It’s my party; and I’ll cry if I want too….

(you all know the tune)…you’d cry to if it happened to you. Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeechkkkkk (sound of needle ripping across record album as the record player is kicked out the window).

I’m holding the letter in my hand. I read it twice. Three times. Four times, because my brain can’t process the words on the page. I can’t fathom the shear level of stupidity it represents. Finally it sinks in and my blood pressure starts to rise….

Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrg! Whatthefuck? One box? You gotta be kidding me!

I just got the official approval letter for the CGM sensors from Pres. I’ve been approved, all right. For one box of sensors. You read that right. One lousy box. I’ve been paying out of pocket for going on two years. I finally get my insurance on board. For only one box. It’s so infuriating it’s almost funny. Almost.

Well, the British burned our capital once upon a time, but we still won the war of 1812 and our two countries are now the best of friends, so I guess this could still have a happy ending. But ONE box????

Oh yes, and on the bottom of the letter, in bold type, it says: Presbyterian Health Plan—working to improve your health.

Uh huh.