Losing It

For the most part, I've been going along lately, coping pretty well with everything, especially this latest pothole. But then, out of the blue, I find myself completely losing it over something unrelated. Example:

Lilah has this . . . errr, growth on her behind. So I recently took her to the ped, who referred us to a specialist. Another specialist. I swear, my life is full of specialists these days. Anyway, so I got the official referral/authorization from our insurance company in the mail a couple days ago. I called the specialist's office this afternoon to schedule an appointment for Lilah.

The receptionist proceeds to ask me at least 93 questions - my name, date of birth, address, employer, husband's name, date of birth, employer, blah blah blah . . . I finally stopped her and said, "Why do I have to give you all this information on the phone? I just want to make an appointment." She tells me that she can't make an appointment until she gets all this information from me. Seriously? Then she asks me for our insurance information: company, billing address, member number, subscriber ID, yada yada yada. I stopped her again and said, "First of all, don't you have all that information in front of you? The authorization was faxed to you by our pediatrician. Secondly, aren't you just going to ask me for my insurance card when I get there so you can make a photocopy of it? It has all that information on it, so why am I giving it to you on the phone?" I admit I was getting pretty bitchy by this time, and she was getting good and bitchy right back. She said she needed my insurance information to check for eligibility. WTF??? I told her that I had a copy of the authorization from our insurance co. right in front of me as well as a note from my ped's office saying it had been faxed to their office. That's proof of eligibility, isn't it? We went round and round, and she put me on hold at least 8 times - I'm not kidding. Finally, at one point she got back on the line and I came unglued. I started crying! And ranting to her, "I have a baby with Down syndrome who sees all kinds of doctors, and I have a husband with cancer who sees all kinds of doctors, and never in my life have I been made to jump through so many hoops just to get a FREAKING APPOINTMENT!!" She put me on hold again and then transferred me to someone else. I asked the new person if she was the office manager because I really wanted to talk to the office manager, and she said no, the office manager wasn't in, but she would be happy to transfer me to her voice mail if I wanted. I told her, "I just want to make an appointment for my daughter, that's all!" "Ma'am, I'm trying to help you here . . ." Ugh.

I swear, no exaggerating, this was a freaking TWENTY-MINUTE phone call - just to get an appointment!

When I got off the phone, finally, I shut myself in the bathroom and had a good cry.

And now I'm asking myself: was that really just over the phone call - which, granted, was extremely frustrating! - or was it a buildup of everything else?