Rain and Roses

So. Here's the deal.

For the last several years, I, like most other able-bodied Americans, have been covered under my employers' health insurance plan (various iterations of Premera Blue Cross Blue Shield). I've been lucky in that the last couple of jobs I've held have also given me the flexibility to go to the doctor's/dentist's/ophthalmologist's office when I needed to; as a result, I was able to get the disaster area that was my mouth patched up as well as getting new glasses.

Theoretically, what you're buying with insurance (as various advertisements love to tell us) is peace of mind. And to a certain extent, it's true; it's a lot less scary to think that you have some help with medical expenses, should you incur any - the cost of care in this country is well-known to be stratospheric. (Sadly, this could have been predicted by basic economics: one of the tenets of the free-market system is that you, the customer, have the choice whether or not to participate in any given economic transaction - if the price is too high, you won't buy. Fair enough, but obviously that's severely broken when it comes to health care, as you literally don't have that choice. If your arm is broken or you're having a heart attack, you can't exactly call around and compare prices, or put off getting care until the prices are better.) So, again theoretically, what I'm buying with my X number of dollars per month is that peace of mind, and that ability to go to the doctor without having to worry about whether I can afford it.

But here's the thing that I've noticed. Everybody knows that getting money out of an insurance company is like pulling teeth (sometimes literally). To their credit, Blue Cross Blue Shield's dental and vision plans were very straightforward and I didn't encounter any trouble getting them to cough up for those (which totalled in the thousands of dollars). But, thanks to the sinister alchemy of deductibles, limits, coinsurance, and coverage gaps, every single medical expense I incurred (which fortunately was only one emergency one, when I passed out suddenly at work) I ended up paying for the majority (if not the full) cost. Part of this was simply punishment for the fact that I'm a pretty healthy person, all told - I think the only year I even maxed out my deductible was the aforementioned emergency, and even then I ended up paying for more than $800 of a $1500 bill. The only recurring medical expense I had was birth control - yearly checkups and pills. But really (and here's the damning part of it all), most of the reason I barely ever went to the doctor (for checkups, or because I was sick with the swine flu and probably should have), was that I didn't want to fight the insurance company about it. Which, I'm sure, is exactly their goal by spuriously denying claims and using all those other underhanded tactics that they're well-known for - sure, they'll often cough up if you fight with them, but the more of your time, energy, and stress that they can cost you over it, the less likely you are to want to do so in the future (and, therefore, the more of your money they can keep).

Now, honestly, this all wasn't a huge deal while I was working full-time, because coverage was automatic (and really quite cheap) - an automatic payroll deduction of $10 or so (more when I was working for a small company). True, the City and Borough of Juneau was shelling out $1090 per month per employee for coverage, but since there was no chance of my seeing that money in my paycheck, I just didn't think about it much. But something happened shortly before I left Juneau that left me truly sick to my stomach at the thought of giving Blue Cross Blue Shield (or any of their ilk) any more money.

I've been on the Pill for about seven years now, and while I've not always been as religious about timing it properly as I should have, I've been lucky enough not to have any major problems (or pregnancy scares) with it. However, going to the pharmacy and shelling out $15 every month is kind of a pain, and since we were planning a cross-country move (and therefore my daily routine was going to be pretty upside-down for a while), I figured I should look into something more quasi-permanent. After talking it over with my health care provider (a lovely woman named April), she suggested Implanon, a nifty little matchstick-sized implant that they stick under the skin of your arm, that sits there and releases pretty much the same hormone that was in my pill for the next three years. No muss, no fuss, pretty much no worries until I have to get it removed (it ceases to provide protection after three years, and you want to get it removed as soon as possible after that because of the possibility of scar tissue developing that would make future removal difficult). So I decided to go ahead and go with that, since (according to her office) it's covered under insurance.

Surprise, surprise, a month later I get an "Explanation of Benefits" (a misnomer if I ever heard one) from the insurance company, explaining in their standardized spreadsheet form that this service was not covered at all and I was on the hook for $1500 worth of expenses. April's insurance specialist got them on the phone and argued for several hours, to no avail - apparently, under the supposedly-so-excellent City health plan, "there's no coverage for birth control."

May I just get a gigantic W. T. F. from the peanut gallery, please. (Thank you, peanut gallery.)

Because she's a good doctor who's not trying to bankrupt her clients, April dropped $500 off the bill, so I'm "only" on the hook for the other thousand, and she was more than willing to work out a payment plan for it. But Jesus H. Roosevelt Christ - I'd been working for the City for a year at that point, which meant that they'd shelled out $13,080 for my insurance coverage at that point (and I hadn't had a single other medical expense that year). And they refused to pay a bill for a fraction of that cost, because a very basic part of health care that nearly every woman uses (and that saves them money in the long run because they don't have to shell out for pregnancy expenses) "wasn't covered"?

Needless to say, when I discovered that Brian's health coverage (which I do qualify for, as his spouse) was through Blue Cross Blue Shield, I wasn't too thrilled. And when we found out that they wanted $140 a month to cover me (for medical alone, and in addition to whatever Brian's employer is shelling out), I practically saw red.

Well, this is America, after all, and supposedly the biggest power you have in this country is the ability to vote with your wallet. So, insurance companies (all of you), here's my vote. I'm the type of customer you love to insure; young, healthy, productive, no major medical issues, not genetically prone to any diseases that I know of, not prone to risky behaviors. But thanks to your horrendous level of "service" over the past five years of my life, I'm done with you, full stop.* I know it's a gamble, and that if I break my leg or something I might well end up bankrupt. But I'm so very sick and tired of being in constant dread of the next "Explanation of Benefits" that comes in the mail, and I refuse to spend another hour of my life fighting with you over what is and isn't covered under my plan. Since I'm lucky enough not to have any major recurring medical expenses, I'm just going to take my $140 a month and sock it away in a savings account, either until I get another job that offers benefits (and no "take the cash instead" plan) or until Obama manages to cajole/threaten/blackmail Congress into passing a universal health care plan that doesn't suck (which I can't say I'm holding out much hope for, but he worked a pretty major miracle with getting elected, so who knows?). Meantime, we'll see who comes out ahead; but frankly, I'm thinking I'll have enough money to buy a pretty nice car by the time this isn't an issue anymore.

*If anyone's had any experience with a non-evil health insurance company, I'm more than willing to keep an open mind. But frankly, I'm not very hopeful.

Background information: The other day, Brian bought a Droid and signed up for a ruinously expensive data plan that nonetheless provides Internet access pretty much anywhere, which is really pretty darn cool - I'm updating this as we drive to Tucson.

Me (furiously Googling addresses and scribbling down information to plan our trip): Okay, so we'll probably want to go to Costco first and get some sunscreen before going to the Desert Museum.

Brian: All right, but you don't need--

Me: And do you want to go to Janos today? Because I'll need to call and make a reservation.

Brian: Er, maybe, but--

Me: I should probably get down the hours they're open, too, and the movie times--

Brian: Dear? Go take a shower.

Me (taken aback): Don't you want to get the information for where we're going?

Brian: Yes, but I have a portable internet device.

Me: …Oh. Right.

Go.

...is that sooner or later, you have to actually start doing them, and it's scary as all hell.

I could sit here and be freaked out and upset and wonder how I was going to handle the next few weeks.

But I think right now rather hum something happy.

So - Mahna mahna!

Today was kind of an odd day. I got really annoyed about an interpersonal issue at work - far more than I should have, given the inherent time limit - and spent several hours feeling stressed out and frustrated about it. Not fun, especially when you know it's something you can't really do much about and therefore is kind of stupid to be frustrated over.

Anyway, I left work early for an eye appointment, during which I tried to relax, with only some limited success. (Amusing moment - the assistant was showing me the colorblindness plates, and I was confidently rattling off the numbers until she came to a couple that looked like absolute gibberish to me. I blinked and kind of went "Uh...", wondering I'd become colorblind and hadn't noticed, when she laughed and said it was good that I couldn't read the numbers; apparently they're only visible to people who are colorblind.) And afterward I wandered over to the eyeglass display, looking to find a new set of frames for glasses.

Now, I like to think I'm not always difficult to please, but there are certain things I tend to be pretty picky about. Places to live. Computers. Cats. Husbands. The sorts of things that you're making a multi-year commitment to. Eyeglasses certainly fall into this category, with the additional consideration that they can have a startlingly big effect on how others perceive you. So I tend to take my time when shopping for glasses, trying on any number of pairs until I find the ones that look and feel just right.

I was lucky enough to find them this time after going through only about a third of the store's stock (I've been known in the past to try on nearly every frame in the display). Oddly enough, they include two of the traits that I found rather unattractive on other sets of glasses - the lenses are more rectangular than round in shape, and they have particularly wide temple arms that include a rhinestone pattern along the side. But for whatever reason, my gut told me they were the right pair; they fit my head well and framed my face flatteringly, and just plain felt right. So I went and looked at the price tag, figuring they'd be in the $180-$250 range like all the other frames I'd liked.

Nope. $380. (I didn't recognize the label, but then, I don't keep track of designers, so it's perfectly possible they're some name brand.) I cringed - my insurance coverage maxes out at $225 for frames, so I'm making up the difference - but I figured that, in the end, it'd be well worth it. I'll be wearing them very nearly every day, after all. And hey, I'm at least getting my money's worth from my insurance. (Which isn't to say I wouldn't rather have had the $1090 a month the City's been shelling out for me to have said insurance. Just saying.)

And for whatever reason, ever since then I've felt fine - happy about upcoming possibilities (see my last post), excited to be getting plans moving, cheerful about life in general. I've never really subscribed to the idea that consumerism is the answer to all of life's woes, but I won't deny that the experience of finding exactly what you're looking for and having the means to pay for it is a hell of a mood-booster.

Almost every major constant in my life, everything that I've kept in the back of my mind as "this is more or less permanent" for the past five years, is either in the process of changing, has changed very recently, or will change soon in the future.

They're not bad changes, and I'm not sorry they're happening. But why is it that big changes like these always decide that they're all going to happen within a few months of each other? Do the gods just get bored with things as they are and decide to meddle in everyone's lives at once, or perhaps just bring a divine fist down on the board and let the pieces fall where they may?

I've wanted things to be different for some time now. When Brian decided I needed a new hoodie I even bought one with an autumn leaf motif and "Winds of Change" scrawled across the front. I suppose it serves me right for inviting Change into my life - I should know by now that she never respects the boundaries you want her to.

We're moving to Arizona.

I have to admit, this is a particular turn I didn't see our life taking. We've been planning to move out of Juneau pretty much since we got together five years back, so that's not a particular surprise. But our plans were always centered on the Pacific Northwest - Washington or Oregon or some such. Obviously, the job situation there (and pretty much everywhere) has been awful for some time now, so we'd pretty much decided to stick around here a while longer, and used our savings to get married and have a honeymoon (both of which were fantastic).

Then Adam, whom longtime readers may remember as my friend who came up here to work for a year, told us there were openings at the company he works for, specifically the Arizona office where he is. Very cool, although Arizona wasn't quite where we were headed, but we make a note of it anyway, thinking we'll maybe look into it when we have money to move.

And suddenly Adam's supervisor is asking for Brian's resume, and giving him a phone interview, during which Brian mentions that we can't really afford to move right now. But apparently they really want his skill set on their team, because they're sending him a job offer with a bonus attached for moving expenses, and even though he doesn't have the alphabet soup of certifications necessary he already has the knowledge so they're going to hire him at his current salary and put him through the certification process and through school to get a degree and then rehire him for half again what he makes now, all at two-thirds the current cost of living of where we're at now.

Yeah. Apparently they really, really want to hire him. Not that I'm complaining. :D The very cool thing is, if we end up not liking Arizona, there are all kinds of other places we can go - the company's a government contractor, and has branches everywhere from Washington DC to Naples, Italy. And even if he doesn't like the company, he'll have a pile of certifications, government security clearance, and all kinds of experience for his resume, which should make it easy to find another job pretty much wherever.

I'm not quite sure yet what I'll be doing while we're in AZ. I can be an admin assistant anywhere, obviously, but I've become increasingly disillusioned with that lately. We'll be about fifteen minutes away from Tombstone, which is a huge tourist attraction/Wild West reenactment spot (surprise, surprise), so I might be able to get something acting oriented. I could deal with a job where I had to wear a corset every day. Beyond that...I guess we'll see what happens.

I know we're going to miss Juneau. In a lot of ways, it's been like a nest - small, enclosed, safe, where we know pretty much everywhere to go and have friends and steady jobs. But it's also been incredibly confining, what with the high cost of living and plane tickets out being upwards of a grand for two people. Leaving the nest is a big step, but a necessary one and hopefully one that will make us happier in the long run.

...Yeah, I'm scared shitless. Wouldn't you be?

Been down with some kind of flu/cold/nasty virus for the past five days.

Most of that time was spent sleeping, being depressed about health care reform (funny how when most of your brain is gone what's left tends to latch on to one particular thought), reading a webcomic of sorts (thanks John!), and generally being surly about the fact that this was the second time in four months that I had been bed-bound. Unusual for me...no idea if this was swine flu or just a seasonal bug, but it was still no fun. Of course, it also had to come along at a point where I had very little leave time saved up...which made its arrival over a paid holiday either fortuitous or doubly annoying, depending on your point of view.

On the upside(?), I got better at Lumines than any human has any right to be, and unlocked three new skins!. And discovered that it's just about the perfect game to play while stoned out on NyQuil, right before the sleep-crash.

No, I'm not quite 100% yet. But. I've spent enough time in bed, and I'm going to salvage what's left of the week at work, leftover sinus ick be damned.

Wish me luck getting through the day, everyone.

Not at PAX.

This is kind of like "Still not King", except with even more self-pity.

But it's okay. I mean, I didn't want that convention anyway. The lack of funding to attend this year had nothing at all to do with my decision not to go, so everyone's tweets and posts and to-the-minute updates will have no effect whatsoever. None at all.

*sniffles*

So the rumor mill has it that Dick Cheney, Angel of the Bottomless Pit of Governmental Cronyism and Lord of All That Is War Profiteering, was not only in town a few days ago, but used a paltry percentage of his Halliburton-gotten gains to buy a house here on Douglas Island. I have no idea if he'll actually be living here, but given his fondness for staying in Undisclosed Locations, a house on an island in Southeast Alaska that's completely cut off from the major road system does seem a likely candidate.

Obviously the rumor mill wasn't specific as to which house that might have been, but I've come up with a pretty foolproof plan. See, I'm thinking I'll invent a little gizmo called a Demon Finder. It'd work kind of like a Geiger counter, except that it measures the free-floating particles of villainy in the air. Up until now there wouldn't have been much use for it locally - there are a good few folk in town who've become moderately wealthy by committing petty evils like building and renting out poor-quality housing or running no-tell motels - but I'm pretty sure the amount of pure, unrefined turpitude left by Mr. "I'm very proud of what we did" would drown out those remora fish in a second.

So, who's up for a good old-fashioned angry-mob-raising? I'm pretty sure Don Abel's has a supply of pitchforks, and we can improvise some torches. Given Juneau's plethora of musical talent, we might even be able to get a chorus to sing "Kill the Beast" - any volunteers?

So my Alaska Airlines newsletter is telling me that the TSA is instituting a new program where they require your full legal name, date of birth, and gender when purchasing a ticket.

On the one hand, they're a government agency, and it's not like they couldn't track down that information anyway if they really wanted to. But by the same token, I'm fully aware of how much information (read: everything) the right person can track down with just your legal name and date of birth, and the idea of having databases full of this information for thousands of people in the hands of the TSA, an agency I find only marginally competent at best, doesn't fill me with a lot of confidence. And their claimed benefits to this program are all so vague as to completely fail to convince me that the end result will actually do any good. (Not to mention that the airlines themselves will also have said information, and I somehow doubt their privacy measures are as stringent as the government's...)

I think what frustrates me the most is that there's really nothing I can do about it; the only way to circumvent TSA's "security" procedures is to either [a] buy your own plane or [b] refuse to fly. I live in a place where the latter is unrealistic, and the former is obviously unlikely, so I don't think I'm going to have any choice but to pony up more personal information the next time I want to get out of town. Sigh.

...You know what? That's it. From now on, I'm going to fly TARDIS - sure, the company's a bit odd, and it doesn't always arrive in the place or time you're intending to go, but last I heard the owner wasn't remotely interested in rooting through your luggage or collecting your personal information. And the results are usually far more entertaining than your average commercial flight.

Went bowling with friends tonight, which was fun. Our lane had what appeared to be the bowling-lane equivalent of an epileptic fit, which was less fun but kind of amusing. While the folks in the back sorted it all out, the waitress gave us a free round of beer, which was definitely fun, especially since I'd already had half a Red Bull.

Went to the Viking afterward, the first time I'd been back since returning, hyped up on booze and caffiene and endorphins and general good times. Danced a lot. I am going to be so sore tomorrow.

It'll be so worth it.

Why did I have to go through the whole vampire obsession thing eight years ahead of everyone else, so that now, when there's no shortage of erotic vampire storytelling, rather than going "OMG that's hawt" I just wince at the overtones of domination and codependence?

While he's taking pictures of breaching humpbacks out at Douglas Harbor, I'm off by the pier waiting for our friend David (who's been out fishing on his friend's boat) to come in. Thinking I'll check out the time, I pull Brian's iPhone out of my back pocket.

And drop it into the harbor. In murky, cloudy, silty Alaska water.

I reach in to try to find it, then borrow a net and try to dredge it up, but I have only a vague idea of where it is, and I have no luck finding it. Eventually I give up, only to catch sight of the edge reflecting light underneath the surface, and I reach out and grab it. But it's been in there a few minutes already, so it's pretty much dead.

Brian shows up shortly after I do so, and asks what's going on. Everyone on the pier, including David, suddenly finds their feet very fascinating.

I say in a very small voice, "I dropped your phone into the harbor."

There is a very long silence, which includes a Look.

Then he says, "It's okay. I still love you." And hugs me.

David: "I now pronounce you man and wife."

Link stolen from sigma7.

So this woman has a blog/Facebook/Twitter setup, all centered around telling the story of her Very Difficult Pregnancy - how her soon-to-be daughter had been diagnosed with a fatal disease in utero, and how she wasn't getting an abortion no matter what, and yadda yadda yadda. This being The Internet, the results were pretty predictable:

Every night for the last two months, thousands of abortion opponents across the nation logged on to a blog run by the suburban Chicago woman who identified herself only as "B" or "April's Mom."

People said they prayed that God would save her pregnancy. They e-mailed her photos of their children dressed in pink, bought campaign T-shirts, shared tales of personal heartache and redemption, and sent letters and gifts to an Oak Lawn P.O. box in support.

As more and more people were drawn to her compelling tale, eager advertisers were lining up. And established parenting Web sites that oppose abortion were promoting her blog -- which included biblical quotes, anti-abortion messages and a soundtrack of inspirational Christian pop songs.

By Sunday night, when "April's Mom" claimed to have given birth to her "miracle baby" -- blogging that April Rose had survived a home birth only to die hours later -- her Web site had nearly a million hits.

Any guesses as to how this tragic tale ends?

Yep - it was all fake! Ten points each to the smart readers.

What totally cracks me up, though, was the way in which she was found out. She'd spent all this time so carefully crafting this story and roping people in, and then takes pictures of herself with her newborn - except that the "baby" is actually a doll. Surprise, surprise, a few people go "I have that same doll!" and the whole thing unravels from there. Really, how hard would it have been to just take a picture of the bundle of blankets, or (even better) spin a sob story about how the pictures are too personal to post?

Sunny weather in Juneau makes everybody insane. We just can't handle it. That's all there is to it.

I stopped at the grocery store to pick up nacho ingredients for dinner, and when I got to the checkout the lines were all incredibly long. Not your usual "rush hour after work" long, but "five people with full carts in front of you all curving off to the left because there's no room for them to line up straight" long. A pain, for sure, but such is life, and I entertained myself texting people about (you guessed it) how long the lines were.

The real doozy came a bit later, as I was pulling out of the parking space. I saw a car sitting half-in half-out of the exit lane, apparently standing still, so I move to go around it. Unfortunately, it must have started moving as I went past, because when I pulled in front of it, the driver started whaling on their horn. Not the short, "Oy, watch out" kind of beep, but the long, drawn-out, "You hit my car, asshole!" beeps. Thing was, I hadn't hit them (I've hit things in my car in the past, I'm pretty sure I know what it feels like) and while I felt bad for cutting them off, I wasn't going to get out of the car just so they could yell at me - especially not after glancing in the rearview mirror and seeing the woman in the passenger's seat apparently having an aneurysm, she was that upset. I noticed her taking a picture of my license plate with her phone, but I'm not sure what she plans to do with it - she's not going to find it on Google, and even if she's a State drone and has access to the DMV database my record's pretty spotless (plus, I doubt the police are going to care that someone cut her off in a parking lot). Maybe she'll post it to a road rage website?

Frankly, I feel sorry for her more than anything - they must've been having a pretty awful day to get that upset over something that minor. Or have serious trigger issues around driving. Or both. Whatever the case, I don't envy them.

Okay, time for the shower I've been waiting for all day. Huzzah!

I realize that abortion is a hot-button issue and everyone's got an opinion on it, and that's fine, but...

...when one posts a link to an article relating to a very specific aspect of the whole debate, is it completely bollocks to think that people might read and think about the content of that article, and respond to the content of the article rather than just posting their opinion about abortion in general?

There are plenty of forums to express opinions on abortion, and I'm more than familiar with most of the arguments one way or another. Frankly, the reason I posted the link was because I was interested in getting people's thoughts on the specific subject of the article, which brought up an idea not often seen in the debate. Instead, it seems everyone just saw the word "abortion" (and maybe "Tiller") and gave a knee-jerk Pavlovian reaction.

Maybe I'm expecting a bit much from folks on the Internet - I know a lot of people don't go to LiveJournal to think. But still, it's a bit discouraging seeing how easily manipulated people's feelings can be (and I'm including myself here, I know I'm prone to it too) just by bringing up one or two loaded terms. It's why I always make doubly sure to rethink anything I might say regarding a subject I feel strongly about, because it's so very easy to get wrapped up in your feelings and completely miss the actual point someone might be trying to make.

I've seen this picture on no fewer than five different ads for various moneymaking schemes - the "work from home cashing checks" one, the "get an Obama stimulus check" one, the "make money posting links on Google" one, and a couple of others I can't recall offhand. Every single time, it's accompanied by a different set of names and backstory, usually something to do about "This is my wife and me on vacation/in front of our new house/doing XYZ with the money we made". Psychologically speaking, providing a picture of attractive people of roughly the social class/age/race that you're targeting isn't a bad idea, as people respond more strongly to faces than text, and more positively to faces of people they perceive as being "like them". But I find myself wondering where, exactly, the picture came from - is it the scammer? Someone in his family? Some random couple who, through chance, ended up with their faces plastered all over various scam advertisements? How old is it? What were the actual circumstances under which it was taken? (Also, am I going to get a nasty note from the owner of the scam site for hotlinking and stealing his bandwidth?)

The other bit that amuses me about those ads is the way they're specifically targeted to read your IP and insert the name of your hometown in the text = "My name is Scott and I grew up in the Juneau, AK area". Again, classic affinity scam trick - but I find it particularly amusing in my case because Juneau's a pretty small town, and if someone from here was making $10,000 a month posting links on Google they probably would have made the local paper.

Two and a half hours of dancing with CJ and Monica and Justin. It would have been closer to one and a half, except that the DJ waited until I was already fairly tired before playing five of my favorite songs. Back to back. Which, since I'd been waiting to hear them all night, I of course had to dance to. In a row.

It was awesome.

(God do my feet hurt.)

When talking about honeymoon plans, Brian and I were pretty much deciding between London and Hawaii destination-wise. I do very much want to see London, but given the costs involved in getting there (not to mention the horrendous exchange rate) we decided to go to Hawaii instead.

So of course, the very day we're planning to buy tickets, Brian gets an email from British Airways saying "Seattle to London, Business Class, $1700 - buy one get one free!"

Life is so unfair.