This is just whining

Cycle Day 7!  I just took my last dose of Clomid.  I don’t mean to sound like a whiny baby, but these cramps HURT!  And I have been walking around today with my belly sticking out because I am so bloated.  When I took the Clomid before I always noticed the side effects started about the last day of my round of pills.  Well, you’re right on schedule, Asshole.  I’ve been a little more emotional lately, but so far no angry outbursts or furniture being thrown. I promise that is coming soon.  And more bloating.  That too.

What else can I complain about?  Oh!  Chris and I have finally popped the infertility cherry: we had to deal with the insurance company for the Ovidrel injection yesterday.  What fun that was.  So it started like this:

Last Saturday after the ultrasound we went to Walgreens to fill the Clomid, Ovidrel, and Progesterone.  They told us that they didn’t have the Ovidrel or Progesterone in stock, but their shipment will be coming on Monday.

So Monday comes and goes and I finally called Wednesday.

Girl: “Oh I see the progesterone is ready, but the Ovidrel has to be resubmitted to insurance on the 27th.”

Me, in a blind panic: “But I need it by Sunday!”

Girl: “Yeah… I’m not sure what to tell you.”

Me: Burst into flames.

So I call Chris at work and being the awesome husband he is, he offers to call the insurance company.  So we get the name of this place on the east coast that only does fertility meds and I call the clinic and leave a message to tell them to fax the order there instead.  The nurse called back and said she faxed it.

I leave, and go pick up the progesterone.  I knew I was going to have to do two doses a day for at least two weeks.  I was still shocked at how big the box was.  To illustrate: the box has to sit in the fridge, so when Chris got home that night, I asked him after dinner if he saw my box in the fridge.  “Yeah, at first I thought you had bought a cake, but then I realized what it was.”  And they say there isn’t anything humorous about infertility.

So back to my story: I am in my car about to go into the grocery store, and my phone rings and it’s the pharmacy.  I don’t question it, because I am a total dumbass when it comes to insurance.  I set up an account and then the pharmacist says the shot isn’t covered there.  Continuing my blind panic, I am told that this mail-order place that we supposedly faxed the order to has nothing to do with them.  Chris and I guessed that the clinic faxed it to the wrong place.  So Chris calls the clinic back, gets them to fax the order to the correct place, and finally gets in touch with the pharmacy.

It seems our insurance will only go through this pharmacy because it is cheaper.  The shot would have cost $140 at Walgreens, $122 at this other one, but only $77 at Freedom Fertility.  Which is why insurance only wants to pay for the cheapest place.  Chris says he would be surprised if there was even a co-pay for us.  But anyway, finally, we received word that they were going to overnight the med to us and we will get it this Saturday morning.  And my reward for all this?  Stabbing myself in the stomach with a pointy needle.  Fun times over at this house, y’all.

I know I shouldn’t really complain, because I know we are blessed to even have insurance coverage for fertility.  But I feel like Chris and I have been left having to navigate this ourselves.  Would Walgreens have even called me and notified me of this?  Why, when we were talking to the insurance company, did they not give out that little nugget of information that they only cover through one pharmacy?  We were so annoyed, but at least we know if we have to repeat this next month.  This is exactly why someone going through infertility is incapable of relaxing.

It just makes me bitter, all of this.  The insurance covers treatments up to $10,000, thankfully not including meds.  Still, we are going to blow through that in no time.  Shots.  Vag suppositories.  Bloodwork.  Ultrasounds.  Sheesh.  And to think 90% of couples just have to have sex.

I’m annoyed.