at Mega Clinic that spends every day in the red tape and let them duke it out. Because, I, as the patient, met my paperwork requirement when I got pre-authorized.

So yesterday, I went in and signed the paperwork to sign away my privacy, so Evil Insurance and Mega Clinic could get together like two long-time divorced parents who still hate each other while their only child is not in the room.

Then I called the insurance agency and said, "Here's the name and phone number to call and here's the fax machine number."

Because right now I'm sitting on $500 in medical bills to Mega Clinic. And well over half of it should be covered by Evil Insurance, and that's just the first two appointments. I can't wait to see what happens with the second two that were after the first of the year...

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. It's no wonder I run. Or I'd punch someone in the face.

Assumptions and Stupidity

Yeah, I'm going to rant here and send probably the seven people who read my blog into cardiac arrest because I'm going to use the non-identifying, yet all accusing "you" in my sentences... and I'm going to do it as a list, so I don't forget anything.

1) Relationships are not all the same. What happened in your relationship isn't indicative of what will happen in others'. Just because you spend every moment of every day with your significant other and think that your relationship is healthy does not mean the fact that my husband travels extensively for work is unhealthy. It's just different. That's all.

2) Just because you know everything about your significant other's work life from the minute he or she punches in, to where the car is parked in the lot, to the major clients the company works with and like to parlay this information as if you, too, are employed by the company, doesn't mean that every employee's significant other is that involved, too. I have no idea what company my husband is visiting or sometimes even what state he is in. He has a habit of visiting 3-4 cities at a time in 5 days -- sometimes 2-3 weeks out of the month. I don't have the brain power to do that while I'm trying not to burn down my house as I cook dinner. 

3) Don't assume I have any power over where my significant other goes or doesn't go. People for some reason think I'm this complete control freak who bosses MacTroll around. I have no control over what he does or doesn't do for you. I only have control over what I do. Don't IM me and ask me what he's doing or if I can ask him to call you. If you have a grievance to file, do it with him... but I gotta tell you, I've got about 17 years worth of grievances filed ahead of you for him to address when he gets a free moment to focus on that kind of stuff, so you better get used to waiting. MacTroll goes where MacTroll wants to go. He says what he wants to say. He is the controller of his calendar. If you don't get what you want -- go talk to him and leave me out of it.  

4) If someone loves you enough to try and help you function when you're not functioning. Don't freaking take her head off. I don't care if you've had a shitty day. It makes her much, much less likely to want to do anything for you in the future. No matter how much she loves you. 

5) If you've been insulting to me and you go to apologize for your own jerkiness. Don't then follow up the apology with a, "Do you just not feel well?" implying that you really think there's something wrong with me and not your behavior. It completely voids your apology. You were a jerk. And now, you're an effin' jerk.

6) Boys play with dolls. Girls play with action figures. Boys sometimes like to dress up in dresses. Girls sometimes like to run around with their shirts off. Boys can wear pink if they want to. Girls can play in the mud and be gross and dirty. It's fine. There's nothing wrong with it. Just because you were nurtured one way and grew up with all kinds of closed mindedness about such things does not mean you should pick on your children or other people's children and try to shame them into holding your same sexist standards. My kid has a baby. The baby's name is Annika. The baby is a boy. The baby sleeps in a pink bassinet. He gets pushed around in a black and magenta stroller. X-man is learning to love and care for something through the same attachment-based ways he learned to love his parents. Seriously, step off. If I hear one more person say something about how boys won't like or will be embarrassed by having "girl" toys or vice versa, I'm gonna scream. Have you not seen this from 1974? You sound like an outdated moron when you say shit like that.

Yeah, I voted but I hated it

This morning I walked into my polling area in Savoy and placed my vote. I found this election particularly annoying because besides voting for school board members and voting whether or not to increase the county-wide sales tax to support the schools the rest of my ballot appeared pointless.

Most people ran unopposed. There's really no one to vote for in those situations. It's not like you have a choice. You're getting that person (or those people), so what's the point in filling out the bubble unless you're really gung ho for that candidate? I found it annoying.

I'm curious to see what happens with the sales tax this time around. I was uber disappointed that it didn't pass last November. Outside of the presidential race, it was the only one I was really excited to know the outcome. It failed by such narrow margins, mostly in the rural areas according to the News-Gazette. This time I don't have my hopes up. Mostly because the chance of X-man going to a neighborhood school in Savoy when he's in kindergarten in 2011 are basically zero. We moved here six years ago, and the papers have been talking about building a school down here for a decade, but my little community is waiting in line while people in other parts of the city (who have been waiting for multiple DECADES) may finally get their school improvements. 

It's disappointing how this community, situated next to one of the brainiest universities in the world, consistently refuses to take care of the educational needs of its children. 

Winter's Last Licks

I grew up in Rockford, Illinois, where I can remember having a snow day in 8th grade on April 26th and it being 85 degrees on May 2nd. I played too many soccer games in my youth dressed from head to toe, as I stood in the goal freezing my ass off and jumping up and down to stay warm, while flakes fell from the sky only to melt on the hard, dirt ground.

I'm used to thinking of winter as lasting November through April. I expect it.

But for some reason this year, I've been yearning for spring. Maybe it was my brief weekend in Arizona that made me start wishing for it. Maybe I'm just getting stir crazy inside my house after 12 days of being ill. But whatever it is, I'm watching the approaching snowstorm with a furrowed brow. 

I have tulips 5" out of the ground. I was ready to go to Prairie Gardens this weekend for some soil and compost. I wanted to open the windows and never worry about turning on the heat again. 

I'm being whiny. I know it. But I was sick through all the nice weather, and now that I feel like I'm finally pulling through -- I feel cheated because I had a fever through my whole spring break.

I guess I should remember that I only have 7 more weeks until the semester is done. 

Fear in the 21st Century

MacTroll and I lived in Northern Virginia on September 11, 2001. The plane that hit the Pentagon was less than a mile from my office. I saw the smoke from the impact when it happened. 

I drove by the hole in the building for months afterwards with large guns pointed at the commuters (like me) passing by as the military worried about terrorists driving trucks with bombs up to the Pentagon.

I watched 3,000 people burst into tears on 9/11/02, when the unexpected military flyby made everyone panic that something was happening again. 

The Washington Post is always full of stories and scary graphics of what would happen to the city if a terrorist released a dirty bomb on the city.

There were Anthrax scares, unfounded bomb threats called into office buildings and that poor farmer on his tractor in the middle of the National Mall making his protest. 

A year after 9/11, I worked with the firefighters who ran the first 10 days of the rescue and recovery efforts on the ground at the Pentagon. These are the people who had to pull out and tag the dead bodies. These are the men and women who had to evacuate the building while trying to put out the Pentagon fire -- TWICE, because folks like John Ashcroft wouldn't identify their planes and the fire fighters had way of knowing if it was a friendly plane or another one sent to crash into the building.

Huge military officers stood at the security checkpoint lines at Washington National Airport with giant guns to, I guess, instill a security "presence."

No one was allowed to stand up or go pee in the first 30 minutes of any flight from Washington National or the last 30 minutes of any flight going into Washington National.

On my first flight post 9-11, MacTroll and I went to Sanibel Island. They were still doing "random spot checks" at the gate. MacTroll and I both got pulled aside. The crack security team at the Fort Meyers, Florida, airport were made up of two senior citizens. And when I say senior I mean ages 70-plus. The gentleman who scanned MacTroll kept having his wand go off at MacTroll's hip, he had MacTroll's lift his shorts, but all that was there was skin. What a nice day to go commando, MacTroll! 

The woman who wanded me, kept having her tool beep at the center of my back. 

"What is this hard piece, dear?" 

"Um, that would be the three latches on my bra."

"Oooooh, of course!"

And every local and national news report about potential terrorist activity in D.C. had everyone living in the beltway cleaning Home Depot out of plastic wrap, duct tape and bottled water. The media also had you believe we were grabbing up gas masks for family, neighbors and pets. 

The whole place was riddled in fear... And 7 years later, I still sense that fear is spreading across the country like a wildfire consuming dry prairie. 

Do I find terrorism entertaining? Hell, no. Do I believe that we're safer now than we were 7 years ago from "imminent attacks" because we went to war, started a Homeland Security department and created a bunch of color-coated safety protocols. No. 

Do I want the world to be safe and at peace? Yes. Do I think that's possible? Not really. But I also think I'm much more likely to get robbed or shot at by "normal" people than I am to be a victim of global terrorism.

So, when I read that the Chicago Tribune released a story today that O'Hare is going to start using virtual strip search cameras as a security measure to prevent terrorism -- my blood pressure shot through the fucking roof.

The cameras can see everything, every flap of fat, breast tissue, where you've had surgeries, muscle definition... Here's the example photo they give at the Chicago Tribune. (I like that they picked someone with stomach muscle definition AND perky breasts.)

Now imagine your mother's body, your children's bodies, your body... 

Do I want the world to be a safe place to live. Yes. Do I think security measures like this are the way to go. No. 

I want to live in a free society. And part of that means, I'm willing to take some risks that there will always be cruel humans that insert pain and agony and terror into others. I think, however, that there really are more humans that are full of brilliant hope and thoughtfulness. 

But I really wonder sometimes that if we had kept living the way we were living before 9/11 without all the fear-induced reaction, if we wouldn't have ended up doing more to fight the idea of terrorism by refusing to change how we live out of fear of people who disagree with our free and democratic society. 

I guess the way I see it today is that the more we let the fear eat away at us, the more impact those that hate us will make on our country, on our way of life and on our children's lives. 

Can't there be more of a balance between learning how to be cautious and look out for one another during emergencies rather than just signing over our freedoms in fear that we'll lose our lives?

I mean, isn't that what all the military folks now and throughout history have put their lives on the line for? For us to have the freedoms guaranteed to us by the U.S. Constitution? And wouldn't they be horrified to know we just handed them back to our government blindly hoping that President Bush and Congress will save our skins?

I'm usually not very political on my blog. So, I apologize. And everyone with different views will have their comments, I know. But really, between this and the current state of affairs concerning air travel, why would anyone fly unless they had to?

I guess, I'm relieved that I only leave out of Willard or Bloomington these days. And it'll probably be a while before I have to go through major airport security that might have security precautions like O'hare. But we'll see... if Canadian airports start doing the same thing -- someone's gonna have to grit their teeth and get through seeing my naked body on the scanner. Cause trust me, after going through my pregnancy, my body looks and feels like it was a war zone.