#american health insurance sucks

[timewasjustadream]

I hate the US health insurance system, particularly Aetna. They are the worst.

For the past 3-4 weeks, I've had sudden, new symptoms in lower back that I haven't felt since I had back surgery 5 years ago. Tingling in the feet. Sciatica. Pain near the spine. Back muscles feeling like they are working harder than they should. Can only sit on the edge of a seat because sitting normally hurts.

I saw my doctor. Got a steroid pack to try to pull down the inflammation. I'm seeing a physical therapist for a leg muscle pull and they are concerned about the sudden change in my back given my history. They wanted me to see a spine specialist. I should note that I can't go back to my surgeon because he doesn't practice anymore.

I contacted a new spine center. They won't see me without an MRI because of my surgical history. I went back to my primary care doctor, who ordered the MRI. I got it scheduled for about a week later. I checked the patient portal last night (appointment is tomorrow) and the appointment is gone.

Turns out, Aetna denied the MRI so the radiology place canceled my appointment without telling me. I'm still scheduled to see the spine doc on Tuesday (6 days from now).

So I got the MRI rescheduled to today and I paid $867 out of pocket to have an MRI that my insurance should have covered if I had suffered for 2 more weeks and gone back to my doctor after.

Yep. Aetna requires 6 weeks of "treatment" and a follow up visit to my primary care before they will pay for an MRI. Mind you, had they covered it, I would have paid $100 and they would have paid $400. $400!! And they would have paid 6 weeks of PT (probably going to happen anyway) and the follow up visit to my doc.

I called Aetna and asked about the denial. They told me the above but also told me the other MRI policies. 15 days for pre-authorization, which I didn't successfully get past. If the doctor marks it as "urgent", they can do the pre-authorization in 72 hours.

How do they define "urgent" you may ask.

To Aetna, "urgent" = can wait 3 days = "imminent loss of life, imminent loss of limb, or condition will worsen"

3 days if you might not be alive soon?! 3 days if you might lose an arm?! 3 fucking days! AND that's if the doctor marks it as urgent and they may still need to call Aetna and talk with someone to actually get it taken seriously.

I hate Aetna.

[secsysweetcadaver]

[yellobb]

American “healthcare” can go fuck itself please and thank you

[reno-the-himbo-turk]

American healthcare at its fucking finest pt 1

So due to where I live being a red state being ran by assholes I started my Trans Journey properly roughly 4ish months ago. Now thanks to the fact I work 3rd shift I really can't be out and about during the day and my off days are weird. I really only have one solid day for appointments as the nearest trans care is over 30+ minutes away without rush hour traffic which is when I get off work assuming I am not forced/asked to stay late For those of you who live outside of America depending on where you are at in America there are multiple hospitals/doctors offices in your area and some of them are ran by different groups. Where I am at we have SSM, BJC/WASH-U, and MERCY are the big three. Now I do most of my medical stuff with BJC 95% of it for at least the last 15 or so years. Now this matters as BJC will share records with any BJC/WASH-U doctor no questions asked and will gladly refer you to another doctor if needed from BJC normally in pretty much the blink of an eye. Now they will not be able to access or share records with SSM/MERCY normally unless you go through a lot of paperwork and hoop jumping and if said doctor works at several facilities you can tell them I need paperwork sent to Blank place and more often than not they will mail/fax it to the wrong building (at least on my experiences) which then requires more waiting time (days in my cases) in addition to hoping they can basically look it up and be like "ohh it got sent to X place instead of Y place" Then going from there. Now why this is relevant. The doctor I see for transitioning is a specialist that with my insurance I pay a $75 copay to see. They deal with Endocrinology and issues of that nature. When I started seeing the doctor months ago I was able to get appointments for Thursdays which is the one day I am truly free to safely drive 30+ minutes to visit a doctor. My doctor for T no longer has Thursday appointments. They have 3 different facilities with different doctors I could in theory see, but after going through the hassle of telling them I need to change doctors for that reason, getting my doctor to approve it and then waiting on any number of other doctors to approve a patient switch I get told none of them have Thursday appointments. Instead I am told I have to do Zoom appointments on days that don't work for me which is an issue because I will have lab work that would need to be done and they still make you do in person visits every so often which if they only have non-Thursday days won't work. I also do not have a clean, safe, and private filming area for Zoom meetings because I do not live alone and cannot afford too when rent where i'm at is easily 1200-2000 a month and they would like you to make 2-3x that.

[an-absolute-trainwreck]

im fighting against my eczema and im losing

[dont-read-this-im-dead]

I have a pretty high pain tolerance. Like, I stub my toe, you'll hear me "swear" and complain loudly about it for several minutes, but I'm mostly just ranting. If you hear me complain on an hourly basis, it's not bad, and you learn to just ignore me.

But then there's PAIN. Pain which doesn't go away over time, often gets worse the longer I wait to tell someone about it. The pain that makes you curl up into a ball and cry for days on end, but instead, you put on a smile and go right into work like nothing is wrong. I will push it away for days, weeks, even months before I admit it hurts, just so I don't sound like a cry baby to everyone else.

I literally woke up screaming from pain at 4 am this morning. Tears running down my cheeks, I can't even curl into a ball because it HURTS something FIERCE. I've recovered from surgeries that didn't hurt as much as this. I've had actual holes drilled into my HEAD that didn't hurt HALF as much as my knees do now.

That's when I realized this kind of pain is not normal, and I really need to see a doctor.

So wish me luck. Idk how I'm gonna get there, because I'm in NO condition to drive, but I'll find a way.

[raspberryconverse]

*sigh* TFW you have too much anxiety to contact your spouse's insurance to find out how they handle out of network providers (do we need to hit the deductible first?) and so you probably have to reschedule your appointment to talk to a psychiatrist to help you figure out how to treat your anxiety.

This really sucks because I definitely have $300, but my spouse is paying so much to keep me on their insurance for this month I'm without my own coverage that it's so fucking stupid that I'd have to pay $300.

I made it so far and got this appointment only to have it be a fucking nightmare before it even happens. And you wonder why I didn't want to do this.

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | fake marriage au [18+]

in holy matriphony ch5. child's play

ᰔ pairing. fake marriage au - neighbor&realtor!gojo x nurse!reader (ft. choso x reader & suguru x reader)

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is your extremely annoying next-door-neighbor who you're pretty sure is the most insufferable man you've ever met. given the fact that you exclusively work the night shift at a chaotic emergency dept, just got broken up with your boyfriend of seven years, and have been taking care of your sick mother ever since her multitude of diagnoses, yet somehow your neighbor is the main source of stress in your life should speak volumes. but when your mother's medical bills start to skyrocket to more than you can manage, and you learn that said neighbor of yours has the best private health insurance plan in the country, you ask him to enter a matrimonial agreement with you for the spousal benefits all in the name of saving a few hundred thousand dollars. but you'll have to see if suffering cohabitation w him is worth any amount of money.

ᰔ genre/tags. fluff, smut, angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), annoyances to lovers (that's more like it), small town romance, fake marriage, next door neighbors, lots of bickering, suburban shenanigans, slow burn, mutual pining, gojo likes to play house but you don't, hatred for the american healthcare system, gojo always forgets to mow the lawn, jealousy, an insane amount of profanity, mentions of cigarettes, depression/anxiety; btw gojo in this fic is in his mid 30s n reader is in her late 20s

ᰔ warnings. reader in this fic has a sick mother w alzheimer's & cancer so there is secondary medical angst!!

ᰔ chapter. 5/x

ᰔ words. 4.8k

a/n. helloo my ihm friends! long time no see. hope you're all doing well and thank you so much to everyone who sent me kind messages about the whole ihm gojo ex wife thing haha. i really appreciate it :) i feel more confident about my writing decisions now, and that's all thanks to you guys! anyways, i will be posting shorter chapters for ihm going forward, so sorry if some chapters have slightly abrupt endings or stuff like that. i guess my goal is to post shorter chapters but more frequently! we'll see how it works out. anyways, hope you enjoy this chapter and see you at the bottom!!

nav. ch1 :: ch2 :: ch3 :: ch4 :: ch5 :: ch6 (pending)

Ever since admitting your mother into hospice, things have been calmer inside your mind. After passing the initial wave of agony that came with no longer hearing her voice down the hall or seeing her silhouette in her bedroom as you walked past it, you realized that…a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. No longer setting alarms at the height of every other hour to remind your mother to take her medication, no longer viewing every interaction you had with her as some form of study you needed to jot down in a binder for her neurologist’s records, and no longer driving her to all of her chemotherapy appointments, only to leave them feeling like you purposefully just took your mother to a place where they sucked all the life out of her in exchange for the slim promise of giving it all back to her someday.

Maybe it was evident in the way your shoulders felt less tense as you rolled them back, tilting your neck to the side and no longer feeling the painful strain that tugs a wince onto your face. The other day, you caught yourself humming a song as you drove to work. Your skin, usually feeling cracked and dry from stress and exhaustion, now has a slight plumpness to it like before. A more youthful glow, like the version of yourself you were before your mother became sick. The version of you that so quickly deteriorated, and one you didn’t even know still existed somewhere within you. 

There has also been time for hobbies. Rarest of occasions, you find yourself sauteing some yellow and white peaches in a saucepan over medium heat in Gojo’s kitchen, humming that song once again that’s been stuck in your head. The sundress you’re wearing matches the pink of the syrup that pools at the bottom of the pan, and you feel like you’re living your cottage core dreams in this brief moment of reprieve you’ve allowed yourself to fall into.

The sound of slippers tapping down onto the hardwood floor startles you out of your gleeful trance, and you turn your neck to the right to see a pajama-clad messy-haired Gojo shuffling his feet across the open area into the kitchen with a dark black mug in his hand.

“Why aren’t you dressed??” you ask him in a panic.

“I’ll get dressed later,” he tells you dismissively as he grabs the glass pitcher of coffee from where the coffee machine was nestled up against one of the counter corners.

“You’re stressing me out. Your mom told us to be there in two hours,” you say, putting your hands on your hips in disapproval as you hear the sizzle of the peaches in the saucepan. 

He entirely ignores you, choosing to instead drag his gaze down the form of your body. “Woooow, twice this month I get to see you in a cute dress,” he comments, pouring coffee into his mug but his eyes are still on you, “lucky me.”

“Oh Shut. Up,” you sneer at him with a harsh roll of your eyes, “your fake flattery might work on the lonely middle-aged women you seduce to make a living, but it won’t work on me.”

His shoulders push back before he slumps them slightly, his brow lifting with confusion. “It’s not fake though? I mean it. You look really nice right now.”

You point an accusatory sugar-syrup coated wooden spatula at him. “You’ve just been conditioned by the patriarchy to get a boner at the sight of a woman in a kitchen.”

“What–...no–...why do you always have to say stuff like that whenever I compliment you? Can’t you just accept it?”

You cross your arms over your chest. “I refuse to be flattered by an insolent man like you.”

He sighs, setting his coffee mug down on the counter, and you watch the way the fringe of his hair hangs over his forehead as he gazes into the contents, swirling it around with a loose grip on the handle. “Is this how it’s going to be everyday? I try to be nice, and you–...well, you know, are you.”

“Well who else should I be?”

His eyes lift up to meet yours, the slightest of a cheeky grin on his face as his eyes wander down the form of you again. “I don’t know. Someone a little…softer? Like, you’ve got this really pretty dress on, and then you’re telling me off about patriarchy-induced boners. It’s a little, uh, contradictory?”

You gasp. “You’re trying to control me. I knew it. You are poisoned by the patriarchy.”

“What?”

Your eyes narrow at him. “You have this image of a perfect and cute little wife, who’s gonna wear pretty dresses all the time, and bake stuff in the kitchen, and get all blushy when you tell her she looks beautiful, and you expect her to have this soft little personality that never argues with you or disagrees with you…ALL BECAUSE OF THE PATRIARCHY!!!”

“...I–...Okay, you’ve lost me.”

You let out a hmph! noise. “Can’t even discern his own brainwashing. Sad.”

“All of this just because I tried to tell you that you look nice?”

“I know what your ulterior motives are, you creep.”

His eyes spark a little at that, the corner of his mouth tugging up into a cheeky grin as he sets the coffee mug down onto the marble counter and he straightens his spine. You blink, watching with confusion as he crosses the distance between the two of you, to where you’re taking a small few steps backwards until your lower back presses against the edge of the island countertop. He cages you into the surface with his frame, followed by the palms of his hands sliding over the marble on both sides of you, and you feel his forearms press against the curve of your waist as he traps you in with no way out.

“S-Satoru,” you stutter, looking up at him with wide eyes, “what are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?” he says, his voice deeper with a nonchalance that has you shiver, his gaze dropping to your lips when you part them slightly.

“T-The patriar–” you squeak out, but he suddenly dips his head down to kiss you.

Your breath hitches in your throat, eyes immediately closing when he moves his lips against yours, one of his strong arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer to him and your hesitation is something that only lasts a brief second before you find yourself kissing him back. Some noise leaves his throat, deep and raw and sounding pleasantly surprised as he captures your lips more fervidly now, his hands smoothing down to hold your hips and his teeth slightly nip at your bottom lip. 

You grab a fistful of his shirt, unsure of whether you want to pull him closer to you or push him away, but the moan that you mumble against his lips only makes his grip on your hips even stronger, fingers digging into the softness through the thin fabric of your dress. 

The oven suddenly starts beeping, startling you and you pull away from the kiss with a gasp, eyes rounded as you look up at him, but his are lidded and dilated as his gaze remains glued to your lips. 

With a heaving chest, you try to push him away by a weak fist to his sternum but he’s unrelenting.

“You taste sweet,” he says, like some comment he noted in his head but accidentally voiced out loud.

“I–...” you inhale sharply, “I just ate three macerated peaches.”

“Uh-huh,” he barely acknowledges before leaning in to get another taste, but you push him away harsher this time.

His hands let go of your hips entirely, finally breaking out of that kiss-induced trance he was in, but he still remains close to you in proximity, so much so to where you can feel the heat from his body. It’s comforting almost, radiating through the soft cotton of his long sleeve shirt, and you find yourself subconsciously leaning towards him before you snap out of it too, and rock your weight back against the island countertop.

You cross your arms over your chest, hoping the flush to your cheeks isn’t showing. “Oh okay so we just casually kiss now?”

He shoves his hands into his plaid pajama pant pockets, leaning away from you slightly. “For as long as I can get away with it, yeah.”

“You are breaking the rules.”

“You never said no kissing.”

“I said no touching.”

“Ehhh kissing isn’t really touching, though, is it?”

“You sound stupid.”

“I always sound stupid to you.”

The oven starts beeping again, and you realize it’s long been preheated to the setting you had placed earlier. You slip away from him with haste, feeling his gaze on you as you press a button on the oven to turn the alarm off, and you stare at the handle for a moment or two to calm the beating of your heart down. 

Your eyes catch sight of something on the side of the fridge. A little magnet made of rubber that has the word London on it as well as the design of the Westminster Cathedral with golden accents. You recall that Gojo went on a trip to London recently, and that he didn’t bring you back any souvenirs from there like he did for your other neighbors. And you want to pretend, you want to shove it down, that incessantly childish feeling that wonders why he didn’t bring you anything back. You want to continue to pretend like it doesn’t hurt your feelings. Something so miniscule and small. But you–...well, you can’t.

You spin around to face him. “Do you hate me?” you bluntly ask.

He blinks at you. “Huh?”

“Do you, what, I don’t know, think I’m annoying or something?”

He shrugs with his hands still in his pockets. “I mean, yeah, I do think you’re annoying sometimes. But in a silly way. Like we’re just pals horsin’ around, y’know?”

You snarl at him, putting your hands on your hips and narrowing your gaze until he’s hardly even visible anymore. “No. I actually find you annoying. Like, wanna-run-you-over-with-a-bus annoying. You just have horrendous social awareness and think that everyone loves you.”

“You actually don’t like me?” he asks, like he can’t even believe that someone wouldn’t.

“Yes,” you say, “now get out of my way.” You make an attempt to push past him, purposefully knocking your shoulder into him to assert dominance but he is unfortunately much bigger than you and so all it does is make you stumble ungracefully from the recoil.

He quickly grabs your arm to steady you, and you glare up at him before yanking yourself away and then step backwards until your back hits the fridge.

He studies your demeanor for a second before taking a deep inhale, and then lets it all go in a heaving sigh. “What do I have to do to get you to lighten up a bit?” he asks.

“You really want to know?” you sneer at him.

“Yes,” he says with a slight hint of frustration in his tone.

You cross your arms. “Pay for the fucking fence.”

He blinks at you, confusion replacing whatever frustration was previously decorating his tone. “What?”

“The fence,” you reiterate with a step forwards towards him, “the one I built six months ago. The one where you laughed in my face when I told you to help pay for it.”

He leans forward. “Yeah. Because I never wanted that fence built. Like I said, it fucked up the roots on my avocado tree. You should’ve asked me before building it. In fact, it’s illegal to build a fence without joint consent of both neighboring property owne–”

“Oh my god, okay, see? This is why I can’t stand you,” you snarl at him and make another move to get past him but he easily steps in front of you to keep you from going anywhere.

With a sigh, he relents. “Fine, I’ll pay for the fence.”

You try to keep the twitching muscles of your face still as you resolutely stare up at him, pressing your lips into a thin line. Through a strained tone, you say, “No. I don’t want you to pay for it anymore.”

He lifts a brow, utterly bewildered at this point. “Huh?”

“Now it just feels like pity. And I don’t want your pity money.”

“Two seconds ago, you did.”

“Yeah, well, whatever. That was two seconds ago.”

“So…let me get this straight, you don’t want me to pitch in?”

“No. I want you to have wanted to pitch in SIX MONTHS AGO.”

“Okay but what the fuck am I supposed to do about that now?”

“NOTHING!!!” you finally snap at him, the shrill to your voice startling him slightly to where you see his shoulders jump, and his eyes are now rounded blue as he looks at you. “There’s nothing you can do about it, there’s nothing you can do to get me to ‘lighten up’ or ‘act softer’ or whatever the fuck kind of damage control you aim to achieve with me due to your pestering incessant need to be liked by every fucking person you come across. So just deal with the fact that I hate you and let me do it in peace.”

He’s silent for what feels like a long time as he blinks at you, his bottom lip pushing up slightly in a way that suggests he’s almost impressed by your little outburst, then he takes a step forward, and in that one large stride, he’s closed any distance between the two of you. Your back is up against the frigid steel of the fridge, your heels tucked under the warm rubber at the foot of it, and you’re looking up at Gojo as he towers over you, his hands still annoyingly and relaxedly shoved into his pockets.

“Do you think it’s gonna be a problem that I think you’re kinda hot when you’re mad?” he asks you.

A small puff of air leaves your lips, like you just can’t believe the audacity, but also having him this close to you suddenly made it a little harder to breathe. “C–...Can you just be fucking serious for one second?”

His head dips down, the fringe of his hair tickling your forehead, tip of his nose slightly brushing against yours, but his gaze never falls to your lips. “You think I’m not being stupid fuckin’ serious when I say that you’re hot?”

“S–” your breath hitches in your throat, and his gaze finally falls to the lick you pass over your lips, “Satoru–”

Like God himself answered to your (cognitively dissonant) prayers, the bell rings, and Gojo leans himself away from you, straightening his spine so he can glance over his shoulder towards the door, a slight look of irritation on his face through the furrow of his brow.

You blink up at him. “A–...Are you expecting someone?”

He rubs the back of his neck. “No. Don’t think so.” He sighs before shuffling around the kitchen island and across the dining hall towards the entryway of the house, and you peer at the sight from across the hall.

When he opens the door, you see Sana standing outside, dressed in mom jeans and a t-shirt with her black Coach purse slung around her shoulder, arms crossed, and you barely register the fact that she looks pissed.

“Sana?” Gojo says, “what’s up.”

She entirely ignores him when she catches sight of you, pushing right past him and into the family room that you were currently finding solace in.

“You,” she points at you, storming right up to your personal space, “what the hell did you say to Juno when you were babysitting her?!”

“H-Huh??” you squeak out, taking a step backwards. “What are you talking about?”

“You told her to fight kids at school?!” she snarls at you, and your eyes widen.

“What?” you say, your face twisting with confusion, “I–...I never said that. I just said that she should stand up for herself if she needs to.”

Sana inhales deeply with rage, leaning back and jutting her hip out as she crosses her arms again. “Yeah, well, I had to pick her up early from school today because the principal called and told me she shoved a little girl on the playground during recess, and now she’s facing suspension.”

Gojo approaches suddenly from your periphery, standing in front of you as he faces Sana. You stand on your tiptoes to peer at her over his shoulder. “What? Why would Juno do something like that?

You hear Sana start to tap her foot impatiently against the hardwood floor, and then she turns her head away from Gojo as a slight hmph! noise leaves her throat. “The why is irrelevant.”

You poke your head out from behind Gojo and glare at her, but then Gojo turns around suddenly to look at you.

“y/n,” he says, “what’s going on?”

“I–” you start, glancing at Sana again who now has a solemn look on her face with pursed lips. You glance back at Gojo, who’s looking at you with confusion and anticipation. A heat spreads down your neck from the attention of the both of them on you, and you’re not sure what the smart thing to say is, so you figure you’ll just tell the truth as it is. “...I just didn’t want her getting bullied and thinking she can’t stick up for herself.”

At that, you see Gojo’s shoulders stiffen. “Bullied?” he repeats after you, then quickly turns towards Sana, “what does she mean, bullied? Juno’s getting bullied at school?”

Sana faces him full-on, raising a stern pointed finger between the two of them “No. Satoru. Stop. You always do this. This has nothing to do with you, so don’t even start. It’s not a big deal, let’s not make it one.”

“The fuck do you mean it’s not a big deal? She’s getting bullied at school, and you want her to just suck it up?” he asks, venom dripping from his tone. 

“It’s for her benefit!” Sana exclaims. “Jun and I have spent months trying to get her into this school! We don’t want her getting kicked out.”

“Y’know, I’m–” you stutter, “I’m gonna–...I’m just gonna go upstairs,” you say, “this seems like a family matter. I think you guys should probably just settle this on your ow–”

“No,” Gojo says, pointing to the couch that you were standing in front of, “sit down.”

You sit.

Gojo turns to face Sana again, and although you can’t see his face, you imagine he’s pissed off from the way Sana’s shoulders drop slightly and her sharp expression is cut into a more sheepish one.

“Who cares if Juno is suspended for sticking up for herself? It’s the teachers’ fault for not making sure she’s safe,” he says.

“Shoving other kids is not the solution.”

“Well if you fuck around, then you find out. Kids are too soft these days.”

“This is not the 90s, Satoru.”

You watch the back and forth between the two of them for the better part of an entire minute, feeling uneasy in the hostile environment of the room, but there’s a sense of underlying familiarity between the two, one that is recognizable amongst family. And you feel rather foreign, but then remember that, technically speaking, now that you’re married to Gojo, this is your family too.

Amongst the arguing of the adults, none of you noticed that Juno had gotten out of the car in the driveway and was now standing in the doorframe of the front entrance. She looks scared and guilty, fidgeting with her fingers in front of her, and you notice her scrapes and bruises that you tended to last week were now mostly healed. 

Gojo catches sight of her, and you see his shoulders relax. “Juno, c’mere.”

With the permission, she instantly runs towards him and into his arms from where he was crouched down to the floor in order to welcome her, and then she starts sobbing.

“I’m–hic,” she cries, “I’m so–hic–I’m so sowwyyy Uncle Toru…I’m–hic–I’m sorry mommyyyy.” 

You see Sana sigh and she makes a move to brush Juno’s tear-dampened hair out of her face when Gojo pulls her away from his shoulder by a delicate hold of her bony little shoulders.

“Juno. Listen. If people are being mean to you, then you do exactly as your auntie y/n said. You stand up for yourself. And if that doesn’t work, then you cuss at them and threaten to shove their faces into the dirt until they run away with their tails between their legs. Do you understand me?” Gojo tells her.

Sana gives you a pointed look.

“Oh, I–” you put your hands up in front of you, “I didn’t say any of that last part.”

“Do you understand me?” Gojo repeats again, and Juno nods her head slowly before she falls back into him and soaks his shirt with tears. “I’m soowwwwwyyyyyy.”

Gojo pats her back a few times to comfort her, and your heart breaks for the little girl. It’s bad enough to be bullied at school, but then to be reprimanded by your mother the one time you stand up for yourself…you can imagine how emotionally exhausting that would be for a five-year-old. 

Juno sniffles, rubbing her snot all over the cotton of Gojo’s shirt, and then pulls her face away to rub at her eye with a weakly closed fist. “I–hic–I just…I just wanted him to feel–hic–the same hurt.”

“Huh? Who?” Gojo asks.

“The boy,” Juno says, “the one that shoved me today.”

“It was a boy?!?!?!” Gojo yells. “Alright. That’s it. I’m grabbing my bat.”

“Satoru.” Sana deadpans.

Sana and Gojo continue to bicker about the ethics of threatening five-year-old boys with baseball bats, going back and forth about how Gojo wasn’t actually going to do anything but just wanted to instill fear (he’s lying), while Sana isn’t exactly sold on a single pacifist thing that he says, and you sigh, because you realize you’ve become invested in one of, what you feel like will become many, of their family quarrels.

Juno sneaks around Gojo’s legs and comes up to you while the arguing is taking place in the background, and she gently taps your knee as you’re seated on the couch. “Auntie y/n,” she whispers.

You rub an eye crustie from her face and then hold her hand in yours. “Yes?”

“Thank you.”

“Mm? For what?”

She smiles at you, her cheeks pink and flush from crying but rounded now in glee. “My mommy and daddy spoke a lot today at home for first time in long time because of me. Because I listen’ded to you. Thank you.”

Your eyes narrow. “What do you mean by that, sweetheart?”

Why wouldn’t Sana and Jun be on normal talking terms? What does Juno mean that it’s been a long time? What exactly was going on at home?

“Juno,” Sana’s voice interrupts your thoughts, her arms crossed across her chest, “c’mon. Let’s go.” She points a stern finger at Gojo. “Seriously. I mean it. No baseball bats or rodent traps involved. I’ll talk to the teachers and sort something out.” She glances at you, that strict look on her face now dissolving into one of pure exhaustion. One you can imagine only a mother can face. “See you later at dinner, you two.”

Juno runs up to her mom and grabs onto her outreached hand, and you see Gojo ruffle her hair as she walks past him, her giggles ringing in the air, and then he sees them out the door. 

The air is awkward, at least to you, the second he closes the door, and when he turns around to face you, your body stiffens up.

He leans back onto the front door, crossing his arms over his chest. “Thanks,” he says, “for telling Juno to stick up for herself.”

You blink at him. “Well. I don’t feel too great about it at the moment, to be honest.”

He sighs. “I just think that Jun and Sana are raising her to be…kinda meek. I wish they’d teach her to be more confident and take up space.”

“Mhm,” you nod. Because you agree. Little girls need to learn how to be that way at a young age, because the world is seldom very kind to them.

“Well, what you said to her is what I would’ve said to her anyways,” he says.

You roll your eyes, standing up from the couch and heading back into the kitchen to presume your work on your peach cobbler. “I never told her to shove kids’ faces into the dirt. But, uh, sure, I guess so.”

You see Gojo enter the kitchen too in your periphery, but you don’t give him any glance or look or attention. From what you can see as you stir around your macerated peaches in a Pyrex bowl, he’s leaning against the island counter about three feet away from you, his hands shoved in his pockets, and he’s watching you. A slight warmth radiates in your cheeks, but you attempt to ignore the nerves by being hypnotized by the pink syrup that pools at the bottom of the bowl.

My mommy and daddy spoke a lot today at home for first time in long time because of me. Because I listen’ded to you. Thank you.

An unsettling feeling takes over your senses. It could be the past few years you’ve spent walking on eggshells around your mother, or the way you’ve become so keen to her energy as a way of staying on top of any shift in her symptoms, any single sign of disease progression, any clue that she wasn’t getting better. Any clue that she wasn’t doing okay. And you feel a sense of dread, because that skill, you realize, has now made you aware of similar circumstances in the people around you.

Not to mention, you are a child of divorce. You know what that fear feels like.

You just want to know if Juno feels safe at home.

“Hey, um…” you start, turning slightly to finally face Gojo, your eyes hesitantly flickering up to meet his gaze, “when was the last time you saw your brother-in-law? And with Sana?”

He raises a brow at you. “I just saw them last weekend for one of Juno’s dance recitals.”

“Ah…I see,” you say. You purse your lips together. 

Right. Kids say things all the time. They believe in Santa Claus and think that blueberry pancakes are called blubbery pancakes. And they sometimes read too into things, and they sometimes read too little. Surely, things must be okay. Maybe Sana and Jun had had a little argument with some stubbornly thawing cold shoulders, a demeanor that was noticed by their child, and now things have resumed to normal. That was normal. Part of every family. “That’s good to know…” 

You turn away from Gojo to stare back down into the bowl of macerated peaches again. With a furrowed brow, you close your eyes tightly to try to shake the chilly feeling in your bones, and you feel better when you open them again. The slightly numb sensation in your hand dissipates and you have enough dexterity to mix the peaches around in the bowl.

“I wonder what news they want to share with us over dinner,” you say, to quell the awkward silence.

“Hm?” Gojo hums, and you see him turn around face the counter now, hovering over the bowl of raw crumble topping you had mixed together, prodding at it with the wooden spoon. “Oh, they’re moving.”

Your head snaps to look at him. “W-What?”

“Yeah,” he nonchalantly affirms, scooping up a spoonful of the crumble. “They wanted to up-size, and move a little closer to the school that Juno’s at. I found them a nice place about an hour from here on the outskirts of the city. They just signed the papers a couple weeks ago.” And then he shoves the spoon into his mouth.

“Oh…wow,” you say. “Okay…”

“Damn,” Gojo says with surprise laced in his tone, "this is really good.” He’s staring into the bowl in awe and then scoops up some more crumble with a spoon.

You blink at him, irritated that he’s eating all your ingredients without even asking, and before you’ve even finished your dessert. It’s like he was born to piss you off.

You walk up to him and yank the bowl away, “Gimme that.” Then you pull it into the divot of your waist possessively and glare at him. 

He sighs, and then says something out loud that you’re sure he meant to keep in his head:

“I’ll get used to it.”

.

.

.

[end of chapter 5]

a/n. it feels so strange to post such a short chapter bahaha hopefully the ending isn't too abrupt. but hope you enjoyed! i'm so sorry ab the slow burn in this series aaa but i can try to assure you that it'll all be worth it hopefully lol i'm really excited for what i have planned for this series!! alsooo sorry if there are errors or anything, i'm trying to spend less time editing since it really stalls me n leads to writer's block lol. hope to see you in the next one :) much love! - ellie

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[lavinia-de-mortalium]

Took myself to Emergency on Monday for extremely high blood pressure (we're talking 210/160) because my regular doctor was too booked to see me for the next 6 months. 2.5 hours, 2 EKG's, a blood draw, and some monitoring, and the doctor on shift said, "Yep, you have extremely high blood pressure. We can't do much but provide a low dose of lisinopril for 30 days. Try and get into your doctors.

~Welcome to the American Health Care System~

[radiosummons]

POV: You're forced to study over 400 pages worth of health and medical insurance, as well as 200 additional pages of standard federal and state law practices and regulations in a 1 and 1/2 week time span in order to pass a licensing exam. And if you fail the exam, you'll be out $300 and have to start all over and pay an additional $300 to try again.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Andrew Perez at Rolling Stone:

EARLIER THIS WEEK, two Democratic senators announced they have requested a criminal investigation into Supreme Court Justice Clarence Thomas — regarding, in part, a loan for a luxury RV provided by a longtime executive at UnitedHealth Group, one of America’s largest health insurers. Thomas apparently recused himself in at least two cases involving UnitedHealth when the loan was active, according to a Rolling Stone review. Yet, he separately chose to participate in another health insurance case and authored the court’s unanimous opinion in 2004. The ruling broadly benefited the industry — shielding employer-sponsored health insurers from damages if they refuse to cover certain services and patients are harmed. Thomas’ advice to patients facing such denials? Pull out your checkbook.

While UnitedHealth was not a party to the case, the company belonged to two trade associations that filed a brief urging the Supreme Court to side with the insurers.  “As we saw so starkly this term, Supreme Court decisions can have sweeping collateral implications: If the court rules in favor of one insurance giant, for instance, it tends to be a boon for all the other insurance giants, too,” says Alex Aronson, executive director at the judicial reform group Court Accountability. “That was the case here, and it’s a perfect example of why justices shouldn’t accept gifts — especially secret ones — from industry titans whose interests are implicated, whether directly or indirectly, by their rulings.” The public had no way of knowing about Thomas’ RV loan at the time of the decision: The loan was only exposed by The New York Times last year. Senate Democrats investigating Thomas believe that much or all of the loan, for a $267,230 motor coach, was ultimately forgiven. Sens. Sheldon Whitehouse (D-R.I.) and Ron Wyden (D-Ore.) recently requested the Justice Department investigate whether Thomas reported the forgiven portion of the loan on his tax filings, after he failed to disclose it in ethics forms.

Meanwhile, Thomas’ health insurance opinion has had wide-ranging, long-lasting ramifications, according to Mark DeBofsky, an employee benefits lawyer and former law professor.  “It hasn’t been rectified. The repercussions continue,” DeBofsky tells Rolling Stone. “People who are in dire need of specific medical care, and [their] insurance company turns around and says, ‘That care is not medically necessary,’ and there’s an adverse outcome as a result of the denial of the treatment, or hospitalization, or service — there’s no recompense for what could have been an unnecessary death or serious injury.” Since last year, the Supreme Court has faced an unprecedented ethics crisis, with much of the focus aimed squarely at Thomas. ProPublica reported that Thomas received and failed to disclose two decades worth of luxury gifts from a conservative billionaire, Harlan Crow, who allegedly provided free private jet and superyacht trips to Thomas and his wife; bought a house from Thomas and allowed the justice’s elderly mother to live there for free; and paid for at least two years of boarding school tuition for Thomas’ grandnephew.

[...] Federal law requires Supreme Court justices to recuse themselves in any case where their “impartiality might reasonably be questioned.” The justices decide for themselves when such a move is necessary — and when they do withdraw from a case, they rarely say why. Thomas does not appear to have explained his decision to withdraw from the two matters that directly involved UnitedHealth. Thomas did not take similar steps in Aetna Health Inc. v. Davila, a case that broadly affected the health insurance industry. He instead authored the court’s opinion, which expanded insurers’ favorite tool for limiting liability: ERISA. Congress passed the Employee Retirement Income Security Act, commonly known as ERISA, in 1974 to protect employee benefits. The law is relatively vague when it comes to “welfare benefits,” and contains a broad preemption clause. The courts have filled in the blanks — including in the Aetna Health case — with distressing results for patients. Half of Americans have employer-sponsored health insurance coverage; nearly all of these plans are governed by ERISA.

Rolling Stone exposes how SCOTUS Justice Clarence Thomas received a $267K RV from a health insurance executive.

[dr-jingles]

Art is hard when Life is Happening but we persist- That's to say I've had a Big Life event happen recently, and a series other things to keep the punches coming. Some context below [ CW death, pet death, uh tooth issues ?]. I want to get back into drawing a bit more regularly- to get back some normalcy in my life. I might start up streaming again, or I might just start posting more whatever doodles here to help keep me on track. But thanks to everyone who has stuck around, and for all the love you've given me and especially my silly little characters.

On July 20th my father passed away. I still don't really know how to cope with it- or process it. I can't rightly put to words how important he was to me, just like the rest of my family. He was always supportive in his own way- encouraging of my art- and was the one who introduced me to the wonders of video games and MUCH more. Then August 3rd, two weeks later, our family dog passed away. I know it will get easier with time, but it's still hard. It all sucks a lot. I've got great friends and a good support system to help me through it, and I'm so thankful for that. So then of course I have to get some dental work done [root canal babeyyy] which was not cheap even with insurance [love that American health care system] and it will need a crown sooner rather than later just to add the cherry on top of this Sundae. I swear it better start going up from here cos I'm starting to run out of pegs to get knocked down from. [ I will be alright, just using a bit of some good ol humor to help cope].

[ashleywool]

health update/diatribe/infodump BUT THERE'S A CAT VIDEO AT THE END

Dearest reader: This should be a simple health update, but instead, it's an obnoxiously detailed info-dump written by the kind of person who knows more than most people about American health insurance but is still surprised at how it continues to find new and innovative ways to suck. If this is not the type of thing your brain or nervous system wants to wrap itself around, I don't blame you one bit, but if it is, I hope you'll at least walk away having learned something or being at least mildly entertained. If not, feel free to

SCROLL TO THE END FOR A HTDIO-ADJACENT CAT VIDEO!

When last we left our third-or-fourth-favorite mildly niche-famous T-list Broadway person, she was finally on the brink of getting a brain and pituitary MRI. This was supposed to happen on Friday.

But I wasn't allowed to get the MRI on Friday because Cigna's pre-authorization was still pending and there was nothing my doctor could do to escalate its urgency, nor could they withdraw the order. They couldn't do anything at all until the third-party organization that approves the pre-authorizations signed off on its medical necessity.

Look, I get it. This is an expensive and labor-intensive procedure, so they have to be thorough. I mean, sure, my doctor said it was medically necessary, and sure, they sent the additional clinical information to confirm its medically necessity, and sure, every order at every stage was marked as urgently medically necessary, and it was sent for processing on Monday, but how can they REALLY be sure it's medically necessary until my case is also reviewed by doctors who have NEVER seen me, and don't work weekends or holidays, and will get around to reviewing it at their own leisure? The folks at the radiology clinic rescheduled me in their next available spot and maintained that they'd contact me as soon as possible to fill any upcoming cancellation spots.

A ridiculous mildly annoying setback was that their next available appointment wasn't until July 26. They couldn't attempt to book me at any of the other dozens of clinics affiliated with this hospital network, because the pre-authorization is site-specific, which is like buying someone a gift card from the Starbucks on my block only to find out that they won't honor it at the Starbucks two blocks down perfectly reasonable, because I'm sure every site has differences that can't be perceived from a patient perspective.

Oh, and the existence of a pending pre-authorization prevented them from doing the MRI that day even if I'd had $8K in cash to pay out of pocket for the procedure. Which is perfectly reasonable, because why shouldn't American healthcare policy punish rich people too? I'm sure it's many flavors of unethical for one doctor to do something without the approval of another doctor even though the doctor whose approval it hangs on has NEVER SEEN ME.

One fellow in particular--I'll call him Quincy--gave me some insider info on how to prepare for the types of advocacy he's had to do in the past with this particular pre-authorization team, and which numbers to call and questions to ask. He isn't technically supposed to know this stuff and also isn't technically supposed to share it, but says he does it all the time anyway--hence why I'm keeping him anonymous. Quincy isn't his real name, but Quincy is a real one, and I took in his information like a medieval warrior selecting the choicest armor to prepare for battle the informed and fully compliant patient I strive to be.

Anyway, a few persistent phone calls later, a Cigna rep informed me that the middlemen would approve the pre-authorization for the MRI on the condition that I get the procedure done at a standalone radiology facility instead of a hospital-affiliated facility. Which is like buying someone a gift card that could only be honored at Starbucks kiosks located inside Target stores, but not at a standalone Starbucks or anywhere else in Target perfectly reasonable, I know the insurance companies don't wanna have to spend hospital prices any more than I do. So I spent a great deal of time yesterday looking up non-hospital-affiliated radiology clinics that were in-network.

I made an appointment with one clinic for Thursday. But I also made an appointment request at a different clinic for Monday morning, just in case they could see me sooner--because I knew this clinic didn't accept Medicare or Medicaid, and were therefore exempt from the requirement of third-party pre-authorization. (Pro-tip: even if you do have Medicare or Medicaid, always try to bypass pre-authorization for diagnostic procedures, especially if you have a particularly high in-network deductible--it's entirely possible that paying out of pocket for a service at an out-of-network provider could cost less than the amount you'd have to pay towards your deductible at at in-network facility. American math.)

THIS MORNING, I woke up at 8am to a phone call from the latter clinic, saying that if I sent them the doctor's prescription, they could pre-authorize the procedure and see me tomorrow. So that's what I did...and then I got an email saying that they couldn't accept a prescription for an MRI with and without contrast because they don't have contrast at that facility. Which is like finally securing a coveted reservation at an elite steakhouse only to find out they don't season their steak or even have steak sauce perfectly reasonable, because not everyone needs contrast, but I do, so that place was out.

But as far as I've been told, Thursday's appointment should go off without a hitch as long as I call EviCore (the pre-authorization middlemen) tomorrow morning to tell them all about the not-hospital that will be giving me a not-hospital-priced MRI, so that they can grant the pre-authorization at long last.

Perhaps if I plead my case and bat my eyes at them real cute-like through the phone, they'll give me some other reason why it's actually not medically necessary for me to know definitively whether or not I have a literal brain tumor I can get seen even sooner than Thursday.

FUNNY STORY THOUGH...

A couple weeks ago I was talking to a friend from church who was going through a lot of the same stuff as I was, and I was like "idk, maybe get your cortisol checked?" and lo and behold, he messaged me back a few days ago saying that he'd found a new doctor and asked him to do just that, and WITHIN A DAY his doctor ordered ALL the labs I'd fought for (serum blood cortisol, low-dose dexamethasone suppression test, 24-hour urine, saliva, etc.) AND an MRI for suspected Cushing's.

And he completed ALL OF THAT within a week.

Although he did have to suffer for quite a while before I floated the possibility of Cushing's, just like my friend Alan had to suffer for years before his own endocrinologists floated the possibility of Cushing's. Still, they both got that MRI the second it WAS floated, without a fight, and I'm genuinely happy for them.

But I can't help wondering how much quicker and easier this whole process would have been for me if I were a man. Or if I was neurotypical. Or if I still had a choice about whether or not to disclose being autistic. But mostly if I were a man.

THIS IS THE END! HERE IS THE HTDIO-ADJACENT CAT VIDEO YOU WERE PROMISED!

I'm fostering my friends' exquisite tuxedo princessfloof for a few weeks. Chevy and Tex are being very accommodating foster siblings, but she's much younger and is used to being the only pet, so naturally it took her a while to acclimate.

But there was one thing she took to immediately: the How to Dance in Ohio fidget spinner.

[reno-the-himbo-turk]

American healthcare at its fucking finest pt 2.

After explaining that zoom won't be a long term fix and the fact that I live 30-40 minutes away from the doctors office so going after work isn't an option as I would be driving into Rush hour traffic and have no idea how long it takes me to get there, plus I don't leave work on time often. The scheduling person no joke tells me "that I could just burn my vacation days and take vacation days or swap shifts with a coworker" or "that I could just go to work and request to switch my days off, or call in ill." Now the issue with both of these statements is swapping shifts whilst allowed isn't overly common at my job, I have a chronic condition that doesn't leave much sick time.

Swapping my days isn't feasible as the company went through a restructuring thing while back. If I request to change my days off though that means I'd be working with horrible manager more often and that I would no longer be guaranteed a full 40 hours as I agreed to this set of off days and signed a piece of paper saying if I keep these days off I will get 40 hours guaranteed as it was their big push to cut peoples hours if they tried getting premium days off (So weekends like Friday, Saturday, Sunday) as a weekly day off. They let you have one but not both. Most people want their days off to be back to back. If I am not Full time I loose my medical insurance.

Come the end of my call with Scheduling I am told that "I wasn't her problem and If I was inflexible then I needed to seek treatment at another set of doctors and hospitals" at this point 95% of all my medical care for my adult life is through them.

When I wrote my doctor back via the online patient portal and explained all of this and asked her what do I do/how do i keep getting medical care the nurse fucking writes me back and just tells me "Sorry we can't see you on Thursdays."

[shiraishi--kanade]

Wait so you have universal health care and also have huge medical bills??? I'm genuinely confused

Anon, you're probably American and you know what, I'm as confused about how American healthcare works and how therefore you guys imagine universal healthcare works as you are, so I'm not going to hold it against you.

But here's how it works in my country:

1. I have a heart disease. I go to a cardiologist in my city. My cardiologist takes one good look at me and says: "I'm sorry, we have nothing to help you here"- (because they lack the medical equipment, educated staff, or, in more cases than not, both). -"Here's reception contact for our state cardiology clinic, please go there."

2. So I go to the state clinic (that is located a fair distance away). They take a closer look at me, and they would treat about 60% cases that come to them, but then will also say "here's your meds and diagnosis but we don't have the equipment or staff to be 100% sure this is what's wrong. Have you considered..."

And then they refer me to a private hospital. Or a private clinic. Regardless, a private doctor, who charges their patients like everyone else does, and that pay goes up in thousands and tens of thousands for diagnostic processing or monitoring alone. And that's where I actually get my treatment. And my bills. Because regardless if you have universal healthcare or not, healthcare industry exists and will continue to exist.

State-funded healthcare (which we call free but it's not actually free, it's just paid for you by the state) will never be able to compete with the private healthcare industry because 1) the state doesn't receive any profit, and in fact only loses money on providing healthcare, 2) the state therefore does only the bare minimum to keep up with the demand, and usually doesn't necessitate enough funding to provide new technology and equipment or training, if any, 3) the medical staff, who have no equipment or training or pay, says "screw this, I'm out" and goes into the private field, where they actually have a shot at having a decent pay and working conditions.

Therefore the universal healthcare institution grows only weaker.

Is it fucked up? Yeah. Does it bring unnecessary suffering to anyone? Also yeah. But if you're any level of smart in this situation you'd just skip the first two steps and immediately go and pay to get treated properly instead of risk wasting PTO, gas and possibly your pre-existing condition flaring up to go through the routine.

And this is also why medical insurance is starting to get traction in my country with universal healthcare, because universal healthcare doesn't mean that you can get all the medical services free of charge but rather that there are options provided for you. No-one ever said these options have to not suck, especially for someone with a chronic condition. Fun!

Still better than the USA though I will admit to that.

[raspberryconverse]

Good god, do I hate the American healthcare system.

TL;DR: Even with employer sponsored health insurance (either my own or my spouse's), there is no good option for me to see the providers I want to see and have all of them covered.

I've been working as a contractor (not an independent contractor, but contracted to the company by my employer). They had been working for years to get my team converted to be their actual employees and last year they brought over my boss. They finally got everything squared away to bring the rest of the team over in 2 weeks. This will leave me with a gap in healthcare coverage, but because I'm married and having a "major life event," my spouse can add me to their insurance for the month I'm not covered.

This gives my spouse the opportunity to switch from the HMO to the PPO (which is what we decided would be best for them during open enrollment last year, but they went ahead and signed up for the HMO anyway and are having major regrets) and I can either stay on their insurance or take the insurance my new employer offers 30 days after I start.

I had actually been ok with my health insurance from my current employer. First the first time in over a decade, my therapist takes my insurance (granted, the first several years I didn't even have insurance and the first couple years at my job she didn't take my insurance either, but they switched to a different company that she now takes). I really liked the primary care doctor I saw and would like to continue to see her, but she's not covered on my spouse's HMO plan. She'd be covered on the PPO plan (which is basically the same as what I have with my current employer), but we'd have to pay a higher premium and hit our deductible. She'd probably be covered on my new employer's insurance too, but I haven't checked.

That PMHNP that I contacted does take my new employer's insurance, but not my spouse's insurance. My therapist did promise we'd work something out, but I have no idea what the PMHNP will charge out of pocket, so IDK if it'd be better to take my new employer's insurance or stay on my spouse's. And honestly, the jump from "employee only" to "employee + spouse," both in premiums and deductible, is huge, thus us having separate coverage with the same insurance company right now.

It's a big headache and I hate it and it makes me want to move to Canada or somewhere else with socialized medicine.

Literally the only thing that is good about being converted to an actual employee is the $13k pay bump. I had no idea my employer was making that much money to contract me and am kinda pissed they were so stingy with raises the past 6 years. I got a 3% raise after a year and a 9% raise last year to sort of make up for the previous 3 years. This pay bump is about 17% more than my current salary, but this insurance bullshit is a nightmare.