The Day I Ranted My Way Through

I exhaled in frustration as I slammed down the phone. "My idiotic insurance company won't refill the birth control pills because it's been less than 1 calendar month since my last request! It's a 28-day cycle! I take 28 pills! The Romans chose 30 and 31 days - this is hardly my irresponsible use creating the problem!"

"That's frustrating," my sister said as she deftly deflected the rant.

"It's doubly frustrating because I hate the stupid pills and I'm only taking them because I was faced with a choice between taking the pills or dying from ovarian cancer! I had to choose - get fat because of birth control or grow tumors because I haven't had a baby!"I had picked up the rant again at work where I knew I would receive more sympathy.

Several of the medical professionals laughed. It's not the first time they've heard the "I hate birth control" rant. It's not the concept I mind - it's the product. Ever since I learned about the way birth control interacts in the body, I knew I hated the little pills. Playing fast and loose with evolution when we're only guessing how the female body works? No way. Not for me. I was going to use alternative methods and stop the progression of ovarian cancer the old fashioned way: have a baby.

Only one problem....well, as I've reported, this year I learned that I am 1) not what men want in any way, shape, or form; and 2) my ovaries are aging more rapidly than most women so I am at very high risk for reproductive cancers (and likely losing fertility very fast). So, look at me be all screwed and not screwed at the same time. As I burst into tears about the irony and pain and what-not at my GYN appointment, she gently suggested that I would probably prefer not to add the irony of dying in my 40s from ovarian disease so I should probably rethink my position on the dreaded little pills.

I stormed out of the room intent on continuing my original plan, and if I couldn't find a man, well, I could purchase sperm. Then I made two other not fun realizations: 1) If ever my liberal family opposed an idea, this was it; and 2) watching their spinster aunt die from ovarian disease would probably not teach my beloved nieces to love and respect their reproductive organs. So, in a fit of pique, I called and submitted to the pills.

I hate them. Truly. I hate them. The progesterone makes me bitchy and the estrogen has made me fat. My cholesterol increased. I retain water like mad. On the flip side, the gynecologic problems abated, so I take them....moodily. Since I had to get a refill order FAXed from my doctor, I decided to complain about the pills to her, "So, I'm not dying of ovarian cancer, but I'm a fat bitch who will soon have a heart attack!"

My doctor laughed. She's been through a bit with me. "How about we try another pill at a half-dose since you don't need pregnancy prevention?"

I agreed and we went back to the original problem - the stupid insurance company. My doctor asked, "What did you tell the company when you talked to them?"

I smiled. "I told them that they should probably take it up with evolution, since she had the very financially unfeasible plan of having human reproductive cycles follow the lunar cycle rather than the Roman Calendar."

My doctor laughed again. "Did she not realize that healthcare was expensive? The moon is always so reckless about the economic health of a superpower."

I hung up the phone and began the rant about healthcare insurance anew. "A product we're not supposed to use! A product we're punished for using! Who the hell thought that up?!"

A newcomer had entered the room and was not ignoring my verbal explosion. "Oh, really, how would you change it?"

The rest of my office grew quiet (a few even left) as they sensed round 2 wherein I outlined my call for Utopia and railed against anyone who naysayed my beautiful and idealistic views. I decided to go noble. "I can't say I know everything but it would most certainly involve being able to refill a prescription when needed."

My audience laughed. Yeah, they're right. I would never be that easy to please. Especially not when I'm on progesterone.