Cancer Diary II: So. Many. Calls.

So I'm still in the decision phase of treatment (which boils down to: radiation vs. surgery. A real Sophie's Choice, to be honest), but the one thing that's already just weighing me down, which will come as no surprise to anyone who's ever had a medical problem ever, is: the fucking commo.

It's not just the calls with an actual doctor of some sort; it's EVERYTHING. I get a text from my medical provider telling me to login to their portal because I have a new message. I try to login and it has to send me a text with a code before I can. Then I read the message and reply. Repeat every fucking step for every single message over and over and over...

I've also come to loathe my insurance provider even more than before, which I genuinely wasn't sure was possible. Why email me an Explanation of Benefits that boils down to "lol we ain't paying for any of this" and includes a big scary fuckoff number in it and then I start calling the doc's office for some WTF calls and they're like "yeah, we already auto-filed an appeal, we'll let you know and do this if they keep rejecting or this if they accept..." and what in the FUCK is the point of all of this???? I am like the 50 milionth person to note this, but the last thing a sick person staring down their mortality wants to deal with is endless commo and comparison shopping on shit that MIGHT SAVE OR END YOUR LIFE. Just give me the best care I have access to and fucking pay for it! Automatically! I have to keep my job to pay for ANY of this and having to make a dozen fucking phone calls a day puts that at jeopardy! And adds IMMEASURABLE stress to any already-stressed out me!

I firmly believe this is by design. "If we stress the sickest out they die sooner and our profits go up". Just a fucking diseased system. I dunno, I guess I'll just end this with All Praise to Saint Luigi and May There Be More Of Him.