In which I roar

By Mir
May 12, 2005

Two months ago my ex and I sat in a small office with a specialist who described to us in excrutiating detail what sort of testing she thought Chickadee needed, and why, and how long it would take.

Oh, and how much it would cost.

My ex put on his best I’m-a-6-figure-earning-indigent face and told the doctor that if the insurance wouldn’t cover it, he couldn’t afford it. I said I would cover it, but the damage had been done–the doctor subsequently refused to even schedule Chickadee’s testing (despite the 3-month lag in getting an appointment) until we got the insurance approval.

I considered breaking all of the ex’s teeth. With my foot. But it seemed more prudent to allow him to handle the insurance stuff, instead.

Two. Months.

He made some phone calls. He gave me updates, when I asked for them. He would call the insurance; call the doctor’s office; call the ped; call the insurance again. Everyone blamed everyone else. He claimed he was working it all out. I tried to let it go and let him handle it.

But it’s been two months, and I’ve had enough. So I made a phone call this morning. Let me say that again: I made A (single) phone call this morning. And half an hour later, I had Chickadee booked for the testing. This month.

I did not yell, or rant, or cry. I did not raise my voice. I did not say, “Look, this has been a particularly difficult week, and I feel like I’m being run over right and left, and I just can’t take any more cases of things being so hard when they should be straightforward.” I did not talk about how this morning was perfectly ordinary but yesterday morning was a Very Bad Morning and Chickadee was inconsolable, and the only difference between the two mornings was… I have no idea.

I didn’t say any of these things, but I’m guessing my voice conveyed just the right amount of DO NOT FUCK WITH THE MOTHER LION WHO NEEDS ONLY ONE MORE PROBLEM TO PUSH HER OVER THE EDGE.

Sometimes, when you want something done properly, you just have to do it yourself. (And be a little unstrung, apparently.)

So I was completely triumphant about this for a while, until I realized that it meant that we’re going to have actual answers (for better or for worse) within about a month. And maybe those answers will be useful and helpful, or maybe they’ll just scare the crap out of all of us and not actually be solvable.

But then I remembered that–either way–it can’t be worse than the uncertainty.

And also that my ex screwed up and I was able to fix it and he KNEW he screwed up. Then I felt cheerful again.


  1. Twisty

    Woohoo! I bet that feels so good! Yay you!

  2. alektra

    You’re going forward. And no matter what, knowing will help, especially Chickadee. She’ll have the problems no matter what, but this is the fastest way to whatever solutions lay ahead.

    I’m keeping you and the kids in my prayers.

  3. Tiny Coconut

    Can I borrow you for just a day or two, please? Because I’m trying to schedule my son for what are probably very similar tests that will also result in Things I Don’t Want To Hear…and yet I could pretty much set my hair on fire and not get a response. And trust me…my middle name is Unstrung.

    In awe of you,

  4. melissaS

    Knowing is always better than not knowing.

    I’ll be thinking of you.

  5. carson

    Having been through some testing that gave us some unhappy answers (but some really neat ones at the same time) I’ve realized that the biggest benefit that the testing gives is being able to talk to other parents who have gone through similar things, and my frustrating unhappy brilliant daughter isn’t the first child on the planet to be frustrating/unhappy/brilliant. Or the only one. That’s nice, because then I get to know that it isn’t my fault.

    Good luck, and I still want you to be my mommy.

  6. Psycho Kitty

    Praying for y’all and thoroughly believing that it will all be okay, no matter what the answer turns out to be. And good for you kicking some insurance ass!

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