Get Clucky!

Tuesday, June 21, 2005

Adventures with the medico-industrial complex

Okay, so unless something changes in the next 24 hours (and, really, here's hoping), I'm probably going to have to pronounce this little "progesterone challenge" of mine, failure? I hate that word.

Anyway, my body seems not to have responded to the hormonal stimulation, so I shall have to do the next thing.

Which begs the question: where shall I do it?

Now, I am a lucky lucky girl and am fortunate to have shacked up with a boy through whom I get pretty decent insurance. So I have no complaints. I know I'm lucky.

But still, I must complain because it doesn't seem that my insurance will cover my visits to the place I would prefer to go. Why? I don't know. Probably because they aren't effecient enough. Probably because they schedule hour-long appointments (!!) so that you can really talk through issues and options rather than the standard ten minutes I receive for an exam from my old ob/gyn. Who's nice and all. As much as I can tell during my brief encounters with her and her speculum.

I know I'm lucky that my ovaries shall receive adequate health care even if I go vist Dr. SpeedySpeculum. But I have to say that I would give a lot, at this nerve-frazzeling point in my reproductive health, for the support that a more careful exam and explanation could provide.

And I just want to say that it sucks that even though the Chicago Women's Health Center is clearly providing an invaluable service, and better care, and in a normal marketplace would win everytime over an average hospital, it will loose clients (I'm hoping not me) because my insurance won't let me go there.

I know it's not news that big business takes care of big business, and that our free market economy is not so very free. But my ovaries are encountering that economic reality in a particularly personal way right about now.



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