Hi peeps. I'm currently working on what we all love...an entertaining blog. It's in my other window actually. But I figured I should bring you Debbie Downer news. Because I can't be a fucking ray of sunshine all the time, can I?
Remember my insurance battle in the spring, when I was trying to fight insurance to pay for that autopsy that they said they didn't cover since it didn't enrich anyone?
Well, I got my ultimate, final, no further discussion allowed decision.
It may as well have said "fuck off."
It was a nice form letter. The only personalized part was my name (which they spelled right this time, good for them), the term "your still born," & their reason for rejection. Are you ready for this? Hold onto your seats, people!
They decided that the autopsy was considered medical research, which they do not cover.
Silly fucking PEIA. I may just write a letter telling them to fuck off. Not that it will do anything & I realize it's wrong & inappropriate...but really?
How many people can actually look at what changed their lives forever? Because this pile of papers? It changed everything.
I go through those records all the time. I'm looking for something, anything. I'm googling words, piecing things together, thinking I can find it. I can find the answer somewhere in there. But all I find are dead ends, which leave my chest feeling tight. Even if I think I have the answer or find a reason for everything, I can't do anything about it. I can't change it. I can't even be sure or prove that it's the answer. So it'd bring me no real peace. But that doesn't stop me from trying. But the only thing I can ever make real heads or tails about is the just over $8,000 price tag those 2 fun filled days in the hospital cost me.
Of course I do avoid parts of it. Like this part.
All but one nurse called him "the infant." This one though, she called him the "dead NB" which means dead newborn, if you couldn't figure it out. Yeah, I know I throw around the dead baby phrase all the time, but I can. It's my baby. My baby died. Calling him "the dead NB" & documenting my every action with him? It almost seems dirty, in the very least it's just not the right phrase to use. It makes things seem weird, creepy, & extra sad.
I miss him. But I never really knew him to miss him. So I miss the invisible person...the invisible person I think about every time I take a picture of Jules & Blair. I think of how old he'd be & where he'd be in that picture. It seems like in many of those pictures there is too much blank space. A place he could be. But like every other dream or situation that went through my head, it's not real. And sometimes I feel like he wasn't either.
The sun will come out tomorrow, right?
Side note...I've not lost my mind, I do realize I mentioned it in passing a couple entries ago, but I figured it deserved it's own entire post. The medical records just added to it.