Tag Archives: Tumer Willis

Happy Obamacare Ruling Eve, Everybody! [updated]

I’m on pins and needles waiting for this Obamacare ruling. Depending on what happens tomorrow, I either have to schedule brain surgery sometime before October (when my COBRA runs out) or not.  If not — if the law is upheld — then I can go without insurance for 6 months, and then join one of them fancy health exchanges for people with broken mind-heads and other pre-existing conditions.

Sigh.

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Rick Santorum is Spewing Stupid Crap About Healthcare Coverage

Throwing the sick under the bus.

 Rick Santorum made some asinine statements about healthcare. Surprise!

During a town hall in Keene, New Hampshire this morning, Rick Santorum told a mother whose son survived cancer that people with pre-existing conditions should pay more for health care coverage because they make poor health care choices. While specifically exempting the woman’s child from personal blame, Santorum insisted that the sick cost more to insure and insurers should charge them higher premiums:

MOTHER: The comments I heard you make in New Hampshire, comments that you support insurance companies’ right to refuse to insure people with pre-existing conditions and that you also agreed with higher premiums for people who are sick, well my son graduated college and I pray that he gets a good job. Why is it alright for him to possibly be denied health care insurance or have to possibly pay a fee that he would not be able to afford or for a company not to hire him because he was five years old and he had cancer? …

SANTORUM: Insurance works when people who are higher risk end up having to pay more, as they should. In your case, your son obviously did nothing wrong. Obviously there are a lot of other people that increased their health risk that did do things wrong and as a result, it resulted in higher health care costs.

As a person with a pre-existing condition, I’d like to flip Rick Santorum the bird. Continue reading

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Breast Cancer, PPACA, and a Change of Heart About President Obama

Obamacares.

LA Times featured an op-ed yesterday that is a must-read:

I want to apologize to President Obama. But first, some background.

I found out three weeks ago I have cancer. I’m 49 years old, have been married for almost 20 years and have two kids. My husband has his own small computer business, and I run a small nonprofit in the San Fernando Valley. I am also an artist. Money is tight, and we don’t spend it frivolously. We’re just ordinary, middle-class people, making an honest living, raising great kids and participating in our community, the kids’ schools and church.

We’re good people, and we work hard. But we haven’t been able to afford health insurance for more than two years. And now I have third-stage breast cancer and am facing months of expensive treatment.

To understand how such a thing could happen to a family like ours, I need to take you back nine years to when my husband got laid off from the entertainment company where he’d worked for 10 years. Until then, we had been insured through his work, with a first-rate plan. After he got laid off, we got to keep that health insurance for 18 months through COBRA, by paying $1,300 a month, which was a huge burden on an unemployed father and his family.

By the time the COBRA ran out, my husband had decided to go into business for himself, so we had to purchase our own insurance. That was fine for a while. Every year his business grew. But insurance premiums were steadily rising too. More than once, we switched carriers for a lower rate, only to have them raise rates significantly after a few months. Continue reading

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Balloon Juice: Derp and Fail.

This post relates to my post yesterday about Michael Moore’s racist comments.

I posted this at Balloon Juice and it’s not at all applicable here (since people don’t act the fool here), but –

I’m posting it here anyway:

So let me get this straight: A blogger who regularly traffics in perceived racial slights and calls herself Angry Black Lady is shocked, SHOCKED that she elicits racially-tinged and/or racist comments. And she wants everybody to knock it off. Except for her.

This is a big reason why I always skip over any post with her name attached to it. But I guess that makes me a hater too.

I guess the ban will commence in 3…2…1…

On reading this, the umpteenth example of a race-baiting post by the non-ironically named Angry Black Lady, I have to conclude that Angry Black Lady really hates being black. Sorry, no two ways around it.

You’re the daughter of a mixed-race couple? Then you’re not really an angry Black lady, are you? You’re an angry biracial lady, and I think you owe all true angry black ladies an apology. You’re certainly in no position to be demanding an apology on behalf of a racial group to which you don’t actually belong except if one accepts the sketchy standards of racist slaveholders.

By the way, it is fucking funny.

I’ve said it before, but I’ll say it again:

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On my Retirement and Return to Balloon Juice

Sooooooo… what has everyone been up to?

I don’t care, let’s talk about me –

Let’s see, I found out my tumor grew; I’m pre-diabetic; I’m (according to my endocrinologist) a little bit pregnant (meaning my prolactin levels are elevated and twice what they were the last time I was checked; high prolactin level means, essentially, that my body thinks it is stuck in the first trimester of pregnancy); and I have thyroid issues. Meanwhile, I got laid off for “economic reasons” (and won’t say anything more about it until I’ve negotiated my severance).

One might think that life is trying to make me eat a giant Shit Sandwich, but I like to think of it as life trying to make me eat a Destiny Donut. I’ve decided that I am going to retire from the law and focus on writing. Over the course of my last two jobs my tumor has grown two millimeters, and I’m fairly certain continuing to practice law would eventually kill me. Besides, I’ve always wanted to proclaim majestically that I am retiring from something; like gymnasts when they turn 16. So that’s what I am doing. I hath retired! And a week before my ten-year reunion, too.

I’m going to live a calmer gentler life — hence the “ABL” change; ABL sounds more pleasant and friendly, while still suggesting a rage bubbling just beneath the surface of whisky and high blood sugar. So, much to the delight of some and the chagrin of others, I’m back, bitches!

I think this will be fun. At least for me. I get to explore new and interesting ways to incorporate hyphens, em dashes, and semi-colons into my posts while living off my nest egg and haunting your dreams.

[cross-posted yesterday at Balloon Juice]

Angry and Black: Even Visual Thesaurus Agrees

Somebody’s collar is about to get popped, yo.


Tumer Willis… she has been activated.  As such, I’m trying to decide whether to set something on fire, stab something, or stab something while at the same time setting that very thing on fire.  I’m angry, is what I’m saying, albeit irrationally and hormonally so (probably Minotaurally, too).

And thanks to Visual Thesaurus (a program that is the coolest fucking program I’ve ever used in my entire life, and no, I’m not exaggerating, and yes I’m a big word nerd), I can say that Tumer is making me not only angry, but also wrothful, irascible, umbrageous, and smouldering (with or without unnecessary U!), choleric, and hot under the collar, which leads me to wonder: If you are hot under the collar, but you are wearing more than one collar,  are you hot under each collar?  Or just, like, the bottom collar?

I’m only asking, because this guy:

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Another Tumor Tirade

Blue Shield: Thank you, and bite me.

Unnecessary apostrophes also suck.

Well the seemingly impossible became possible.  After 4 weeks of wrangling, and a trip to a voodoo doctor (who I’m fairly certain would have slipped me a mickey and stolen one of my kidneys, leaving me to freeze in a bathtub full of ice had I not pepper sprayed her in the face and hightailed it out of her office), I finally got approved to see the pituitary specialist at Cedars-Sinai who is hopefully going to fix my mind-head.

My medical group, as it turns out, is the worst.  How do I know this?  Because during one of my numerous conversations with her, the nurse at my primary care physician’s office said to me, 

“This medical group is the worst.”

She would know.  She’s been on the phone with them seventy-eleven times over the past few weeks yelling at them to find me a pituitary specialist.  (Bless her heart.  Her name is Angel, coincidentally enough.)  Angel actually recommended that I switch medical groups due to the aforementioned sucktasticity.   Unfortunately, by the time I realized that I should indeed switch medical groups, it would have made a further mess of what was already an epic mess; my health plan permits me to switch medical groups only at the end of the month and had I done so, I would have had to start from ground zero with  a new primary care physician, new bloodwork and lab tests, new authorization forms, and all the other stuff that makes me want to blow my brains right out of the back of my head.

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Blue Shield is Trying to Kill Me

Today, I had what some might describe as a traumatic health care experience. I like to describe it as “fucking ridiculous.”

abl-blueshieldsucks

Poo, indeed

I’ve got this little bastard of a tumor in my head. Y’all all probably know that by now. You’re probably all like “yeah, pituitary tumor, blah blah blah. Just shut up about it already.” And that’s when I’ll be like, “No, YOU FIRST!” And then you’ll look at me in a confused manner because let’s face it, what I just said doesn’t make any fucking sense.

But let’s carry on anyway, shall we?

I’ve been wrangling with my insurance company for a couple weeks now, trying to get them to find me a damn endocrinologist who can give me some damn information about my damn tumor.

I like to refer to my tumor as “Tumer Willis” because 1) I’m AWESOME; 2) I just thought of it; and 3) I can avoid making another Kindergarten Cop joke.

For some stupid reason, as of last week, my Blue Shield-assigned medical group had only one endocrinologist in-network. So I got a referral to see the lone endocrinologist, Dr. X. Well turns out that Dr. X is not a pituitary specialist. He’s a diabetes specialist.  Which I exactly don’t have.

So, I manage to get an emergency appointment with a top notch endocrinologist at Cedars-Sinai (also known as the place where Britney went after she lost her shit.) After much wrangling with Blue Shield (I wrangled and my primary care physician wrangled and even her nurse wrangled), I got nowhere.  But suddenly (of course) they magically found another endocrinologist in-network: The mysterious Dr. Suk.  So I get a referral for Dr. Suk.

crazy doctor

Would you go here for medical care? I did.

Things didn’t bode well when I called Dr. Suk to make an appointment and was informed that I could “stop by” between 2 and 6 in the afternoon.

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Tumor Tales: Kaiser Sucks

HMOs Make My Head Explode

If there are two things that you, dear readers, know about Angry Black Lady, it’s that she’s Angry and she’s Black.

Well, here’s a fun fact you might not know.  Angry Black Lady has a brain tumor.  It’s actually not a brain tumor, but it is a tumor, and it’s in my head, and let’s face it– Angry Black Lady gets more sympathy mileage when she says brain tumor.  Pituitary tumor, or, for the medically-inclined, microprolactinoma, just doesn’t have the same ring to it.

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Annoying Voice Mail Lady Strikes Again

You’ve Got to Be Fucking Kidding Me.

I’m sitting at work, minding my own business; trying to hammer out a bunch of work so I can go home to my husband, Glenlivet, and my phone rings.  Now, I normally do not pick up the phone unless I recognize the number.  And even then, I’m unlikely to pick up the phone because I hate talking on the phone.  HATE.IT.

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