IVF Costs and Financial Assistance
This past Sunday, I had lunch with a friend who I haven’t seen in a while. We were with another friend who was “in the know”, so it was hard to not break my rule of telling any more people than necessary. It was nice to talk about the pregnancy in a positive way. I tried not to make too many disclaimers regarding the eight week mark. I mentioned the IVF, not really wanting to go into that part of it, and she said her sister-in-law had just completed her first cycle with negative results. I felt a little ill thinking of someone going through that same disappointment. It’s hard, isn’t it? she asked. God, I said. It’s so hard. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.
Now, we know I’m more of a wimp than most people, and that many women go through IVF with varying degrees of bloating and discomfort and cramping. But it’s the emotional part that can be so devastating. Having to deal with filling syringes with god-knows-what hormones, sucking it up and saying you can get through it, that it’s not for so long, that it will all be worth it. And it isn’t so bad when there is a payoff. It’s easy to say it will be worth it. But the hard part is dealing with those failed attempts.
My friend said, “I don’t know how they are doing it. It’s very expensive.” Yes, indeed. R. and I were lucky. Our insurance covers four cycles of IVF in a lifetime. How’s that for pressure? This cycle we went to a doctor who didn’t take insurance. We paid for everything upfront and are now waiting (anxiously) to see how we will be reimbursed. R. and I push the insurance statements back and forth between us with a “you deal with it” shrug — this particular insurance company is quite skillful at confusion. But it is the rare insurance plan that covers IVF. I suppose there is the question of medical necessity. And there are age limits involved. Our plan doesn’t cover it if the patient is over 44. And I think that is generous, because I kick myself for waiting so long to try to get pregnant. At times I wondered who I thought I was to even try, to defy nature and my body.
Cycles run anywhere from 10K to 15K, depending on the length of treatment and extra procedures. I’m sure in some practices it is even more. The medications themselves cost hundreds WITH insurance. Without, they cost upwards of $3000. We are very lucky to have good insurance. But not everyone does, which makes all of this even more frustrating.
My friend said, “People don’t talk about this.” I recognized the awe of the uninitiated. It reminded me of why I even started this blog. I had one too many conversations where someone said, “People don’t talk about this.” I went online and found that people were certainly talking about it, but in their own circles. I am lucky enough to have friends who have dealt with this and who offered excellent recommendations (not to mention moral support).
But there are financial options. One friend told me about Columbia Presbyterian’s (Center for Reproductive Care) financial assistance program. We didn’t quality because we had coverage, but Columbia participates in the New York State Department of Health Infertility Demonstration Program, which provides assistance to insured patients without fertility coverage. I’m sure other states have these programs. They must. I told my friend about it, so she could tell her sister-in-law, who sounds like she could qualify. Columbia also offered a loan assitance program. A nice thought, but it’s hard to think about going into debt to just try to get pregnant. When I looked at those forms, I shot ahead seventeen years to when I might be filling out college loan applications. At the time I thought, wouldn’t that be nice?
