The Plague

I've been rather sick the past 12 days with the "lab plague", which started as a cold, added on pinkeye picked up from a labmate (quick! decontaminate the microscope eyepiece!), and has settled in my lungs as a nice case of pneumonia.  I've been on antibiotics (both eyedrops and oral) for several days now, so fortunately the pinkeye is clearing up, and with the help of an inhaler, I can almost breathe without feeling like I am being stabbed in the chest (of course, courtesy of the antibiotics, I now feel like I'm being stabbed in the stomach... six of one, half dozen of the other).

I've been in and out of the lab, trying to balance healing with productivity, in hopes that resting up will kick this plague once and for all so I can head up to Boston later this week for some time in the city and spending Yom Kippur with family and friends.  Husband is in the middle of his fellowship interviews, and since there seems to be a good chance he will wind up in Boston, I am tagging along to confirm that I'd be willing to head to Boston for the next stage of my life if when I graduate.

My statcounter tells me that there are a number of individuals in the greater Boston area who read my blog, so send me your recommendations!  I've been to Boston several times before, but Husband has only been for medical school and residency (and now fellowship) interviews, so what should we do?  Send me your favorite things to do and restaurant recommendations, por favor!  Any particularly great neighborhoods to check out should I be moving in that general direction (looking for a nice balance of somewhere in walking distance to things we need, bars, restaurants, etc., but not filled with noisy undergrads)?  We'll be staying a few blocks away from Mass General, so extra bonus points for things within walking distance that I can do on my own during Husband's interviews... provided I am not still stuck in bed feeling like death.

Recipe Ideas

It’s time for me to turn the tables a bit and ask all of you for a little recipe help.

You see, my mother-in-law is on chemotherapy for breast cancer and is currently neutropenic. For the non-biology types, neutropenia is characterized by super low white blood cells, which makes you particularly susceptible to infections. As a result, my MIL is no longer allowed to go to work (she works in a hospital setting where germs run rampant), eat any raw fruits or vegetables, have flowers in the house, etc., because all of these can increase your exposure to various bacteria. But the real kicker for her – she can no longer order takeout. For someone who exists mostly on takeout, this is a very, very big change.

To help her out, I’m planning on cooking as many frozen dinners to send to her as my tiny freezer space will allow. I never cook ahead of time and freeze food for myself, so this is a pretty foreign operation for me. I’d love your tried-and-true freezer meals, since Googling is a bit overwhelming, and some people say things like “I think this will freeze!” but I’m looking for actual confirmation, since I’m sending these off to my MIL and not just keeping them for myself!

Specifically, I’m looking for recipes that are:

1) Easy. She’s going to be on chemo for at least 4 more months, followed by several months of radiation, so I’d like to prepare as many meals as possible.

2) Foolproof when it comes to meat. Since I don’t consume meat myself, I don’t have a ton of experience cooking with it. I want recipes where I don’t have to worry about undercooking the chicken and accidentally killing off my MIL – in other words, whole roasted chicken? Bad. Casserole with cubed chicken that is cooked to the point of no possible rawness? Good.

3) Minimal preparation after thawing. Thawing sauce on the side and pouring it on top is fine, but nothing that requires preparing rice or noodles separately. On days she is feeling her worst, I want her to just take it out of the freezer, put it in the oven, and walk away.

Since I know tastes and preferences can change during chemo, I plan on gathering as many recipes as possible and sending her a list, so she can pick what sounds most appealing to her right now. Any links to recipes you have tried that freeze well would be greatly, greatly appreciated! So far, I'm planning on making a vegetable lasagna, stuffed shells, and portobello black bean enchiladas.


This also seems an appropriate time to do a quick plug for my best friend from high school, Shannon, who is walking 60 miles this fall for breast cancer. In addition to working full time as a behavioral therapist in a school for autistic children and pursuing a masters’ in clinical psychology, Shannon makes jewelry as a hobby and sells it on Etsy. Currently, 100% of the proceeds from her jewelry sales are going towards fundraising for her walk for breast cancer. Check it out – maybe you’ll find a piece you love and will support a great cause at the same time! (I wear lots of Shannon-made originals, and get compliments on them all the time!)

Broken Heart

My grandfather just had a heart attack. Well, correction, my grandfather had a heart attack nearly 48 hours ago, but for reasons which I will refrain from ranting about now, no one bothered to tell me until 30 minutes ago. So really, I just learned that my grandfather had a heart attack.

My grandfather is 90 years old, and in better shape than most people I know my own age. He lives along a golf course and walks the entire length every day, collecting lost golf balls for my father. He uses the cardio equipment in his retirement home. He walks to the grocery store instead of driving. He makes very healthy food decisions, is not a smoker, and only drinks on occasion. He is in such great shape, the past two times he has had surgery, his recovery has taken less than a third of the time he was told it would take, to the shock and amazement of his surgeons. My grandfather has always been indestructible, and at his last physical, was told that he should easily live to be well over 100.

My grandfather just had a heart attack. He isn't a candidate for stents and the surgeon thinks he is too old to undergo bypass. He was essentially told today that his heart is a ticking time bomb -- they can't predict when, but he'll have a massive heart attack and drop dead.

And do you know what he said in response? That all he wants is to live one day longer than his wife, so she never has to be alone for a single day.

I think my mean old heart of coal just broke in two.

My grandfather, brightening my world since 1983.

Mourning

I intended to (finally) write about my recent vacation (escape from the lab! woo!) this evening, but instead managed to find a secret streaming internet station showing the Steelers game.

The game in which the Steelers kissed their season goodbye.  Bye bye, defending Superbowl champions.

Clearly, I am now too depressed and mopey to think about things like vacation pictures.  Instead, I am going to look at the pictures my parents took of the six Lombardi trophies they saw on display when they were at Heinz Field for the Pitt homecoming game and try to make myself feel better.

As for the vacation pictures?  Maybe I’ll be feeling it tomorrow.  Or maybe I’ll still be mourning the fact that three days before my mega-Chrismukkah party, with all the food preparation to do, my no-longer-produced size built-in microwave started sparking and filled with smoke.  Perfect timing.  Or the fact that my foot, which had been healing well, suddenly started bleeding all over this evening.  I think I may have accidentally ripped out one of the deeper stitches.

FML.

I think this calls for sleeping in tomorrow.  Don’t tell my PI.

Quarantined

My extended absence can be summed up with two words: swine flu.  Those of you who follow me on Twitter caught the real-time play-by-play of my past two weeks: the 104+ fever, the aches, the chills followed by sweating like a pig (very appropriate for the swine flu), the coughing, the vomiting, the vomiting, the even more vomiting, and finally, the very slow road to recovery which started on Friday.I have spent the past two weeks stuck on the couch (aside from two Tuesday’s ago, when I had to go into lab, and this past Monday, when I spent Yom Kippur not in synagogue, but at the doctor’s office discovering that my flu turned into secondary pneumonia), too tired, worn out, and miserable to do anything aside from follow Twitter from my iPhone.  I am totally behind on e-mails, all but my very favorite blogs, the 2043 papers my PI sent to me telling me to read immediately to discuss upon my return (sorry Boss, but I have not looked at a single one), and apparently the drastic change in seasons – before I fell ill, it was warm and summery; rumor has it that it is now in the 60s and the leaves are already starting to change color.

I will be making my triumphant return to society this week (I am only feeling about 50% right now, but I am pretty sure if I don’t show up in lab meeting first thing Monday morning, my PI will drag me off the couch kicking and screaming) and slowly returning to the blogiverse.  Don’t worry, I’ll wash my hands well before leaving comments on any of your blogs.

Where everybody knows your name…

For some people, it’s a bar.  For me, apparently it’s the Department of Physical Therapy.

As you may recall, I had a somewhat large-ish billing disaster with physical therapy which resulted in a $4500 bill sent to me.  I finally received word that the problem was in the final stage of resolution (I’ll believe it when I see it), and, in the meantime, my insurance company had cleared me to continue with more physical therapy.  So, I went ahead and scheduled my appointment, and today was my first day back.

I was barely the full way through the door to the PT department when the office staff literally stopped what they were doing – ignored the people they were helping, paused mid-conversation on the phone – and from all sides of the reception desks, all I heard were greetings in surround-sound.  “Julie! You’re back!”  “I couldn’t wait to see you when I saw your name on the appointment list!”  “Heeey girlfriend, it is so good to see you!” “Oh, Julie, you come right over here and I’ll take care of all your paperwork to get everything in order again” (much to the dismay of people already waiting in line).  It’s like I’m a minor celebrity in the world of University Hospital physical therapy.

I mean, it makes sense.  Most people who are sent for PT go for 8 weeks or so pre- or post-surgery.  They’re in and out, and it’s a constant turnover of patients.  The type of therapy I go for is different – much more long term – but most of my therapist’s patients even still seem to be in and out in 5-6 months.  I started up last March, and have no signs of being anywhere near finished.  I’m here to stay.  So for someone to show up, week after week, for over a year – that’s a rarity. 

Look, don’t get me wrong.  It’s nice to be known and missed.  It gives you that warm, fuzzy feeling.  But when the place where everybody knows your name is the physical therapy department… well… perhaps it’s a sign that you need to get out more.

Or maybe that you’re just a bit too broken beyond repair.

Hospital Billing Blows

I have many other things about which I have been meaning to write, but seeing as how I had to take an entire afternoon off of the lab to return home, call insurance companies, and fight while pacing back and forth throughout my tiny little condo... I need to rant.

We all know how much I absolutely loath UnitedHeathcare. It sucks a huge, fat ass, and ever since our university switched to UHC, I've spent countless hours arguing with them. But, since I live in Washington, D.C., where the cost of housing is equal to two arms, a leg, and the promise of my first-born, UHC it was. My stipend barely covers my rent, utilities, and food... so going out and getting better healthcare other than what my program provides for free was not an option.

Then, I got married... and on June 16, 2008, my husband started his first day as a real, working doctor. This excitedly meant that he had better healthcare options, and I could tag along for a much smaller fee than me trying to pursue other healthcare options on my own! So now, we pay a bit over $200/month for each of us to have really good insurance.

While the competency of my insurance has increased.... the competency of those in billing has drastically decreased. See, because of a problem since birth that should have been surgically corrected but the orthopedic surgeon thought could fix itself, I've been in physical therapy since March, and will probably be going for many years to come. Insurance Problem #1 comes with the timing of switching from UHC to Husband's BlueCross. While he started working in June, he had to complete tons of paperwork, wait for the results of his drug test to come back, and wait until Jupiter was properly aligned with Mars before we received our shiny, new, better insurance cards. As such, we didn't receive them until August. Come August, I happy handed over my new card to billing for my PT and asked them to switch me over for future appointments. Future appointments, as in, from that day forward.

As case would have it, the billing department stacks up appointments in groups, and bills all at once. So while I did not have a card or a group number or any possible way to use my BlueCross insurance until August, I happened to catch them at the end of the cycle.... and 6 of my previous visits, from June and July, were all billed to BlueCross, without my knowledge. Following 10 appointments, in order for insurance to continue paying, the physical therapist needs to call up and state why more appointments are necessary. You see where this is going, right? If 6 visits were billed to my new insurance, and I wasn't aware of this, because they weren't SUPPOSED to be billed.... then I hit that 10-visit limit a month and a half earlier than anticipated. And not knowing this, I kept going. Until I received a $4,500 bill in the mail for the PT claim that was denied by my insurance. And of course, since this fell in the previous year for the UHC insurance, they do not want to pay for those 6 visits for which they should have paid in the first place. Despite hours upon hours upon hours of calling, nothing seems to be resolved, and in the meantime, the hospital is threatening to send bill collectors for the $4,500 that I don't actually owe because billing fucked up and not me, and I've had to discontinue my PT until it is all resolved.

Then, last week, Insurance Problem #2 arose. One of my previous migraine medications caused drastic changes to my vision, and as it has been known to cause glaucoma and blindness, my doctor send me off to ophthalmology to check the pressure in my eyes and a thorough exam of my eye structure. Upon arriving, I had to fill out the requisite paperwork, all about my medical history, and to update my insurance information. As in, I sat there and wrote on a piece of paper that I have BlueCross. Then, I handed over my insurance card to the receptionist, where she scanned in said BlueCross card. I know it was the BlueCross card, because I don't even carry my UnitedHealthcare card with me, as I have zero intentions to use it as primary insurance.

Imagine my surprise, then, when I receive a bill in the mail for $206.00 for my ophthalmology visit. So, this afternoon, on my designated insurance fighting day, I called up billing at the hospital to ask why I was sent a bill, rather than my insurance company. At which point, I was told that UHC paid for half, and I was responsible for the other half. As in, despite the fact that I filled out the form and handed over my BlueCross card, they still decided to bill the insurance company that was listed on record from my last MRI in February. WHAT IS THE POINT OF FILLING OUT INSURANCE INFORMATION IF THEY'RE NOT EVEN GOING TO LOOK AT IT?!?! Give me a freaking break.

I was planning on going back to lab this afternoon, but having spent the past 4 hours on the phone fighting, I'm just too exhausted. And in the meantime, I need to switch my migraine medication back to what I was on previously (got the all-clear from the ophthalmologist) because I've had 5 migraines in 6 weeks with what I am on now... but I'm terrified that if I go to my doctor and see him for all of 5 minutes just to ask for a script, I'm going to be billed $150 for my non-examination.

Too bad my husband is too darn ethical to write the script on my behalf. I mean, honestly, what's the point of marrying a doctor if you can't get a script slipped to you now and then??

101 in 1001

I first read about the 1001 Days Project on Sherry's blog. The idea is simple -- come up with a list of 101 things you want to accomplish in 1001 days (roughly 2.75 years). I intended to start my list on my 25th birthday, but things were busy and hectic in June, and my list was stuck around 50. Time passed, and I forgot about it altogether... and last night, at a New Year's party, discussions of resolutions reminded me about the list. So while in lab today, I finished it up, and I'm officially starting today.


I'm bending the rules a bit -- not all of my tasks have a result that is clearly measurable for success. I'm not looking to do things short term (i.e., drink 8 glasses of water everyday for 2 months), but rather to do things frequently enough that by the time the 1001 days rolls around, they have become part of my daily routine and are normal for me. But hey, this is my list for myself, so I'm going to do it how I please.

I'll update on this page as tasks are completed -- follow along with my success [link on blog navigation bar].

Between January 1, 2009 and September 29, 2011, I will...

Professional:

1. Learn to love science again.
2. Write up experiment protocols and results for each experiment within 48 hours of completion.
3. Attend seminars on a regular basis (even if it means working 15 hour days to fit seminars around experiments).
4. Do an out-of-the-box, crazy experiment -- logical experiments aren't working, so maybe something crazy will!
   
5. Present a poster at a conference.
6. Submit a paper as a first author and have paper accepted.
7. Clean chemical bench every Friday.
8. Successfully defend thesis -- become Disgruntled Julie, Ph.D.
9. Regardless of when I defend, return to D.C. for graduation ceremonies.
   
10. Figure out what I want to do post-graduate school.
11. Find a job in desired field in Philadelphia area.
    
    Relationships:
    
12. Host a girls' night once a year.
13. Host a Game-a-thon.
14. Host a Dessert-a-thon.
15. Host an old-fashioned sleepover.
    
16. Mail a card or letter to a friend once a month.
17. Learn how to make the most of a long-distance marriage.
    
18. [personal]
    
    Growing Up:
    
19. Remake larger wedding album.
    
20. Move to Philadelphia to live with Husband.
21. Buy a house or condo.
22. Buy/lease/inherit (from Husband) a car if we are not living in a public transportation friendly neighborhood.
23. Find a synagogue we like and become members.
24. Actually drag Husband to services at said synagogue.
    
25. Establish long-term primary care physician in Philadelphia.
26. Make new friends in Philadelphia, but...
27. Keep in touch with old friends and visit as often as possible.
    
28. Purchase remaining items from our wedding registry.
29. Apply for passport with hyphenated last name.
30. Sign up for life insurance with Husband.
31. Draft a living will.
    
    Financial:
    
32. Take spare change to bank.
33. Transfer money to ING savings account on the first of each month.
34. Continue to track all finances in Microsoft Money, and make a better effort to stick to my budget.
    
35. Increase savings account by $10,000.
36. Pay off interest each month on Husband's medical school loans.
37. Have at least 15 "no spend" days per month -- spend absolutely no money at all.
    
    Domestication:
    
38. Bake the perfect challah.
39. Bake the perfect cherry pie.
    
40. Host major holiday dinner at our new abode in Philadelphia.
41. Host a formal dinner party (for no specific reason).
42. Take a cake decorating class.
43. Shampoo carpets in current condo.
44. Send cookie packages to soldiers through Operation Baking GALS.
45. Create a cookbook with favorite recipes.
46. Cook something different each night for a month.
    
    Crafting:
    
47. Use up yarn in stash.
48. Open Etsy shop.
49. Sell something from Etsy shop.
50. Learn to needlepoint.
51. Master knitting in the round.
52. Make blanket for Project Linus.
53. Make blanket for Spirit Jump (and hopefully make a new friend in the process).
    
54. Learn how to quilt.
55. Knit or crochet something for myself -- I've given away everything I've ever made to other people.
56. Hand make holiday cards and send to family and friends every year.
    
57. Create yearly photo books.
    
    Organizing:
58. Clean out closet and donate old clothes.
59. Organize bathroom storage under sink.
60. Organize recipes in Evernote.
61. Print copy of all recipes on recipe cards and store in binders (less potential for disaster than dragging laptop to kitchen every time I cook something new).
    
62. Organize magazines -- scan in articles of interest and recycle remaining magazines.
63. Organize bills from past year.
64. Organize health care paperwork from past year.
65. Organize bank statements.
66. Collect all old cards and mail to St. Jude's Ranch for Children Card Recycling Program.
    
    Health, Fitness, and Appearance:
    
67. Drink 8 glasses of water per day.
68. Floss every day, not just when I have extra time.
69. Take vitamins appropriately -- i.e., split up calcium pills morning and night, not both at the same time.
70. Find a weekday when I can return "home" to central PA to see my family dentist.
    
71. Lose 20 pounds.
72. Work out three times per week.
73. Track what I eat every day.
74. Do not eat after 8pm on weekdays.
    
75. Complete Couch to 5K program.
76. Stretch daily -- make physical therapist proud!
77. [personal]
    
78. Develop a skin care routine to ward off wrinkles.
79. Get over fear of dying hair, and cover up all the incoming grey hairs rather than pluck them until I am bald.
80. Get a fantastic haircut.
81. Donate blood.
    
    Hobbies & Skills:
    
82. Start playing piano again.
83. Complete Project 365.
84. Blog at least once per week.
85. Take a photography course.
86. Learn and feel comfortable using all features on my current dSLR camera.
    
87. Read 100 books.
88. Win my fantasy football league.
    
89. Take golf lessons.
90. Go scuba diving and pursue further advanced certification.
91. Go skiing with my father.
    
92. Learn conversational Hebrew.
93. Re-read the Tanakh, cover-to-cover, in order, on my own time.
    
94. Attend Screen on the Green and picnic with friends.
95. Eat at 15 new restaurants.
    
96. Re-learn how to parallel park -- haven't owned a car in seven years!
97. Back up computer every 2 weeks.
98. Take a real vacation with just Husband to someplace wonderful.
99. Take a family cruise with our parents.
100. Go camping.
     
     
101. Be happy with who I am and the direction my life has taken.
     

Lab Plague, Part II

Today, my lab took off for the annual lab hike at Old Rag in the Shenendoah Valley. It's a gorgeous hike, and today is a lovely fall day, so I'm sure the lab is quite enjoying themselves. I, however, am not in attendance.

For starters, I probably would have opted out of going this year to begin with, because there's a 1.5ish mile long rock scramble, and my back has been bothering me lately. And considering that it seems like I'll likely be in physical therapy for the rest of my life, and I really aggravated my back doing some hiking and climbing on my honeymoon, doing a 7 mile hike/rock scramble while it's already bothering me doesn't seem like a great idea.

But then there's the issue of being sick. See, the Lab Plague has moved south, and settled into my chest. You know, the deep, phlegm-in-the-lungs coughing, hacking, and wheezing that makes it sound like you're going to drop dead any moment. The constant feeling like you're going to drown in your own mucus, because a giant glob is stuck in the back of your throat, and you're neither able to cough it up, nor swallow it down, and it's just stuck there, in the way.

And yet, despite the fact that I feel (and look) like complete shit, my PI spent the morning yesterday convincing me that I should go on this hike. That I would be totally find. Until, partway through me telling him that there was no way I was up to it, I started coughing. And coughing. And couldn't stop. And slowly, my PI backed out of the lab, index fingers crossed pointed towards me, warding off my germs, and told me to get the hell out of the lab, because when I drop dead, he didn't want it to be in the laboratory (liability issues, I guess).

And so, this morning, I went into lab early to take care of what I needed to do, and then promptly left (because who is going to know that I took the rest of the day off when everyone else is off hiking?), came home, and have spent the rest of the afternoon sprawled out on the couch with a piping-hot mug of tea and my latest knitting project. And a giant lump of mucus in my throat.

Really, and almost lovely afternoon indeed. And my barely-able-to-breath lungs appreciate it much more than the lab hike, even if I am sad to have to miss out on the hiking opportunity once again.

The Plague

I thought I was safe. I thought, for once, I had escaped unscathed. Unharmed. Untouched.
And then, I woke up yesterday morning, unable to breathe. The [name of PI] Lab Plague had officially struck.

This happens, every fall, and then again around February. Someone brings in some unidentifiable flu-like disease. This is no normal cold -- it comes with a fever, and aches, and seriously knocks you down, but it's not the flu -- it's the Lab Plague. And it spreads like wildfire throughout our lab, and only our lab. Pretty much the entire lab, aside from yours truly and the two PIs were out sick the beginning and middle of last week. But since I now sit far, far away from everyone else -- alas, I have an entirely different room number than everyone else -- I thought, perhaps, I would be safe.

Despite my circular dichroism disaster, requiring me to work in the lab for 37.5 consecutive hours, I was feeling fine. Somehow, despite my lack of sleep, my immune system was doing its job! The plague-carriers had taken their sick days off, returned to the lab healthy, and I was still feeling fine. I made it through the weekend completely unsick, and thought I was in the clear.

And then, on Monday morning, I woke up. With a stuffy nose. I tried to convince myself it was just allergies. It would go away. And by 1pm, I was completely unable to breathe, and had developed a fever. By 3pm, I was back home, on the couch, with a headache. And by 9pm, I had been kicked out of my own bed, by a husband, fearful of the plague, forced to sleep on the couch, dreaming of upgrading to a two-bedroom condo, complete with a guest room.

Today, I have not even managed to change out of my pajamas, or even move off the couch, except to make myself a cup of tea (with my brand-new, kiwi green, Le Creuset, whistling teakettle, a wedding present). The floor around me is covered with dozens of used tissues, I'm drinking boiling hot tea, wrapped in a fleece blanket, sniffling, unable to breathe -- and the most bizarre part of it all? Washington, D.C. is in the middle of a heat wave. I have our standard winter Lab Plague, and it is 86 degrees outside. If it didn't require so much energy, I'd go put on shorts, and lie on our patio in the lounge chair and try to bake the plague out of me.

But instead, I used my sick day for some blog maintenance. Finally updated the header to reflect the fact that I am, indeed, now a fourth year grad student, and updated my blog links. If I forgot you -- my apologies -- I'm clearly not thinking well right now. Please, drop me a comment or an email if you belong on my blogroll, and I'll add you ASAP!

But despite the fact that I feel like utter shit, and have zero interest in consuming anything other than the pounds of post-nasal drip falling down the back of my throat, my charming husband just asked me what would be for dinner tonight. Because although the man may be capable of saving lives as a doctor, he is utterly unable to survive on his own or even make grilled cheese. Which means that even though I clearly won't be eating, he feels it is my responsibility as his wife to still cook him dinner. Apparently that whole "in sickness and in health" thing means not that he will take care of me when I am sick, but that regardless of how sick I am... it's still my responsibility to take care of him. Lucky bastard.

Migraine Misery

Disgruntled Julie is very disgruntled this morning, indeed. You see, at some absurdly early hour, Disgruntled Julie was awoken from her nice cozy, rare state of hibernation with a searing, blinding headache -- a migraine. This is disgruntling enough on a normal day, but particularly so as Disgruntled Julie has just recently become aware of the effects of which her daily migraine medications are taking on her daily life -- AND THEN SHE GOES AND GETS A DAMN MIGRAINE. Fine, the constant tingling in the feet range from mildly annoying to "OMGIAMGOINGTOCUTMYFEETOFF" and the fact that my vision has gone from perfect and never needed glasses to squinting to try to see anything is a wee bit frustrating, but the memory loss, depression, somnolence, and ability to ONLY spell words phonetically (which I had always been able to spell perfectly fine up until a few months ago) seem to be a rather steep price to pay to STILL BE GETTING MIGRAINES. Yes, yes, I know, the point is that I now get them every other month or so, rather than every other week, and it is an improvement, but on my prior migraine medication I didn't get them at all! And the only side effect was that I gained 35 pounds in 3 months! I still stand by the fact that I'd rather wind up 400 pounds and migraine and other side-effect free, but alas, my doctor begs to differ that it is best for my overall health to not resemble a small whale.

And thus, this morning, I dragged myself out of bed, blindly tripped my way into the bathroom (have I mentioned that I get vision loss with my migraines? awesome!), found my Midrin, and begin the one-an-hour pill-popping procedure. By 8:30, I acknowledged that I was not going to be functional enough to make it to lab meeting, so I sent an e-mail off to my PI telling him as such, and crawled back to bed. With the pain, of course, I couldn't sleep, but laying there in the dark sure beat sitting through a lab meeting and having to pretend to be a human. But next thing I know (admittedly, a few hours later, but before the pain relief had kicked in and before I'm ready to face the day) -- the fire alarm for the entire condo building goes off. Because that is JUST WHAT YOU NEED during a migraine -- nice, loud bells and some super bright flashing lights, to boot. Can't a girl get a break around here? A nice, dark sanctuary to wait out her misery in peace? I mean, seriously. DAMN YOU ALL! And thus, not knowing if it was some kind of test or an actual fire, after contemplating burning to a crisp but deciding I couldn't handle the 20 minutes until they turned off the alarms, I speed dressed and worked my way down to the lab, where I can sit in misery slumped over my desk, and wait in an upright position with all the lights on for the Midrin to kick in. And the first person to ask with any sort of assistance with an experiment is getting a nice middle finger aimed in their direction, and some words to match. But please forgive me.... after all, it's not me.... it's the bitchiness from my fantastically working preventative migraine medication talking.

Back to Bed

@*%#$@$%^&!!!!! basically sums up my morning thus far.

The past two days, I've been sidelined with a miserable migraine. The vomiting, loss-of-vision, bang-your-head-against-the-wall variety. Today, I finally dragged myself out of bed and into lab because I know my proteins have a very short shelf life, and I need to get an IP done before one or the other degraded. I figured maybe my reward would finally be getting something to work.

As I sit here, miserable, pounding headache, dizzy from the Midrin, not quite seeing straight, I was feeling comfortable with the labwork -- I've done IP's a million times to the point that I can do them in my sleep (quite literally -- I've been dreaming about them quite a bit lately). And since these proteins degrade within a 5-6 day span, this needed to be done. So, here I am.

But just now, I realize, that like a COMPLETE $*#@ing non-competent moron, rather than an ammonium sulfate precipitation, I apparently attempted to precipitate my proteins with ammonium PERSULFATE this morning.

I drag myself out of bed with a migraine to try and complete an experiment to please my PI, and wind up wasting all the protein I have. Screw this. I am never getting out of bed again.

F*CK YOU, United Healthcare

There is not a word in the dictionary strong enough to express my current feelings towards United Healthcare. Loathe? Abhor? Despise with the burning heat of a thousand suns? Nope, all are far too kind for my asstastic student health insurance. We used to have fairly crappy health insurance through another provider, but at least I could get basic coverage. Then we switched in July to United, and it has made my life hell. We recently got to fill out a survey on our thoughts on United Healthcare. It asked me to rank everything on a scale of 1 to 10, 1 being least satisfied and 10 being most satisfied. I left the entire survey blank and in the comments section said that the scale would need to go into negative numbers to express my thoughts, and then proceeded to write twelve (12) paragraphs as to why United Healthcare sucks so goddamn much.

Nevermind all the things they won't pay for. Let's forget that they still refuse to pay for the MRI I had a few months ago because the neurologist thought a few of my symptoms could be caused by a brain tumor and they wanted to check that out. Brain tumor, schmain tumor. Why should I expect my healthcare to pay for that? Nah, I'll cover that $5,000+ out of pocket, my pleasure. Let's ignore that they declined to pay for my routine OB/GYN appointment. Pap smear, schmap smear. No, let's focus on why I am lunatic-level raving mad at them right now.

Several weeks ago, I started physical therapy for a problem that's been going on for quite awhile (my whole life, apparently). I had been seen by student health for a year and a half, and after poking and proding and making me feel like a freak show, they finally shrugged their shoulders, gave up, and gave me the golden ticket referral to see a doctor with actual (gasp) specialization in the hospital. So, I called to make my appointment, waited the 3 months, and saw the doctor. She looked over my history, poked around a bit, and recommended physical therapy, with one specific physical therapist at the hospital, and wrote out the referral.

I called the Physical Therapy and Rehabilitation Medicine department and was (of course) told that said specific physical therapist was not currently taking new patients, and I would have to call back in a month and try again. Fine. Call back in a month, weasel my way into an appointment (there may have been some fake sobbing over the phone to get said appointment), go BACK to the referring doctor to get a new referral because original referral was over 30 days old and hence totally void. I go to the first appointment and discover that what I thought was a totally separate issue is actually all connected -- remember how I hurt my back and was stuck on the floor for a week? All connected to a hip problem I had since birth, that should have been fixed with surgery (but obviously was not) and now means I'll need years of PT. Awesome.

Anyway, when I go back for my 2nd physical therapy appointment, I find out that my insurance requires not just the referral from the doctor, but also a referral from student health. Student health referring me to the doctor who referred me to physical therapy was obviously not enough. I'll spare the drawn out details, but it involved 2 weeks of my time, begging, pleading, and maybe some real sobbing over the phone and in person to finally get some doctor to get sick of me showing up twice a day every day, and just write me the damn referral. Ah-ha, I thought -- victory is mine!

Then, I come to find out that asstastic insurance will pay for 6 weeks of physical therapy, 2x per week. While that's great if you just had knee surgery, my particular problem has absolutely no benefit (and actually, more potential harm) to going to multiple sessions per week. What I need is to go once a week for a longer period of time. But, of course, insurance will not pay for twelve total sessions. No, they will only pay for 2x/week for 6 weeks. Nevermind that I kept insisting that (6 sessions) x (2 per week) = 12 sessions, and (12 sessions) x (1 per week) = 12 sessions. Nope, I was using that fuzzy math that makes no sense, and had to petition.

Fine, petition sent. After several hours spent on the phone with the Student Health Insurance Office, I get word that United isn't budging. I ask about my other options -- how long do I have to wait before going back to physical therapy, should the problem persist (which it obviously will, as I am 5 weeks into my 6 allotted weeks, and we have come nowhere near to even starting to fix said problem). I am told that this is it for the physical therapy, unless I have surgery, in which case the health insurance will pay for 80% of the surgery and 6 more weeks of physical therapy.

Wait. HOLD UP. What was that? In order to get them to pay for more physical therapy, I need to have SURGERY first? Does anyone else find this completely counterproductive? I could have 6 more physical therapy sessions, which mind you does not them anymore than the person going 2x's per week since I am only going once, or instead, I can have SURGERY? Do they not realize that option #2 is OBSCENELY more expensive? Because we're not talking about some laproscopic on-your-way-in-two-hours type surgery. Oh no, this would be major not-leaving-the-hospital-for-a-week variety surgery. And this is MORE COST PRODUCTIVE than allowing me the SAME NUMBER of physical therapy sessions as other patients, just spread out longer? WHAT THE FUCK?!?

This sounds exactly like the same logic that was cited when the new health insurance decided to not cover any birth control prescriptions at all. Look, I get it. I go to a religious university. Just because I'm a totally different religion does not mean that I don't respect the school's decision that birth control is the devil and they're not going to hand it out to college freshmen. But HELLO, I have the ultrasound which shows the BIG CYSTS in my ovaries that are WAITING TO BURST and you are telling me it is a better plan for me to let them burst and wind up in the ER because of it than to provide me with some birth control? It's not even going to function as birth control because right now, I couldn't even get pregnant if I wanted to! But nevermind that, it's a better option for me to wind up in the hospital than to pay the $100/year they would be paying for birth control.

AAAAAAAAAAAAARGH. Reason #7452 why I should have just gotten a REAL JOB instead of going to graduate school. My friends all have REAL INSURANCE that pays for REAL PROCEDURES when necessary. Screw this crap. Send the bill collection agencies after me for my MRI fees, I don't even care anymore.

"Help! I've fallen and I can't get up!"

The past 24 hours have been the most unbearable, excruciating 24 hours that I can recall in my entire life. Yesterday morning, while jumping around wildly swinging a shoe attempting to kill a centipede on my ceiling, I managed to pull a muscle wrapped around a nerve in my lower back. I have never experienced such intense pain in my life – immediately as it happened, I crumpled to the ground, writing and screaming in pain. A day later, I am still unable to get off the floor, stuck in the middle of my living room lying on my back, staring at the ceiling and wishing it would just cave in on me and put me out of my misery. I am completely unable to sit up, get my knees under me, stand, move to the couch, or do anything which one is required to do in daily life. Since my fiancé is currently in Philadelphia on an away rotation, I am stuck here on my own. Thankfully, a friend of mine came over yesterday to fetch the Aleve that was in the bathroom cabinet, totally out of my reach, and bring the heating pad, a few blankets, a pillow, my laptop, the remote for the TV, etc., so that I at least don’t die of boredom while I lie here and wait to atrophy. It took me 2 hours just to wiggle on my elbows from the living room to the front door, and to stretch up in excruciating pain to unlock the door to let her in (mind you, I live in a 750 square foot 1 bedroom apartment, so it is about 15 steps from the living room to the front door). Now, on top of everything else, I have such bad rug burn on my elbows, that they are bleeding all over the white carpet every time I try to move!

I am certain it is just a pulled muscle and nothing more serious, as I have complete function in my legs and no numbness whatsoever, just one hell of a pain in my lower back whenever my back moves (and half the time still when it is totally still). Because nearly overdosing on Aleve has done nothing but start to give me an ulcer, my fiancé suggested that I contact student health and see if they would prescribe something over the phone and then I could find a friend to pick up the prescription for me.

As we all know, I loathe student health. I have yet to make it through a visit without being forced to pee in a cup, despite the fact that half my visits to student health are because of problems with ovarian cysts and I couldn’t get pregnant now even if I wanted to do so. I am quite sure that if I make it in for a visit today, they will assume that my back pain is related to pregnancy and send me on my merry way with a bottle of folic acid vitamins.

Last night, I sucked it up and called the student health doctor-on-call pager number. Seven times later, I still hadn’t received a call back. I attempted to sleep on my back, but every time I would try to roll over, I woke up with unbearable pain shooting through my back. As soon as student health opened, I called and asked for a doctor to call me back. This is the conversation that resulted:

Nurse Practitioner: What seems to be the problem?
Julie: I pulled a muscle in my back, and I am incapable of sitting up or moving. I have been
laying on the floor since yesterday morning.
NP: And you are by yourself? You poor thing! You need to get up and walk around to help the
pain.
J: I CAN’T get up. I can’t even sit up. If I try, I get a muscle spasm that pulls me right back
down and leaves me with intense pain.
NP: You need to come in for an appointment, how about 1pm today?
J: I can’t move. I can’t get to student health.
NP: Take a taxi.
J: I can’t move. I can’t get to a taxi.
NP: Just pull your knees under you and stand.
J, attempting: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAH
NP: Oh dear. You need to come in for an appointment.
J: I am not currently capable. Maybe I will feel better in a few days and I can make it in then.
NP: No, you should come in sooner.
J: The only way I can leave this apartment is on a stretcher.
NP: No, you don’t want to call for an ambulance. If it is just a pulled muscle, the hospital will
take X-rays, not find anything, and send you home. You just need to come to student health
for an evaluation and we can prescribe you pain medicine. I will see you at 1pm.

Needless to say, there is no way I am going to be able to make it out of the apartment by 1pm, considering it took me over an hour this morning just to put on a clean pair of underwear (don’t laugh until you try it, laying on your back, unable to lift your shoulders forward so you can’t use your arms, and can barely move your legs). The only foreseeable way I see of escaping my prison of an apartment is by duct taping myself to a skateboard and pulling myself forward with m arms. Anyone have a skateboard I can borrow for the morning?!