FFS

Fuck.

The day thus far:

Our air conditioning broke. For those of you not near me, it’s currently 96 degrees and supposed to get hotter.

Ernie’s appeal for treatment was again denied and has been sent to some Medicare board somewhere to be appealed again. We were told there should be an answer within 72 hours.

72 hours.

In the meantime his cancer cells are all screaming happily, “SCHOOOOOOL’S OUT FOR SUMMER!” They’re just dancing unfettered. The prostate cancer cells are probably relatively sedate…maybe doing line dances. God only knows what the bladder cancer cells are doing but odds are there’s a rave going on somewhere in his body. Those bladder cancer cells are fucking crazy.

So, I got upset. I raised my voice, I complained, I gave my theory about his cancer cells partying and I cried. I mean, I wasn’t completely horrible, I kept saying, “I know this isn’t your fault.” It’s good that I got upset though as that led to further conversation. Our Health Alliance care coordinator (whom I like and has been helpful mind you) who we’ve been talking to for months didn’t seem to know that Ernie had bladder cancer as well as prostate cancer. I won’t even go into the details because I’ll lose my freaking mind if I do. She is calling the appeals board or whatever it is to see if the doctors can resubmit now or if we have to wait the fucking 72 hours for the final appeal before moving ahead.

What is so frustrating is that if I hadn’t gotten upset we wouldn’t have gotten that far. Now, maybe we will still have to wait, who knows, but for me to get that one further step I had to get extremely upset and that is so damn wearing emotionally. I can’t just bring out the yelling and tears without the heart behind it and it just fucking wears me out.