Girl, the tariffs.

So yesterday I went to the gastroenterologist. Hot, sexy, cool girl shit. Why? How much do you want to know? All of it? Okay, great.

Basically, for the entirety of my adult life, I’ve had gut issues. They started in college, probably due to my terrible diet, stress, lack of sleep, etc. etc. College kid vibes. Anyway, I saw a GI doc then and they basically took one look at me and said I needed to switch up my diet, be more responsible with my health, and then it would all go away. It took a minute, but eventually I listened. As of my twenty-fifth birthday (September 2023), I’ve been Nicotine-free. 2024 was a year of reckonings, one of which was with my own self-care. I started paying more attention to eating balanced meals, exercising regularly, doing the things that adults are supposed to do. I kept waiting for my gut to catch up, for the pain to fade away slowly, but it never did.

E, you might be thinking, if it’s hurt you all this time, why are you only now going to the doctor? Great question! For one thing, I didn’t have health insurance for a few years there. See, in this great nation, health insurance is stupid fucking expensive. When I was teaching, it was more affordable, but as a teacher all of my time had to go into teaching. I didn’t prioritize my health because I felt like I couldn’t prioritize it. Besides, I was young and healthy enough. So I’d been living with bowel issues for years…what did it matter, really?

When I quit teaching, I started taking my health more seriously. I finally enrolled in health insurance for the low cost of almost $350/mo (thanks, America!), and I figured if I was paying that much for my insurance, I might as well use it, right? So I scheduled a meeting with a primary care doctor for the first time in almost four years and in early May, I went in for my meeting with her.

It took her about two minutes to tell me I needed to see a psych and a GI doctor ASAP.

She talked me through the process, gave me my referrals, and sent me on my way. I waited in waiting rooms alone then talked to doctors who deadnamed me after asking what I wanted to be called as they took my blood. They ran like 50 tests on my blood and poop and found nothing. Finally, yesterday morning, I drove to Annapolis and saw a GI who told me that he was worried about what I was telling him. He explained a lot of things I forgot because I don’t speak doctor and one thing I do: that I needed a colonoscopy.

He walked me to the scheduling office, and they got me on the calendar for this Thursday, June 6th. I smiled my way through the scheduling, then asked the receptionist the same thing I always do when a doctor tells me I need something: how much is this going to cost?

She told me the same thing receptionists always do: she doesn’t work in billing, but billing would call me later that day to walk me through it.

Billing did not, in fact, call me to walk me through it.

Instead, I got a bill delivered by text after the office had closed. How much would the procedure cost me? $300 of copay and a bill of $674.67. Almost $1000 on top of the $350/mo I’ve been paying monthly.

Immediately, I panicked and tried to call the office to confirm, which is how I found out they’d sent me the bill after they closed (at 3:30PM???). I left messages at both the surgery office and the billing office, both of whom didn’t get back to me. Long story short, I’m not getting out of this colonoscopy or its thousand dollar price tag.

I’m almost at the part of this piece that’s making me nauseous. Almost.

A couple months back, I wrote to you with joy telling you I’d been accepted to the CalArts M.F.A. program and would be moving to California. At the time, I thought I had a contract lined up for remote work that I was factoring into my funding for the program. Keyword: thought. I signed on the dotted line for CalArts, paid the deposit, and locked myself in for this next chapter.

Then a week went by and I didn’t hear from the client. I emailed to check in. Another week went by with no word. I texted them. Nothing. Two more weeks passed. I texted and emailed again. Another two texts later, I couldn’t ignore the sinking feeling in my gut (no pun intended) anymore. I realized, with not a little bit of terror, that I had been ghosted. And with the client went basically half of my funding for school.

Since I’ve accepted that this client was no longer going to be in the picture, I’ve cut pretty much every non-essential expense, putting every penny I can into a savings account to try to give myself some kind of safety net. I’ve managed to put away about $6000. After the move, which I’m budgeting will cost me about $3500, that leaves me with $2500 to start with when I arrive in California. Oh, wait. Forgot about the colonoscopy. $1500.

Most places I’m looking at living in California are a minimum of $1500 for rent, which means I’ve got just about enough money to pay a security deposit and then I’m clean out of cash. I’ve got credit cards, but they’re already almost half used up. And you better believe I’m already tapping all the people I know in LA to try to set up some kind of work for when I get there, whether that’s a PA position on a movie set or a bartending gig or an In N Out drive thru girlboss. I’ve already appealed to CalArts for more funding, secured a TA position with them for the fall, applied to over twenty scholarships (and will continue to apply through the summer), and committed to working an on-campus job to help pay the bills. But it’s still not enough.

(Here it comes. Gulp.)

I don’t know where else to turn, so I’m turning to you. I’ve started this GoFundMe for the move, with a goal of $3500 to cover the cost of relocation (I’ll be road tripping across the country to save money). If you have disposable income and want to throw a few coins my way to help me out, I’d be so grateful.

I’ve been working on my filming and editing skills in preparation for the road trip across the country, too, and I plan to film the journey and share that with you when it’s time. So if it makes a difference, you’ll be able to see my whole trip and in at least one sense come with me!

Okay, I’m starting to have a hard time swallowing and my heart rate is picking up, so I think I’m gonna stop typing now. If you read this far, I appreciate you, and if you choose to donate, I hope you know how truly grateful I am for your support.

Til soon,

E