Degree of Difficulty

Pardon my whining over here... but I'm drowning just a bit.

Bariatric patients often go through some crazy crap.... like when you are burning fat, you end up with copious amounts of hormones screaming through your system. Hormones that had been stored in your fat cells, now freed up to cause holy hell on your heart and your mood. 

And depression is a sometimes side effect as well. Thats a fun one to go along with the whole hair-loss bit. 

Honestly, I was looking forward to being lighter so that I could run, but I'm finding that when I'm walking, my left side hurts. Mostly when I'm breathing deeper. But it hurts, I would swear, near my heart. Not thrilled about that, and I'm only hoping now, that it lightens up by this summer... cuz right now running is out of the question. As is anything more strenuous than walking.

I also don't dare to try and figure out what the problem is... I literally cannot afford to go to the doctor. Probably.

I was looking forward to fixing the gigantic hernia above my belly button... but that's out of the question for years, perhaps. Depending on insurance and negotiations with the hospitals. 

I was also looking forward to wearing smaller sizes of clothes... I can afford to purchase second hand clothes only (again, in anticipation of things not going my way financially)... which, whatever. I live near some pretty great Thrift Store options and I'm not particularly proud. I've been a thrift store shopper from way back. I just feel a little dumb in my $5 Walmart bras. And not very sexy.

...and now that I'm feeling a little cuter, and a little more like myself, I've been eye-balling cute Dr. Marten boots. But really, I shouldn't get any even if I can find some cheap online, cuz my freaking FEET are getting smaller. For reals.

I really just hate how all of my free time is now spent making depressing and disheartening phone calls to representatives who don't know jack, and really, all they want to do is "set up a payment plan" and get you off the phone. I hate how I've been yelling at these hapless stooges. And crying. I hate the crying and how freaked out I'm getting over this mess. 

I'm sad and feel betrayed by my "employee advocate" who claimed that the insurance companies call her "the Bulldog" cuz she's so tenacious.  She isn't an advocate... she's a glorified Google. She's a professional "expectation manager." She had the gall to tell me that my main job right now is to heal and be okay and get better, when she knows that really, my main job is to try and mitigate the financial FUBAR that I'm facing. I have time deadlines. She knows that. Now is the time to do THAT.

I hate how it has to be me working through this mess. Not really sure why I'm so resentful of that. It IS my mess. But I am. Resentful. 

I would hope that no one that I care about ever has to navigate these dark waters of insurance and hospital billing, because no one.... and I mean NO ONE knows how to do it, least of all anyone who answers the phones at the Insurance or Hospital financial offices. The story is constantly changing.   

But mostly I hate how I weep at the drop of a hat. And yell. I yell about how stupid the system is and how ignorant and useless the people who answer phones are. I guess when I get a letter in the mail saying if I have questions, to call a certain number, I expect that the person who answers the phone when I call that number to be able to answer my questions. But they rarely can.

And now I'm yelling on my blog.

The degree of difficulty of just simply living right now is beyond me.

Dear "Insurance Company"

The following is the introduction portion of my first Appeal to "Insurance Company"

to reverse their decision to deny the butt-load of bills I have from all the recent medical hoorah.  The following will stand temporarily, with the name of my insurance withheld in case it affects my appeals process. I have just this past Saturday received the denial of my first appeal attempt. I have one more internal, and then a Federal External appeal to go. trust me... if I end up paying, I'll let ya know the name of the *%$#@ers who pulled this crap, and I'll do it loudly.

 We live in a complex age, the age of information. As a matter of fact, in some ways we live in an age of too much information. Google “information overload” and you are immediately overloaded with information: more than 7m hits in 0.05 seconds. Some of this information is interesting: for example, that the phrase “information overload” was popularised by Alvin Toffler in 1970. Some of it is mere noise. But it seems certain that there is too much information for the regular citizen to be aware of everything that is pertinent to their lives.

  Civil liberties lawyer Harvey Silverglate estimates that the average person unknowingly breaks at least three Federal criminal laws every day. Federal crimes!
If you use an iPhone or an Android based smart phone, then you have likely on the regular acceded to all sorts of things that you may not be aware of when you “agreed” to the terms and conditions just to be able to activate the device. Most people don't read what they are agreeing to, they simply  assume that there is nothing untoward or unusual in what they are agreeing to. They assume that they would hear through their fellow citizens if there was anything too burdensome or bizarre.

  When it comes to insurance, I have a basic understanding of what would and would not be covered. When I wasn't sure if Bariatric Surgery would be covered, I called the phone number on the back of my "Insurance Company" card and had a conversation with a representative. Before the conversation occurred, I was informed that the call would be recorded, and apparently it was. I mention this because it is important to know that my recollection of the conversation lines up with what was said, and more importantly what was not said in that recording. I assume you, the reader, will look up and listen to that call the same as has already been done by my client representative for Blahblahblah Insurance. You will hear me ask about my coverage for Bariatric Surgery and discover that it was not covered. You will hear me then ask if went the self-pay route, whether any of what I paid would be able to be applied to my deductible. I was told “no,” but nothing past that. Not one single mention of the very pertinent information that any and every complication from any self pay procedure or surgery would also not be covered by Selecthealth until a year had passed.

  You will hear me weeping in disappointment and frustration by the end of the call, and it is possible that the representative didn't want to give me any more bad news in that phone call. 

I can assure you, I would much rather have heard the full facts in that phone conversation, as opposed to when I heard them, looking at the first denials of coverage of hospital bills, after the fact.

  I was well aware of possible complications to the Gastric Sleeve surgery, I did after all, do my homework. In addition to doing my due diligence, I had eight years earlier, watched as an acquaintance had the VSG surgery, and found herself a little over a week later in the ICU for a month, with a leak. Her leak was especially bad, and very nearly killed her, and had she not had insurance to cover the bills, it would have ruined her family financially.

  Because of the failure of "Insurance Company" to inform me of the grave financial risk I was taking, when I asked them about self pay surgery in the phone call,  I made a decision I would not otherwise have done.

  It did not occur to me that such a policy was a possibility, and because of that lack of knowledge, I made my decision in good faith, thinking I had the best information from "Insurance Company". Like any modern American I trusted that the insurance company with whom I had a relationship and reasonable expectation of fair treatment, would have informed me of such a huge financial risk when I was actually asking questions about it on the phone.

  Because of the informational vacuum in which I made my decisions, I did go and get the Gastric Sleeve surgery on October 22, 2018. Interestingly, had I waited just a few months, I would have been covered by "Insurance Company", as apparently January first of 2019 the policy of not covering complications to surgeries not covered by "Insurance Company" has changed.

   The point to my appeal, is that even though it is apparently in my policy that "Insurance Company" will refuse to cover any and every complication for the Sleeve surgery that I’d had done, that I was treated unfairly in that this vital information was withheld from me. There was simply no other reasonable way for me to know of that policy if "Insurance Company" refuses to inform me of it when I call and actually ask for information about self pay bariatric surgery.

  If that is something that cannot be done, then I request that the new policy as of January first, of covering complications, please be extended two months to retroactively cover my situation.

Before, During and After....

In the hospital with Birdie before I got the Nasojejunal feeding tube.

The freaking tube.

The second drain and the fun of medical adhesive allergies! Open sores along the edges.




One regular sized hand and one fat hand from the IV! It actually took only 36 hours till I had matching hands again.

Christmas Eve with my beautiful girls... Everything is gone but the drain on the side you cannot see.

The "before" pic is from June of 2016... the "after" is today. It's been a little over three months and 60 lbs lost... although I think it's 75 lbs less than the "before" pic.

The Long and Dark Nights

Here is the goofy thing about the time I spent in the hospital and was laid out on the couch in the family room, feeling sick and generally not having much fun.... oddly, most of the time I was okay.

By that I mean, I wasn't too afraid and I wasn't too freaked out most of the time, even though what was going on with my body was painful, scary and freaky! Please to note, I say most of the time, because I am a human being, and that's how most humans roll!

I can tell you, I am not, nor will I likely ever be one of those people of whom is said at their funeral, "they never complained or were down!" Seriously, I hear that about folks who die of cancer and I just don't buy it. Pain sucks, and hospitals are scary and frustrating and if you ever hear that said about me feel free to call out whoever says it! I assure you, it won't be Dadguy saying that kinda crap. He knows me too well!

BUT.

The thing about what happened to me. I had prayed about getting the surgery before going, and received a very strong and clear answer to go and do it... right then- when I did, and right- there where I did. I don't often get that clear of answers, and when I do, it's usually a clear "NO!" So I was pretty sure that I was going to be just fine...

...and then when I wasn't just fine, I was pretty sure that I'd be just fine... eventually.

This knowledge opened up some very interesting doors for me. Especially amazing was what went on during the long and dark nights.

Up to this point the only nights I'd spent at a hospital were either for my daughter, Pearl, or in recovery from giving birth to my three girls, or the  C-section for the Boy-o. For Pearl I wasn't the one in pain or undergoing procedures. For the birth recoveries, that was simple, and frankly about five seconds after giving birth all four times I would feel so much better, I could dance a jig... stitches, IV pole and all! 

Okay...probably not the c-section. They dosed me up on morphine and I was on the nod for a few hours after the procedure! But the point is, I FELT pretty good!

The room I was in on the surgical unit was ridiculously tiny, there was really no place for Dadguy to stay, and I'd have sent him home even if there'd been room for him. The kids needed the continuity of having him home at night, and he needed to sleep. I knew enough to know that the nurses would be in multiple times a night, not great for getting rest. Hospitals are just not a great place to try and heal! Plus I was very sick and very weak, I needed to get as much rest as I possibly could.

So I was alone during the nights. 

Only I kinda wasn't. How to explain what went on when the lights went out? It was amazing! I was surrounded by Beings? Spirits? I was ministered to by these beings, watched over and prayed over by them. I knew my Granny only when she called me "dolly." There was also a very tall, raw-boned man with greying brownish hair who sat on my bed next to me. Those were the only ones that I could tell individually, but there were many others there, and they comforted me and helped to understand that this was all okay. I could tell they weren't mortal people, they didn't have regular bodies, but they were humans nonetheless. I could see and sense them moving around the room.

That first night in the hospital it began, and it continued every night, even when I went home. I was also having visions of traveling over the earth. I saw mountains and oceans from a birds eye view, but I was unafraid. It was the most natural thing to be traveling the way that I was and seeing snowy valleys and high peaks, to sense the living creatures, to sense the hibernating trees and plants. There was a sense of glory and awe along with the visions.

You may be thinking to yourself.... niiiiice! That musta been some good drugs! But I only ever took a single, two hour round of the strong stuff once a night four of those nights when I was in the hospital and never at home. The visions and the visits went on for hours.

Whatever I am supposed to learn and experience from this I hope I've done my part. But I can tell you for sure, I am grateful for the tender mercies I was shown. I don't think I will ever forget the feelings of peace and wonder of those long nights...

Now I'm starting to feel better, and it's on to the next trial and challenge. How the flying flippity are we gonna pay for all this!?! Seriously... if y'all are the praying type, pray for a miracle for the Chaos Family Finances! Who knows what might happen? 

I most def believe in miracles!

Where I Have Been?

Soooo.... last October 22nd I went to TJ, Mexico, and had a gastric sleeve procedure done. I'm not ashamed of it, I know why I chose to do what I did... but I did want to keep it more or less private. Some of my immediate family knew about it before hand, but that's about it.

I did my homework and had it done at Pompeii Surgical and I had an amazing experience! The staff, the doctors and the other patients were so fabulous. I felt great, I felt strong and when I came home on the 25th, I was tired but happy. That lasted till around Halloween.

I started running fevers with crazy-bad sweating, and had massive chills where I couldn't get warm and was literally shaking violently. I noticed on my apple watch that my heart rate was sky-high (tachycardia) but my fevers never got any higher than 101.

Finally on November 5th, after consulting with Pompeii, they told me that even though my fevers weren't high, that I should go in to the doctors. I got a doctors appointment at my PCP office and they tested me for influenza and a UTI. After both tests came back negative they sent me to the local hospital to get a CT scan... and there they found a huge abscess in my chest.

Privacy was now over.

I had a leak. It happens. Not often, but it happens and it sucks.

Spent the next 5 days in the hospital sick out of my mind having horrible things happen to me. I promise you, you do NOT want to know... just be aware that after one of the procedures I came back to my room and told poor Dadguy that I would rather die than ever have to undergo that procedure again.

Finally, weak and sick with a feeding tube down my nose, a stent in my stomach, and a drain coming out of my left side I was sent home to try and heal. Less than a week later the drain that was supposed to be draining the abscess failed, so they pulled it out hoping that it would be okay. It wasn't. A few days after the drain came out, the course of antibiotics was done. Less than a week later I was back in the hospital with an abscess possibly even a little larger than the first.

That procedure? The most horrible one I'd rather die than endure again? Yup. I had to do it again.

I spent all of November sick, either in the hospital or sleeping on the couch set-up in the family room,  that Dadguy had arranged for my convalescence.  I spent all of December sick, though a week or so into the month, after a CT scan, and an x-ray as well as the material they pulled out of my abscess showed that nothing was getting from my stomach to the abscess (though whether that was because the leak was healed or just that the Stent was doing it's job was unknown) the doctor started me on a liquid diet. He had to pull the nasojejunal tube (feeding tube down my nose) because I couldn't drink with it in; too nauseating. That was the first relief I had. I could all of a sudden talk, and read, and drink!

The next relief I had was December 20th they pulled the stent out via endoscopy. Oh! Sweet relief! That thing freaking HURT! Imagine a steel cage stapled into the lining of your stomach constantly holding the upper part of your stomach open, constantly pressing and burning inside your chest.

On December 26th, after nearly a week of eating and drinking (still mostly liquid diet) and no change in the material from the drain in my side, they pulled the drain. All of a sudden I could shower without a huge plastic sheet covering the drain site, I could sleep on my side (sort of) and the agony of the drain was over. If you think I'm being over dramatic, perhaps I should explain that I developed an allergy to medical adhesive a week after the second drain was places, and I had open sores all along where the drain was taped down. They had to remove the adhesive, meaning the drain was being primarily held in my body by a suture where the drain went into my side, along with the interior suture. That last week it was constantly shifting and pulling at the suture in my skin.

Also, it ought to be said that outside of the hospital there was no relief other than Tylenol, as the bariatric surgery meant no ibuprofen or NSAIDs, and I cannot handle most of the opiates that they are willing to prescribe (they make me sick), and the stronger stuff I wouldn't take even if they would prescribe it to me!

That Friday morning, two days later, I woke up pissing blood. Not a happy day, but I called my PCP and crossed my fingers that the simplest explanation was the most reasonable explanation. Both Dr. Google and I assumed I had a UTI. LOL! Nope... apparently I had one bugger of a yeast infection. Shocker, what with the two months plus of antibiotics I'd subjected my body to.

The next weekend, January 5th, I finished the last of my antibiotics and I settled in to wait. I've frankly, been half convinced that I would be back in the hospital with yet another abscess and yet another chance to experience the fun of being stabbed in the guts while still conscious. 

Today I finally dare to think that I really am done. Please, oh please let me be done. I mean... other than healing and recovering from two months of illness and loss of muscle tone. I guess there is all of that!

List of things I missed while in the hospital both times.... Pearls 13th Birthday, Henry's 10th Birthday, T'Amy's wedding. Blah!

*Up next... pictures of "Before, During and After"... "The Crazy Business That Went On During The Dark Nights".... also the continuing saga of "How The Flying Crap Are We Gonna Pay For This?!"

Snow Therapy

Two years ago I went to a therapist for the specific purpose of addressing the panic attacks I get around icy and snowy driving. It had gotten to the point where I was obsessively checking my weather app to monitor the forecast and temperature. I would hyperventilate (quietly as I could) when on the road in any kind of messy weather.

I did all this work with the therapist and in writing.... and then last winter it never really snowed. Like, at all. This year hardly at all either. So, I'm not 100% sure how much I got out of it. 

I don't check the weather nearly as often and not as obsessively... but I do tend to check several times a day when snow is somewhere in the 10 day forecast. I justify myself because the kids want some snow so bad. I'm keeping track on their behalf. 

Riiiight.

But if I'm honest, I'm specifically looking for snow or stormy weather forecast on Tuesdays, the night that Birdie drives herself to Salt Lake City for her guitar lessons and band practice. I'm delighted when I see snow forecast on weekends. Like, maybe we can get all the snowing done with on days where no one has to go anywhere.

Blogging is some good writing. I'm glad to do it when I can make myself do it nowadays... but daaaang, the writing I did for therapy. I'm using the back half of the notebook I used to write in as a food journal. I'm keeping track of calories and protein etc. I was thinking of snow this morning, and how nutty I probably still am, so I re-read what I'd written down two years ago.

Reduced me to tears within the first two pages. That stuff is the real business. Pure poison and pure truth. 

Wow.