Thursday, February 05, 2004

remember, killing people is against the law...

Class was short and sweet last night, but afterward was a rekindling of the last-nerve-abrasion-syndrome I seem to have lately.

On the way home, I stopped to get one of two expensive meds I have to take. My insurance company that is owned by the company I work for, has raised the Rx cost to include a $100 deductible at the beginning of the year and now only pays 60 percent of brand-name drugs. Well, lucky me, both drugs I have to take every freakin' day do not have a generic equivalent. So I pull up to the window, having paid my deductible, and ask for my script. "That will be $75." Instant headache. The moment money is tightest for us is the moment everything everywhere has doubled. Arrgggghhhh.

I got home, having cussed my insurance company the whole way, and hubby is not there, but there is a message on the machine. "I'm at the emergency room in room X." He had fallen and seriously bruised his ribs and nearly broke his wrist. Oh my God. Let me also throw in that I am at the very peak of PMS.

So, I got right back in my car, talking to myself the whole way like someone who has escaped the bowels of a turn-of-the-century institution and made my way to the hospital. Yup, there he was, white-faced and couldn't move without releasing a gutteral groan. I said half-jokingly, "I don't know whether to poke your eyes out or hug you." Dear gawd. The nurse brought his anti-imflammatory and pain-killer scripts and we proceed to check-out, where we pay our $100 co-pay. I go BACK to the drugstore, fill his scripts and throw him in a bath of epsom salts when I get home.

Heavens-to-mergatroids. I think I am going to ask for that happy shot when I get my cystoscopy done this afternoon. I need to be knocked out for an hour or two.


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