And The Hits Just Keep On Coming
So, once again I am discouraged and having a crisis. So much for the amusing lighthearted posts. As you may know, Gentle Readers, I am planning a big move to exit my current job because it is killing me. Since I finished residency, like, fifteen years ago, I have been working full time as an Ob/Gyn, a job which carries obscene hours and a boatload o’ stress. And I know forty-four isn’t horribly old, but I’ve been working like a slave for at least half of my life. And I have a seven year-old daughter whom I hardly ever see. And I am sick of missing her childhood. So my husband and I made this wild little plan for me to make the move to part-time work, so I can de-stress and see my family.
The de-stressing is particularly important, because I have bipolar disorder, have had it since I was a teenager, and it is getting steadily worse. Sleep deprivation causes relapses and depression, and my job is all about sleep deprivation. This weekend alone I have lost track of how many babies I’ve delivered, how many patients I’ve admitted, and how many circumcisions I’ve done. I got no sleep last night. I did a c-section at five this morning. I have just now gotten home for a shower, and here it is Sunday. So this is why I’ve missed my daily blog post for the last two days.
Anyway, the grand plan was, I was going to do travel doctoring, which is called locum tenens, and we made arrangements for me to work two weeks a month and be off two weeks a month. We had it all set up, but things began going horribly wrong. First I found out the the company that hired me screwed me over and hired three other doctors for the job I had. So I can only work five days a week instead of ten, and I don’t know if I can get by on that. So I was crushed by that news, and felt betrayed and angry, and now I have to fill out more paperwork to get licensed in yet another state so I can get more work.
We were just trying to get over that one when the next fun-filled surprise happened. Since I have worked full time for the last fifteen years, I have always had health insurance provided by my work, no problem. Now that I will be working part time for myself, I have to provide my own health insurance. My husband chose a plan for us and called Blue Cross and gave them all our information. He sent me a triumphant text a day or so later: we had gotten our new insurance approved. It all seemed a little bit easy to me. I have a long history of psychiatric treatment, and insurance companies do not like that. Sure enough, a day or so later, he tells me that while he and my daughter are approved for the insurance, Blue Cross refuses to insure me. I am uninsurable because I carry the bipolar diagnosis in my insurance records. How will I get by with no health insurance? My psychiatrist did offer my husband some hope, because my husband called him after we got the rejection. My psychiatrist said that my old job is required to provide me with Cobra insurance for eighteen months following the end of my insurance. My psychiatrist said, if I just keep that, at the beginning of next year kicks in the new Obama care regulations, and the insurance companies will no longer be able to decline me on the basis of mental illness. But for right now, I’m scared half to death. I’m uninsurable! How cruel is that? And I’m a lot better off than a lot of folks with bipolar. I function, I maintain a high level of performance at work, I haven’t been hospitalized. But they still won’t insure me. Bastards. Insurance companies are bastards. Which I knew anyway.
So, the hits just keep coming. I am bitter and exhausted this weekend, and the weekend isn’t even over. And I’ve got some sick patients already in the hospital to take care of. The only saving grace is that I’m off tomorrow, and I’m going to get my hair done. My grays are showing. After that, I have only one more call day before this job ends forever. Unless I have to go crawling back because now I have no job. And no insurance. So things? Not so good. I just wish I had some positive news to report.