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After the s.o. and I discussed Thursday the possibility of filing Chapter 7 to stanch the financial bleeding, the s.o. was laid off Friday. After spending the weekend doubled over with abdominal pain, the s.o. finds out that because of a clerical error, we can't visit our usual GP, whom the s.o. has been seeing for 25 years and who is on our insurance plan. The bean counters can't seem to find him in the list, though.
So we end up going to see the doctor the mighty mighty HMO randomly assigned to us. We end up spending an hour and a half in the waiting room, where I have to pretty much threaten to walk home if the s.o. bolts from the appointment. The doctor was nice and figured out pretty quickly we're not his usual audience, what with the lab rat degrees and all, so he gives us the straight talk along with the technical - he suspects gallstones, but we need tests to make sure. The nurse who takes the blood sample picks the wrong vein and misses, gets freaked and bruises the s.o., then vaguely apologizes and hands me an icepack to put on the crook of the s.o.'s arm.
We're supposed to get the results of the blood panel tomorrow, and of the ultrasound Friday. Needless to say, the geeking out levels at our house are just about to bury the needle.
I don't know who the f*ck I pissed off in a previous life, but I'm very very sorry, and I'm nowhere near that obnoxious now. Any kind of break would be nice.
Sigh.
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