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So first the BAD NEWS: that camera that went for a walk around my bladder?
Not covered by my insurance.
Now, now, you just have to trust me on this. I know you are lively and smart and outraged and I love that about you. But it is true.
It’s true for various reasons that are way too boring to get into here at Jenny’s Fun Medical Fact Farm and TMI Museum. I can appeal, yes, but basically chances are good that I will still have to pay for the cystoscopy, and THAT WILL NOT BE CHEAP.
So now would be an AWESOME time for you to scroll down the right sidebar and put a tip in the donation jar, if you have recently inherited random cash from Aunt Dotty, or if you just like it when I’m a potty-mouth. I will write back and thank you personally (and talk dirty to you, if that’s your thing, notmentioninganynamesSimon). Don’t do it if you’re short on cash! But if you’re long on it, and you want some of that disgusting green stuff to go toward my medical bills, click on DONATE and you will be upgraded to first-class on the Rapture Flight to Heaven. $5, $10—no amount is too small for the First-Class Rapture Upgrade.
I can make it even easier for you scroll-haters!
CLICK HERE TO HELP JENNY PAY FOR HER BLADDER PORN!
But no worries if you’re screwed too, financially speaking.
Okay. Whew! That was the BAD NEWS. Isn’t that good? That’s all I’ve got so far, for BAD NEWS. Which leads me to the OKAY NEWS:
OKAY NEWS:
They still don’t know why I can only pee while standing on my head, can only seem to eat at random times, and why various other bad stuff is going on in my midsection. But that’s OKAY NEWS, because
1) I’m not dead yet and they can keep testing a nice warm live patient
2) Insurance covered $1200 of SOME of the We Still Don’t Know Tests
3) There’s a toilet at the supermarket AND at Walmart
GOOD NEWS:
2009 sucked.
I don’t think it sucked any worse for me than for the other folks who are nodding their heads and pumping their fists and saying, “Yeah! It sucked for me, too, you know!”
It was just my own personal suckage, my own necessary grieving, looking like what it had to look like.
I was not easy to be around. I knew that, and I politely and not so politely removed myself from the World At Large from time to time.
I tried to be a good mom. That was the one constant I aimed for. Didn’t always succeed, but for the most part, pulled that off.
Was definitely not always a good daughter. Was definitely not a terrific friend.
I didn’t have too much to give.
So the ball dropped on 2009. I didn’t know what 2010 was going to look like.
I didn’t have real high hopes for this year. You guys know how I feel about the word “hope.”
As if on cue (and I mean, January 1st, 2010), my chronic odd abdominal symptoms kicked in. They kicked in hard.
The writer in me, constantly surveying the scene for meaning, shut up and took notice.
Last year, I wasn’t so sure I wanted to stick around. I didn’t much care. My heart was what hurt.
Along comes 2010, and my gut is screaming, HEY! PAY ATTENTION TO ME! NOW!
So I am listening.
And suddenly, I find that I very, very, very much want to stick around.
This is GOOD NEWS.
This is VERY GOOD NEWS, indeed.
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