Hello From OhWellville!
It's been almost a year since the first time I called an ambulance to take me to the hospital. Since then, I have recovered in some ways. In other respects, this will take more time. A quick recap for those of you playing at home: Not too long after my 59th birthday, I had trouble breathing and called 911. They took me to the local hospital, where I stayed for four days. After playing 20 questions with multiple nurses and doctors, a nurse finally told me I was there for possible heart failure and pneumonia. I never talked to a cardiologist. I never saw a pulmonologist. The doc at the hospital sent me home with a handful of scripts and good wishes. A little over a month later, I was back in the hospital. This time, it was personal or serious or something. I was in a medically induced coma for a little under a week. The cardiologist who was overseeing my care finally got someone to wake me the heck up and send me to a hospital where I could get the surgery I needed, which I did. On New Year's Eve, I went home, faced my demons about being scared silly to leave the house, scared of going back into the hospital, and now had a team of sorts who was there if I was willing to take responsibility for my health, I would live happily ever after. The end.
Not so fast.
There is billing, which is pretty draconian if you don't have insurance. Tennessee is so afraid of anything they think resembles socialism, that they just said no to Medicaid expansion. My goodness, even a rock-ribbed Republican like former New Mexico Governor Susana Martinez said she didn't like it, but also saw it was the best thing for her constituents. (She's a personal hero of mine for a number of reasons and this is just one of them.) Tennessee lawmakers? Nah. The beginning and end of their concerns start and terminate with who they see in the mirror. There are a few, very few Tennessee lawmakers who shouldn't be field dressed, cured, canned, and sent to New Guinea.
But I digress. The four-inch stack of bills that arrive every month tends to change in terms of amounts, accounts, and who wants them and what they want them for if any explanation is offered. It's a bit like watching a high school junior try to talk their parents into paying for a road trip to Atlanta or a band trip to Dollywood that might have been given a passing mention during practice to convince the percussion section to lay off the Coke and Jack until after half-time. However, "I need two hundred dollars for food and stuff. Yes, it's for school. I am in school. This is a thing I have to do for school. Yes, I need the money, preferably in twenties or smaller" has been replaced with, "You will send me twenty thousand dollars. You are not owned any explanation. Okay, if you're going to be that way, you were in the hospital. We are in the hospital. You got care. We might have been involved. Other people billing you for the same thing may also be involved. Yes, it takes nine people to look at your EKG and you have to pay for every one of them who came in and said, 'hi.' You also owe the doctor who is not even a heart person three hundred and fifty dollars for poking his head in the door and telling you that God wants you to teach everyone about heart disease. No, we don't know who the insane German person with the tuning fork was. Just be glad he didn't go all Patch Adams and wear a clown nose. He does have a billing code with us, so you have to pay for him, too."
After a while, the state of health care and the state of us as a people when it comes to our health is maddening, heartbreaking (figuratively and literally,) and well, funny. As time has acted as a healing agent, it's getting to where the funny parts are dominating. Hey, time might be the soul's bacitracin!
Of course, not everyone feels that way. Some people still get mad. Some are in on the joke and it's glorious.
Take the cow thing. Chunks of my heart used to belong to a cow. No, really. Some people get plastic pieces and they're like living Lego Tony Starks. Me? I was told the bits being replaced would come from a cow or a chicken. There was some alarm at one point when I wore some pajamas a friend had gotten me as a gift a couple of years ago. They were Hannukah PJs that said, "Oy to the world!" Were people worried that I was keeping Kosher? What if my donor was a real oinker? I don't know. According to my thoracic surgeon's nurse, my reconstructed heart was all beef. Lubbock must be so proud. Sometimes I joke that every time someone mows their lawn, I have to fight the urge to run outside with a salad plate and a fork. All I have to do to cause hysterics between me and my mother is to look at her meaningfully and intone, "Moo!" Other people are not so amused. Oh, well(ness.)
Not so fast.
There is billing, which is pretty draconian if you don't have insurance. Tennessee is so afraid of anything they think resembles socialism, that they just said no to Medicaid expansion. My goodness, even a rock-ribbed Republican like former New Mexico Governor Susana Martinez said she didn't like it, but also saw it was the best thing for her constituents. (She's a personal hero of mine for a number of reasons and this is just one of them.) Tennessee lawmakers? Nah. The beginning and end of their concerns start and terminate with who they see in the mirror. There are a few, very few Tennessee lawmakers who shouldn't be field dressed, cured, canned, and sent to New Guinea.
But I digress. The four-inch stack of bills that arrive every month tends to change in terms of amounts, accounts, and who wants them and what they want them for if any explanation is offered. It's a bit like watching a high school junior try to talk their parents into paying for a road trip to Atlanta or a band trip to Dollywood that might have been given a passing mention during practice to convince the percussion section to lay off the Coke and Jack until after half-time. However, "I need two hundred dollars for food and stuff. Yes, it's for school. I am in school. This is a thing I have to do for school. Yes, I need the money, preferably in twenties or smaller" has been replaced with, "You will send me twenty thousand dollars. You are not owned any explanation. Okay, if you're going to be that way, you were in the hospital. We are in the hospital. You got care. We might have been involved. Other people billing you for the same thing may also be involved. Yes, it takes nine people to look at your EKG and you have to pay for every one of them who came in and said, 'hi.' You also owe the doctor who is not even a heart person three hundred and fifty dollars for poking his head in the door and telling you that God wants you to teach everyone about heart disease. No, we don't know who the insane German person with the tuning fork was. Just be glad he didn't go all Patch Adams and wear a clown nose. He does have a billing code with us, so you have to pay for him, too."
After a while, the state of health care and the state of us as a people when it comes to our health is maddening, heartbreaking (figuratively and literally,) and well, funny. As time has acted as a healing agent, it's getting to where the funny parts are dominating. Hey, time might be the soul's bacitracin!
Of course, not everyone feels that way. Some people still get mad. Some are in on the joke and it's glorious.
Take the cow thing. Chunks of my heart used to belong to a cow. No, really. Some people get plastic pieces and they're like living Lego Tony Starks. Me? I was told the bits being replaced would come from a cow or a chicken. There was some alarm at one point when I wore some pajamas a friend had gotten me as a gift a couple of years ago. They were Hannukah PJs that said, "Oy to the world!" Were people worried that I was keeping Kosher? What if my donor was a real oinker? I don't know. According to my thoracic surgeon's nurse, my reconstructed heart was all beef. Lubbock must be so proud. Sometimes I joke that every time someone mows their lawn, I have to fight the urge to run outside with a salad plate and a fork. All I have to do to cause hysterics between me and my mother is to look at her meaningfully and intone, "Moo!" Other people are not so amused. Oh, well(ness.)