There the IUD was, floating free and easy as a butterfly in my abdominal cavity — and most DEFINITELY not safely ensconced in my uterus, protecting me from pregnancy as advertised.
It was during Thanksgiving break of what was supposed to be my final semester of college.
I mention to a friend that I was dropped by Kaiser. She looks at me and says “What are you doing for insurance?”
Your genetics are not a life sentence; they are your call to action.
When my husband asked me to marry him, on his knees in the Rubin Museum, I said “Yes, on one condition. Get a colonoscopy. Like, before our wedding.”
A hospital is a strange land, but if you respect their customs, perhaps your husband will make it out — of course he will come out alive.
I did my Open Enrollment! Get yours done before Dec. 15!
I’m hyper-aware of the fact that my fingers touch the elevator button and then accidentally touch my face. Or the fact that I accidentally sit on my bed with the same jeans I’ve worn on the train.
Mine is! But I’m also losing out-of-network coverage.
One day in December, I got mysteriously ill. I’ll spare you the details, but let’s just say that I was suddenly spending a LOT of time on the toilet.