Thank you to all who took a moment to send good thoughts my way because apparently, it worked! The hospital called less than 24 hours after we were there. They had already processed our application and, in what could only be considered a miracle in my opinion, told me I would be given the 100 percent discount.
Yes, in other words, the surgery is free.
Have goosebumps? Gasp? I did. Then I started crying. Right there in the middle of a restaurant. I have already bought a box of chocolate for the woman who helped us do this. I told her I loved her and that she had made my year as well.
On Monday, I will call the surgery scheduler and get an ACTUAL SURGERY DATE. I am hoping for Oct. 1. That is when my calendar, personal and professional, will be clear enough to be out of things for at least a week, the recommended time to be down and quiet following surgery.
So, thanks guys, for helping out because the universe listened. Later that same day, I got a check I wasn't expecting and I found the chance to run over and have an x-ray I needed to have taken for my follow up kidney appointment on the 22nd.
Things are looking up. Karma strikes again.
Saturday, September 13, 2008
Thursday, September 11, 2008
Showdown at the Hospital
Well, we didn't walk in with guns drawn but we did walk in armed. I had every possible financial paper I could think of in my folder and I was armed with anger, impatience and frustration cleverly cloaked in friendly chatter, a charming smile and an eagerness to please.
They weren't thrilled we were there . . . but we got in quickly and the lady we worked with was quite sweet. I had all the papers they needed. I came up with the rest of the numbers they required. She promised me that I would have an "answer" within 5 to 7 working days. Once I have that answer, I can schedule my appointment. I promised her chocolate and flowers if she put me on the top of her list and expedited my application. She chuckled.
So, did I get the ultimate prize--a surgery date? No. But I made more progress in 30 minutes than I have in the last three months and I see a definite light at the end of the tunnel. So, I'm feeling pleased and able to hold on until the outside date of the 22nd. Of course, if nothing has come through by then, I will be back in their offices clearly without the chatter and the smile.
Keep thinking good thoughts for me, peeps.
They weren't thrilled we were there . . . but we got in quickly and the lady we worked with was quite sweet. I had all the papers they needed. I came up with the rest of the numbers they required. She promised me that I would have an "answer" within 5 to 7 working days. Once I have that answer, I can schedule my appointment. I promised her chocolate and flowers if she put me on the top of her list and expedited my application. She chuckled.
So, did I get the ultimate prize--a surgery date? No. But I made more progress in 30 minutes than I have in the last three months and I see a definite light at the end of the tunnel. So, I'm feeling pleased and able to hold on until the outside date of the 22nd. Of course, if nothing has come through by then, I will be back in their offices clearly without the chatter and the smile.
Keep thinking good thoughts for me, peeps.
Cross Your Fingers, Say a Prayer, Dance with a Naked Chicken
Whatever way you personally send a message out to the universe, please do so for Joseph and I today as we personally go in and "storm" the financial department of the hospital to see if we can FINALLY get this damn mess straightened out and get the surgery scheduled. I have a folder full of financial papers (ah, the alliteration!) to throw their way and hope that it is sufficient. It would make me one happy woman if we could figure all of this out today and I'd come home knowing that the surgery appointment was in the process. So think good thoughts and send it to whatever deity, being, concept or direction you personally choose. I will update when I can to let you know how it turned out.
Wednesday, September 10, 2008
A Question of Friends
I have found myself in a bit of a dilemma of late.
My hubby has been going to a VW group for the last year plus. He has gotten to know all the guys and they meet once a week at a local restaurant and even go on the occasional camper weekend. To date, I occasionally, and far less often, the kids, have gone with him. However, at the last meeting, several actions made it abundantly clear that I and the kids were really not welcome. A number of them went to another table and no one spoke to us except for one other wife (the only other woman, who, in my opinion, is just as ignored as I am) and one man, briefly. This weekend, Joseph was invited to go with them to a VERY, I repeat, VERY primitive campground. I honestly didn't want to go because while I can deal with outhouses, I would prefer not to have to resort to a shovel and a handy tree.
So, does the hubby go or not?
It has been a hard decision, but one I left up to him.
If you know us at all, you know and J and I are very, very close and spend most of our time together. I am TICKLED no end, however, that he has friends because he hasn't had any of his own friends for years. But I don't like that his friends ignore me and my kids and make it clear that we are not really welcome. If the meetings were once a month, no big deal. But four to five times a month? Hmmmmm. Plus, I helped him host a party for these people . . . . and even though it was my house, I still felt like I was in the way.
So, it has been a dilemma for me, because, to be honest, if I had friends who acted that way towards my spouse and kids, I wouldn't hang out with them much--if ever. Sigh.
Other news in the Orr household . .
NO, I don't have a surgery date yet. I am beginning to despair that it will ever happen.
We are actually doing a semi official homeschool curriculum for the first time in a LONG time. It's a once a month program that I created years ago with my oldest. It not only covers some basic information in all subjects but I involve lots of activities together, outside the house and so on. It also teaches some real important stuff about pacing yourself and time management. Now let's see if I can maintain it, expand on it and refrain from daily nagging.
That' s the latest for now. Work is picking up, so I am seeing light at the end of the tunnel again. Whew.
My hubby has been going to a VW group for the last year plus. He has gotten to know all the guys and they meet once a week at a local restaurant and even go on the occasional camper weekend. To date, I occasionally, and far less often, the kids, have gone with him. However, at the last meeting, several actions made it abundantly clear that I and the kids were really not welcome. A number of them went to another table and no one spoke to us except for one other wife (the only other woman, who, in my opinion, is just as ignored as I am) and one man, briefly. This weekend, Joseph was invited to go with them to a VERY, I repeat, VERY primitive campground. I honestly didn't want to go because while I can deal with outhouses, I would prefer not to have to resort to a shovel and a handy tree.
So, does the hubby go or not?
It has been a hard decision, but one I left up to him.
If you know us at all, you know and J and I are very, very close and spend most of our time together. I am TICKLED no end, however, that he has friends because he hasn't had any of his own friends for years. But I don't like that his friends ignore me and my kids and make it clear that we are not really welcome. If the meetings were once a month, no big deal. But four to five times a month? Hmmmmm. Plus, I helped him host a party for these people . . . . and even though it was my house, I still felt like I was in the way.
So, it has been a dilemma for me, because, to be honest, if I had friends who acted that way towards my spouse and kids, I wouldn't hang out with them much--if ever. Sigh.
Other news in the Orr household . .
NO, I don't have a surgery date yet. I am beginning to despair that it will ever happen.
We are actually doing a semi official homeschool curriculum for the first time in a LONG time. It's a once a month program that I created years ago with my oldest. It not only covers some basic information in all subjects but I involve lots of activities together, outside the house and so on. It also teaches some real important stuff about pacing yourself and time management. Now let's see if I can maintain it, expand on it and refrain from daily nagging.
That' s the latest for now. Work is picking up, so I am seeing light at the end of the tunnel again. Whew.
Saturday, September 6, 2008
Red Tape Runaround
In June, I was told I would need two surgeries.
The first one was for kidney stones. I called, I scheduled it, I went in, I had it done on July 7, they sent me a bill and I am making payments. All is well.
The second one is for hyperparathyroidism and it is what CAUSED the kidney stones. It also causes a lot of other crappy symptoms like constant fatigue, joint pain, mental confusion, and so on. It is the most important of the two.
So has it been scheduled?
No.
Have I been trying to get it scheduled?
YES.
For how long?
More than a month.
Have I gotten anywhere?
NO, NO, NO, NO.
When you are non-insured, this hospital insists that you go through their financial procedure. This is no simple thing. They want more papers and information than the IRS did when we worked out a payment plan with them. They are making it SO HARD. It will take me hours to get this info together. And then, I am pretty sure they will reject me anyway. Our income will be too high to qualify.
Then what?
According to the hospital, "the doctor will let you know whether or not he will ACCEPT you as a patient anyway."
I simply cannot believe this.
The other hospitals did not do this. Not with my first surgery, nor with my son's surgery several years ago. Instead, they gave me a non-insured discount and then accepted my monthly payments.
Until I get this figured out, I do not get scheduled. So the calcium keeps being leeched out of my bones and yes, increasing the chance of getting kidney stones again. And I still feel like crap.
Do they care?
I think not.
Am I bummed?
You bet your . . . . . (fill in the blank with your preferred word).
The first one was for kidney stones. I called, I scheduled it, I went in, I had it done on July 7, they sent me a bill and I am making payments. All is well.
The second one is for hyperparathyroidism and it is what CAUSED the kidney stones. It also causes a lot of other crappy symptoms like constant fatigue, joint pain, mental confusion, and so on. It is the most important of the two.
So has it been scheduled?
No.
Have I been trying to get it scheduled?
YES.
For how long?
More than a month.
Have I gotten anywhere?
NO, NO, NO, NO.
When you are non-insured, this hospital insists that you go through their financial procedure. This is no simple thing. They want more papers and information than the IRS did when we worked out a payment plan with them. They are making it SO HARD. It will take me hours to get this info together. And then, I am pretty sure they will reject me anyway. Our income will be too high to qualify.
Then what?
According to the hospital, "the doctor will let you know whether or not he will ACCEPT you as a patient anyway."
I simply cannot believe this.
The other hospitals did not do this. Not with my first surgery, nor with my son's surgery several years ago. Instead, they gave me a non-insured discount and then accepted my monthly payments.
Until I get this figured out, I do not get scheduled. So the calcium keeps being leeched out of my bones and yes, increasing the chance of getting kidney stones again. And I still feel like crap.
Do they care?
I think not.
Am I bummed?
You bet your . . . . . (fill in the blank with your preferred word).
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
The Siren Song of the Patio Swing
Was there a certain moment in my life that I turned into my father?
I don't have his nose (thank goodness!) and of course, I happen to be female. But otherwise, the similiarities between us, as I get older, I find rather disconcerting.
My knees crack when I climb the stairs, just like his did.
I have lost a significant amount of hearing just like he did.
When I am concentrating, the tip of my tongue sticks out, just like his did.
And now, when late afternoon arrives, I find myself eyeing the porch swing on our deck and thinking that little else in life sounds as good as a nap--just like he used to do on a lounge chair by the pool. It's like the siren song in the tales of the Greek gods . . . . it calls my name softly, enticingly, seductively. "Come and visit for just a moment, Tami. You deserve it . . you've worked hard." I try to resist. I put on loud music. I get involved in another writing project. And yet, somehow I end up out on the deck staring at the soft cushions, feeling the gentle summer breeze and imagining the peace of a quick nap.
My dad took naps every single day that I can remember. He would come home for a long lunch from work and spend half of it eating and the other half asleep on the closest couch or other comfy spot. After he retired, it was a common sight to see him tipped back in the Laz-y-Boy, snoozing away (although he'd tell you later he never fell asleep--he was just 'relaxing for a moment.') I remember thinking I would never, ever be old enough that I had to take a nap--that was for old people and babies.
Apparently, I am getting to be an old person, 'cuz boy oh boy, naps are like a treasure some days. Today, when I laid down on the patio swing and closed my eyes, I was sure I could hear my father chuckling. I blew a kiss skyward and said, "I hear you, dad. I miss you like crazy--but since I'm turning into you anyway, I know you're still around in spirit."
Crap. I'm even growing hair on my chin these days. Now that is just going TOO FAR.
I don't have his nose (thank goodness!) and of course, I happen to be female. But otherwise, the similiarities between us, as I get older, I find rather disconcerting.
My knees crack when I climb the stairs, just like his did.
I have lost a significant amount of hearing just like he did.
When I am concentrating, the tip of my tongue sticks out, just like his did.
And now, when late afternoon arrives, I find myself eyeing the porch swing on our deck and thinking that little else in life sounds as good as a nap--just like he used to do on a lounge chair by the pool. It's like the siren song in the tales of the Greek gods . . . . it calls my name softly, enticingly, seductively. "Come and visit for just a moment, Tami. You deserve it . . you've worked hard." I try to resist. I put on loud music. I get involved in another writing project. And yet, somehow I end up out on the deck staring at the soft cushions, feeling the gentle summer breeze and imagining the peace of a quick nap.
My dad took naps every single day that I can remember. He would come home for a long lunch from work and spend half of it eating and the other half asleep on the closest couch or other comfy spot. After he retired, it was a common sight to see him tipped back in the Laz-y-Boy, snoozing away (although he'd tell you later he never fell asleep--he was just 'relaxing for a moment.') I remember thinking I would never, ever be old enough that I had to take a nap--that was for old people and babies.
Apparently, I am getting to be an old person, 'cuz boy oh boy, naps are like a treasure some days. Today, when I laid down on the patio swing and closed my eyes, I was sure I could hear my father chuckling. I blew a kiss skyward and said, "I hear you, dad. I miss you like crazy--but since I'm turning into you anyway, I know you're still around in spirit."
Crap. I'm even growing hair on my chin these days. Now that is just going TOO FAR.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
Jack Spratt and Sleeping
You remember that old Mother Goose rhyme about Jack Spratt and his wife?
"Jack Spratt could eat no fat
His wife could eat no lean
So between the two of them
They licked the platter clean"
Well, Joseph and I are like that when it comes to sleep.
As bedtime approaches, he begins to shut down. (The ONLY time of day where he ever gets grumpy.) By the time he has changed out of his clothes and taken off his glasses, he is half asleep. When his head touches the pillow, he is three quarters. Within 5 minutes (usually closer to 60 seconds), the man is ASLEEP. I have learned never to choose this time to talk to him about anything important because he will be asleep before I finish the first sentence.
On the other hand, there is me. I get into bed, turn on my CD player, pop on the sound machine by the bed and then proceed to spend the next 30 minutes squishing my pillow, changing the covers, flipping from side to back to side, sticking one foot out of the covers, moving the pillow speaker 14 times, listening to Joseph breathe, making lists of what I need to do the next day, worrying about the kids who aren't home, missing my mom, and generally attempting to fall asleep. At last, between 30 and 60 minutes later, I do.
Lest you think he is lucky and I am not, however, let's continue this.
Morning arrives. The sun comes up. Joseph awakens at something ungodly like 5 or 5:30 a.m. He cannot go back to sleep, no matter how long he lies there. Finally, he gets up and goes downstairs onto the computer where he surfs the net and waits to get sleepy again. Sometimes it never happens and he is up for the day. Sometimes he comes back upstairs after an hour or so and gets back in bed. Can he sleep? Not likely. So he tosses a bit and gets back up.
I, on the other hand, can wake at 6 to pee, or at 7 to throw on an extra cover and blissfully look at the clock, say "It's too early" (anytime before 8 qualifies, including 7:59) and go right back to sleep.
He never, ever dreams (well, most likely he does but has no conscious memory of it). I dream ALL THE TIME (see previous post!). I wake up and entertain myself for the first few minutes thinking it all over and trying to figure out what everything meant. He loves the early morning hours (fortunate considering his sleep habits) and I love the late night ones. It's like we are the ying and yang of slumber, or the Jack Spratt if you will. So, how is it, after almost 26 years of marriage, we are closer and happier than we have ever been? Beats me!
"Jack Spratt could eat no fat
His wife could eat no lean
So between the two of them
They licked the platter clean"
Well, Joseph and I are like that when it comes to sleep.
As bedtime approaches, he begins to shut down. (The ONLY time of day where he ever gets grumpy.) By the time he has changed out of his clothes and taken off his glasses, he is half asleep. When his head touches the pillow, he is three quarters. Within 5 minutes (usually closer to 60 seconds), the man is ASLEEP. I have learned never to choose this time to talk to him about anything important because he will be asleep before I finish the first sentence.
On the other hand, there is me. I get into bed, turn on my CD player, pop on the sound machine by the bed and then proceed to spend the next 30 minutes squishing my pillow, changing the covers, flipping from side to back to side, sticking one foot out of the covers, moving the pillow speaker 14 times, listening to Joseph breathe, making lists of what I need to do the next day, worrying about the kids who aren't home, missing my mom, and generally attempting to fall asleep. At last, between 30 and 60 minutes later, I do.
Lest you think he is lucky and I am not, however, let's continue this.
Morning arrives. The sun comes up. Joseph awakens at something ungodly like 5 or 5:30 a.m. He cannot go back to sleep, no matter how long he lies there. Finally, he gets up and goes downstairs onto the computer where he surfs the net and waits to get sleepy again. Sometimes it never happens and he is up for the day. Sometimes he comes back upstairs after an hour or so and gets back in bed. Can he sleep? Not likely. So he tosses a bit and gets back up.
I, on the other hand, can wake at 6 to pee, or at 7 to throw on an extra cover and blissfully look at the clock, say "It's too early" (anytime before 8 qualifies, including 7:59) and go right back to sleep.
He never, ever dreams (well, most likely he does but has no conscious memory of it). I dream ALL THE TIME (see previous post!). I wake up and entertain myself for the first few minutes thinking it all over and trying to figure out what everything meant. He loves the early morning hours (fortunate considering his sleep habits) and I love the late night ones. It's like we are the ying and yang of slumber, or the Jack Spratt if you will. So, how is it, after almost 26 years of marriage, we are closer and happier than we have ever been? Beats me!
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