Wednesday, September 30, 2009

Dr. Head

I've been considering seeing a therapist...for about three years. I actually called a few on Monday. See, not bad, right, good time frame. I like to think about things FOR YEARS! Anyway, I'm finding that most therapists don't take ghetto healthcare, which is what we have because, well, we're broke. And we only have no-pay co-pay because Anna is in the "biracial" category. How odd. In fact when I applied for GhettoBlue, the woman reviewing my application was looking doubtful about giving us anything. Then she spotted one checked box, and another. She turned to her assistant and began speaking to her, about me. "I" became "Her".
"Lucy, did you know that Nichole is Native American?"
"No" Lucy looked up at me, a bit skeptical I might add.
"And did you know that her daughter is bi-racial."
"No." A slow creepy grin spread over Lucy's face.
"You're all set." She stamped the application and flashed a bizarre set of tiny teeth.
"So, that's it?" I tried to close my mouth to hide the shock.
"Yup. Oh, and don't be shy about applying for disability for your heart thing. I mean it, come back any time."
These women were peddling need! As I left the hospital, I wondered if they got a commission for every MA resident that signed up for HMOs and disability.
So, that's how we got GhettoBlue. And that's when I knew it might be time to deal with my hidden rage and other ugly beasts which have been feeding off of my soul for several years.
The doctor who did call me back told me it was unethical for him to take insurance because it interferred with doctor/patient confidentiality. Maybe I should have told him about the blog.
He does offer a sliding scale "based on income", however. I laughed heartily at that one. Income? WTF is that? Something actually has to "come in", right? So far, the other therapists haven't called back, the ones that will take my "plan".
I'm assuming they're too busy meeting like three patients at a time to meet some kind of fiscal budget.
For dinner, Chinese food, straight out of the carton, I promised Anna sesame chicken. Of course, this promise was made before I dropped $180 on her Tae Kwon Do lessons. Now, I have about $100 to get me through until next Friday, minus whatever the food costs. Maybe the therapist has a food pantry, too.


  1. I remember once going through my comics trying to figure out which I would offer up for sale in case they stopped giving money for donating blood. And we live in the USA and are very damned well educated women...

  2. Seriously. I have more education than my entire family on both sides put together, and I still make the least...WTF