Patsy Cline said it best: "Crazy"

Here I am, 2:31pm, home and already had my second cup 'o java for the afternoon (I had 2 this morning before leaving for work, and I cheated and had a small (6oz.) cup of BLACK coffee at work...). Apparently I'm working my addiction up to a full pot of coffee a day. And, to think, I'd been doing so well at only having one measly little cup (black!) in the morning before going to work. I've tried to quit coffee, go it the 'tea' way...but let's call a spade a spade: living among roosters as I do, working, having the PEANUT (note: the caps is on purpose)...facing the day without waking up to the smell of syrupy thick espresso strength coffee, to be guzzled by the 12 oz. mug, is like asking me if I'd like a visit from Jack Kevorkian (life without coffee? yes, pencil him in at 3...). So much for the reduction of caffeine. On to bigger things:

I love my Peanut. Peanutzilla; the Chubber calls her "peanut-butter", B.J. often calls her a pain in the _________ (fill in the blank: neck, butt, etc...). I do. I love her so much, I often go into the 'red' caring for her and all of her various needs. I do without, so does B.J. and the Chubb, though the latter doesn't yet realize it. Ask me how long it has been since I had a whole-hog, pull-out-the-stops-vacation. I'll tell you: I don't rightly remember. Far. Too. Long. Ago. After all, I'm the girl who buys (bought) airline tickets to Europe or Hawaii on a spur-of-the-moment 'this price is too good not to buy it' whim. Sigh. Those days are looonnng gone. I'd like to be able to go to the salon every 6 weeks and get my highlights done without my mental abacus going into guilt and worry about bills overdrive, and so I don't look like the bus driver from South Park; I'd like to be able to go shopping once in a while without feeling like I'm going over the precipice and landing us into debt. I'd like to stay in the black, but it just seems like it isn't gonna happen.

Already, this month alone, we're up to about $200 in medical co-pays for Peanut, and it isn't even the end of the month yet. Not to mention, the $2,000 invoice from OHSU that we received the other day that we may be 100% responsible for (maybe the insurance will pay it, maybe it won't. I think that BCBS uses a 'magic 8-ball' to decide on what it pays out on.).

Back to the Peanut, and, more specifically our current situation: Her psychiatrist has recommended we take her to a psychologist (main difference: the former is an M.D., the latter is a Ph.D.) for 'neuropsychological evaluation....[to] rule out other neuropsych dysfunction; to include IQ/LD'. Blah, bluh, bla? Yes. I know, it is partly Greek to me, as well. Basically, we want to find out a baseline for Peanut's cognitive performance. The psychiatrist doesn't do that kind of testing, the psychologist does. So, off I go with referral in hand.

Cha-ching.

The referral we've got in our hot little hands is for an out of network provider. Translation: mucho dinero. I, of course, don't have to have this testing done, but being the compulsive problem-solving mama that I am, I am going to. Because, after all, if this sheds more light on Peanut and how to deal with her 'quirks' I'm all for it. But! It all comes at a price.

The evaluation Peanut needs will run the gamut of $1,200-$2,000, quote that the psychologist gave me over the phone.

Choke-to-death. [insert gagging and vomiting noises here]

The insurance will pay up to 70% of what they deem 'usual and customary fees' (after I've paid my $300 deductible). In normal human being speech that means they will decide what a doctor should charge, and based on what the insurance deems to be the 'appropriate' charge, they will pay up to 70%. So, if they say this type of testing should cost, for simplicity, $10, then 70% of 'usual and customary' would mean they pay $7, leaving me to pay 30% of the balance, or $3. Sounds relatively simple, but when you're dealing with multiple zeroes after the numbers it gets a bit more...hmm...how shall I say it...distressing. Furthermore, if Peanut's psychologist doesn't charge $10 for the testing, but charges $17 for the testing, the insurance still only ponies-up $7, and I'm left with the balance of $10. So, basically I'm a bit on the screwed side.

What is a parent to do? What I always do: try to do the best I can by my peanut. I continue to mumble and grumble over medical costs--but I'm lucky: I at least have insurance. Some folks aren't so lucky, and once upon a time in the recent past I was one of those folks who didn't have insurance...and by God, did I pray I didn't get sick.

I continue to be more and more political; I follow the insurance legislation for my state. I send letters to my representatives and legislators. I've been scheduled to testify in front of the legislature before (though the meeting was cancelled). All in the name of providing my daughter with the necessary medical care she needs to live the fullest and most productive life she can live. So that my husband and I can have some semblance of normalcy in our family: we know and remember all to well what life was like before Peanut had the appropriate therapies and help; life with an untreated child like my girl is sheer hell.

So, the song that plays in my mind's Mp3 player, today, would have to be Patsy Cline's "Crazy," because I'm crazy in love with my girl.