neverbeencool

I promise, this will be the last Dear-Diary type post for the foreseeable future. Just felt the need to throw out a quick follow-up to yesterday’s cheer-fest.

So after Ani went to bed last night, we tackled our woes the American way: with booze. Oh, alcohol! Is there any problem you can’t solve? After a wee dram of Scotch, things started looking up in the world.

(And Chris, to answer your question from last week? No, I hadn’t tried The Macallan. Not until last night, anyway. Very nice.)

I finally had a chance to sit the Boy down and force him to watch one of the best scifi movies ever, and, as I’d hoped, he seemed to give it the props it deserves. Always love it when 20+ year old movies manager to live up to expectations. Sure, the hair, music, and some of the effects look a little dated, but you seriously can’t go wrong with lines like this:

REESE
Listen. And understand. That terminator is out there. It can’t be bargained with. It can’t be reasoned with. It doesn’t feel pity, or remorse, or fear. And it absolutely will not stop, ever, until you are dead.

Ok, so that’s a great example of “lines that suck on the page but that kick hard fucking ass when delivered.” Whatever. Point is, Ren seemed to enjoy it for the most part, which means that I shouldn’t have any problems getting him primed for T2 (which I’ve totally been jonesing for ever since I mentioned it the other day).

Quick sidebar… How is it that the biggest action heroes of the 80s had the pussiest names ever? Would you really be afraid if someone in high school told you that “Arnold” was looking for you, or that “Sylvester” was totally going to kick your ass later?

And “Bruce?” Big fat ‘mo name.

But even The Macallan and The Terminator can’t compete with the call we got this morning.

Quick background for those of you out of the loop…

Anikka, our four-year-old daughter and the sweetest thing EVER, was born with a fairly large congenital nevus on her left cheek. Basically, the thing is like a birthmarky-mole hybrid that, in addition to the looks/comments, comes with a slightly increased risk for melanoma.*

For the last several years, we’ve debated what to do about it. We considered “nothing,” but the cancer risk coupled with the reactions from other kids (and ass-hat adults)* convinced us that wasn’t the best route.

So we tried various laser therapies with a great doctor in Sacramento, but, after about a half dozen or so procedures, we gave up. The costs were adding up pretty quickly (airfare for 3 to Sacramento + rental car + missed day of work every month + $500 per procedure for each zappin’), and the whole process was just plain exhausting. Imagine walking everyone up at 4am, flying to California, driving directly to the doctor, drugging your toddler, restraining her as strangers come at her face with lasers, driving back to the airport, and flying home with a little girl who’s had a really rough day and missed her nap… Now imagine doing that every month. See? Pooped.

Plus, the results just weren’t all that encouraging.

Now we’re at the final option: surgery. Or, rather, surgeries. Probably 3-6 out-patient procedures up in Seattle, during which they’ll knock our princess out, cut out small sections of the nevus, sew her back together, and wait six months for things to heal before repeating the process. That starts May 20.

Let’s just pretend that we’re not completely freaked the fuck out about the whole surgery idea, we still had to worry about the monetary angle. See, the insurance companies’ default positions on this is that “Until it turns into cancer, it’s considered ‘cosmetic.’ And we don’t cover cosmetic procedures. Come back to us when she’s dying.”

Fuckwads.

But… here’s where we finally get back to that call I mentioned:

We found out this morning that our insurance company WILL actually cover it. Furthermore, the hospital in Seattle and the doctor we met are considered part of the insurance company’s network.

You can’t see me right now, but I smile just thinking about that.

We’ve been sweating that for a few years now, having read all sorts of horror stories from others who’ve gone through this and having received less-than-optimistic answers from a couple of doctors we stalked. To officially hear that they’re coming through? Fucking rocks.

That pretty much means that the insurance company will pay for 90% of the costs, outside of our $500 deductible and $1000 annual max. Now compare that to the $20-30k we were expecting to have to cover out of our own pockets. Hot fucking damn.

Of course, it’s not all sunshines and rainbows. We still have to actually drive our daughter up to Seattle and hand her over to strangers in masks who plan to knock her unconscious and cut out pieces of her face…

And that idea makes me piddle.

*Some kids are rotten, but the adults are the worst. One actually came up to her in a Safeway once, got up in her face, and screamed “What’s wrong with your face!?!” Fucking douche bags.