Guilty Feet Have Got No Rhythm.
Now, I am new to this, but from what I can tell, the first part of an IVF cycle is entirely spent making phone calls and being placed on hold. Who knew? If you had told me before this process began that in order to have a baby I would have to listen to smooth jazz several times every day for twenty minute intervals, I do not know whether I would have had the courage to proceed. Two weeks ago most of my hold time was spent with my primary insurance company. Last week it was split between my clinic and my prescription plan insurance vendor. This week, if this morning is any indication, will be spent on hold at the specialty pharmacy handling my medications, with occasional sojourns to the University Department of Hemotology and my clinic.
Being on hold is never pleasant, but it is made less so when in order to make the call you hiked a grueling ten minutes from your desk to a private phone room. I could use the phone at my desk if I didn’t mind my entire team being privy to my reproductive plans, but the last thing I need if this cycle fails is a gaggle of coworkers asking whether I am pregnant, which would likely result in bloodshed and possible criminal charges.
So let me walk you through the process of making a call:
1. Schlep up two flights and across vast building to private phone room
2. Dial number
3. Sit on hold for 15-20 minutes while doodling on scrap of paper (doodles grow progressively violent)
4. Reach live, human representative
5. Ascertain that live, human representative is unable to answer your question
6. Live Human Representative offers to call you back after conferring with mysterious Supervisor
7. Trek back to desk, wishing for kindly corporate Sherpa to carry your Fresca
8. Wait for call
9. Wait for call with crossed legs, afraid to leave desk
10. Dash desperately to bathroom
11. Return to find red message light blinking—Live Human Representative left phone number, but no information
12. Repeat steps 1-11
Alternate ending:
10. Do NOT dash for the bathroom, instead remaining at desk all day while bladder becomes painfully distended
11. LHR never calls
12. Repeat steps 1-11 the next morning, seething at entire previous day spent fruitlessly waiting for response
Things are complicated somewhat today by the fact that I just noticed that I have a spot on my pants—right on my ass. Its provenance is uncertain, but the most likely explanation is that I sat on something delectable in my haste to consume it. This spot makes the walk to the private phone room seem even longer, as I slink along certain I will come to be known as The Girl Who Soiled Herself.
Now, I realize that for many people, it is the 50+ injections involved in an IVF cycle that make them resent the ease with which fertile people reproduce, but I envy more the lack of time spent on the phone alternately listening to a saxophone play Careless Whispers and arguing with the bored, possibly illiterate staff of insurance companies. In fact, I have heard a rumor that fertile women may procreate without receiving insurance authorization at all! Probably an urban legend, I know.
15 Comments
Oy! Good thing someone invented red wine then, eh?
X Artblog
have i told you lately that i find you hilarious?
Corporate Sherpas would be nice!
LOL! Making a baby costs blood, sweat and tears … and phone calls. :-)
Oh, dealing with insurance companies is just the worst. You have my utmost sympathies!
Oh dear god the phone calls nearly drove me nuts. I experienced your steps 1-11 but I was very lucky in that the private phone room was right around the corner – just after the kitchen but right before the bathroom. I could get so much done en route.
Great, Now I am going to hum this song all night. Baby Makin the High Tech way is SO much less pleasurable
Two days ago I seriously sat on hold and listened to “Baby Got Back.” At WORK. I still can’t remember who I was holding for. But I think it was Jazzy Jeff.
Step 3 is pure genius.
4,5 and 6 seem extremely familiar.
You have my sympathies too. I hate dealing with my insurance company.
Unfortunately, I don’t have a private phone room. I have to take my cell phone around to one of my hospital’s entrances, try to accomplish my business while furtively glancing around me to make sure someone I know doesn’t walk by (it’s a small hospital; someone I know ALWAYS walks by), and then sneak back to my desk whilst trying to hide the fact that I’m using company time to make private calls. Ah, the joys of working in an office.
And really, some fertiles should be required to get authorization of some sort.
Yes, the legwork blows, but the versed makes it all worthwhile.
Oh – those freakin’ phone calls. I hate them and feel your pain. I always tell the person whom I finally get that I can’t be called back as I’m in a private room and can’t be there all day. Sometimes they have sympathy on me and patch me right through.
The truth is, there’s nothing we can do to get away from those damn wait times. Even when you do finally have a baby (and you will, I’m just sure), when they get a little older, you’ll get to make phone calls to the baby doctor from your cubicle where they will invariably ask, “Is there mucus? Where is it coming from? What color is the mucus?” Try answering that in cubicle hushed tones.
hahahaha!
I totally want a Corporate Sherpa. And a Fresca. And a Mr. Clean Magic Mind Eraser, to get George Michael out of my head.