More Prodisc drama

More on the Prodisc lawsuits, and Dr. B is quoted. For some reason, this doesn't bother me; I figure if they've got some financial investment in seeing that a surgery is successful, then the chances are better that it will be. There's probably all kinds of things wrong with thinking like that, but there you have it.

I'm going to be interviewed on October 13th for the DVD that the ADR patient foundation I linked to here is producing. Yay!

I'm excited of course to be able to tell my story, but more importantly, this DVD will be used for patient education and will be distributed to spine centers all over the country.

Comic relief

At first glance, this xray doesn't look too much different fromt this one, but if you look closely, you can see that the fused area is filling in a bit more with bone.

That's good.

Right after I was shown into an exam room, one of the interns came in to see me. Last visit Dr. B. brought this kid in to see my progress and introduced him, saying that he had "scrubbed in" on my surgery. (Thanks to Grey's Anatomy, I now know what that means.) So this kid (I kid you not, he was like 12 years old) comes in and asks me a bunch of questions about pain, activities, etc. He examined the scars and said they looked "good," whatever that means, and took some notes. I asked him about the slight sciatica feeling pain I was getting when I lean forward sometimes and his answer was basically, don't lean forward like that. *rim shot* Who is this guy, Jackie Vernon?

Dr. Balderston came in a few minutes later and said it looked "absolutely beautiful," and was healing exactly as it should, which of course is great to hear. I joked with him that usually when someone says I look beautiful, they are looking at my face, but I'd take the compliment however it came. He joked back (unusual for him, he's usually all business)that for him, face, back, whatever, it was all the same. It felt so good to joke around with him, after all the seriousness in the past year or so. What a relief! I'm now allowed to start swimming again, and can use any of the elliptical machines in the gym, as well as the stationary bike. This will give some much needed variety to my workouts, and help to redevelop my leg muscles. I still can't believe how much walking still hurts my legs (and feet!).

My next follow up appointment isn't until June (three months from now!) and I joked to Dr. Balderston that if at the three month follow up had the intern coming in first, I wondered who would be coming at the six month visit, the janitor? *rim shot*

But seriously folks, everything is going just like it should, and that's no joke!

Abdominal Incision 11 weeks

This week's installment of the Neosporin Scar Solution Challenge.
It's not looking much different than last week. I'm also a bit concerned about the formation of scar tissue. I'm trying to massage the area gently, but it is still quite sore and I can feel the thick scar tissue that's formed underneath. I don't want it to adhere to any layer of muscle in there, cause then it will look ugly and lumpy and there goes my goal of a six pack by summer.

I see Balderston on Friday and let's hope he gives me the go ahead for more activities (like bending!), and maybe some physical therapy to break up the scar tissue.

Ain't Technology Grand?

I'm looking good!
Or so Dr. Balderston says. He pulled the remainder of the surgical tape off the abdominal incision and it doesn't look as bad as I thought it would. He says it's still somewhat swollen, and I can attest to the fact that it is still very sore to the touch. Those red marks on the sides are bruises from when the surgical tape was on and I had the distention problem, causing blisters to form under the tape. Ugh.
He was really impressed with my walking regimen, but didn't give me permission to do anything more than that at least until I see him again in another six weeks. I am allowed to begin doing some upper body work, mostly arms and shoulders (no lat pulldowns, chest or pec work for now), with five pound weights (he started at three pounds, but I got him up to five, ha!). I'm also allowed to start moving my body into different positions, like mild twisting, and I'm permitted to lift and carry up to fifteen pounds. But no bending yet.

I asked him about my still throbbing legs, he said it will go away as I become more used to walking upright (ha, soon I'll be using tools just like a human!). Apparently all my feverish stationary bicycle riding and swimming don't use the same muscles as good old-fashioned walking.





As you can see from the xrays, (click on the images to see them larger)he didn't take out the old rods; there was so much bone grown over them that he said it would have been a much more painful recovery for me. What they did do was cut the rods and reposition them so that my shoulders and thoracic region are now above my pelvis, and not pitching forward (compare to this). The first little red arrow in the xray on the right is where they cut the rod, the second points out the L3-4 fusion with small metal cage and screw, the third arrow points to the ProDisc at L5-S1.

Ain't technology grand?

Do The Twist

Here I am in my "bone growth stimulator." It sounds like a lot of hocus pocus; supposedly this apparatus (like having two picture frames strapped to my body) is supposed to send out micro-pulses that stimulate bone growth, helping the fusion to heal. OK. Hey they gave it to me in the hospital, so I'm using it.

It can't heal soon enough for me.

I'm not allowed to bend at the waist; if I want to pick something up off the floor, I have to squat down, plie-ing like a ballerina. An aching, sore, awkward ballerina trying to pick up her damn ugly-azz slippies (even my doctor made fun of them in the hospital, but they're so comfortable and they were only 7 dollars!) off the floor.

I'm not allowed to twist, even though I've woken up a few times in the night with my hips facing a different direction from my chest. I just now noticed that I'm kind of twisting in the photo above. It's hard not to twist.

I'm not allowed to pick up or carry anything over 10 pounds, though as I said before, anything more than a cup of tea or a book feels like a ton. And twisting and lifting and carrying is strictly verboten. Like something as simple as picking a dish up from the table and turning my body toward the kitchen with the dish in my hand is not allowed.

I can't swim, obviously due to the incisions mostly, but also because the weightlessness of the water, the thing that made me feel so good before, is now not my friend. I could overexert and snap a still healing muscle in a snap.

My recovery time would be much, much shorter if I had only had the ADR, but because I also had a fusion in two of the vertebrae, the healing and recovery will take months. At least it isn't as bad as when I had the first fusion for scoliosis 20 years ago. Then I had to wear an uncomfortable plastic "brace" (read: body cast) for six months. It was sweaty and at times unbearable. I had to wear a tshirt next to my skin under the brace, and anytime I went out of the house I had to carry a fresh tshirt and a plastic bag with me, ducking into the ladies room of whereever I was to take off my dripping wet sweaty tshirt, put it in the plastic bag (PU!), put the fresh shirt on and dry off the brace on the inside and put it back on. Then put whatever baggy shirt I was wearing over it all back on. Sometimes I'd need two clean shirts with me if I was going to be out for a while, and this wasn't even summer, it was October, November, December.

As much as I don't miss that, I do kind of miss the brace. Everytime I step out on the sidewalk now, I'm in fear. Fear of someone smacking into me, of tripping, of those damn delivery guys racing down the sidewalk on bikes, bags of food swinging like maces off the handlebars. Also, it would keep me from moving improperly, like the mindless twisting I do about a hundred times a day, like I'm twisting in the photo above. Not good.

What I can do is walk. And I do it everyday, either outside, in fear, or inside. We are so lucky to live in a huge building, an entire city block. We've got long interconnected hallways on the first floor so I can stroll around in my pjs and slippies and get my exercise without going out.

I've got my first follow up with Balderston on the 19th of this month and I'm hoping he'll give me the go-ahead to do more than walk then. But, I still may not be doing The Twist anytime soon.

Freedom!

It's 18 days out from surgery now and I don't think this incision looks much different than it did here. It sure does itch and burn and hurt. I've lost the weight I managed to put back on just before the surgery; I guess 8 days of not eating anything but ice chips will do that to you. I don't recommend it as a weight-loss tool. Also, I'm very, very pale. Not sure what's up with that.

Most of the pain I had when I came home (after the whole "natural gas" disaster, which was VERY painful and weird) was in my legs and stomach from the muscles being stretched. Not only was I not used to walking upright, but the ProDisc that went in a L5-S1 made me at least a quarter of an inch taller than I was before I started stooping. Having muscles stretched 24/7 was so much more painful than I would have imagined. Stretching usually feels good. This didn't.

The worst of this pain was centered right around Saturday (the 23rd) and Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, or at least it seemed so because I was no longer on the Demerol. I still have fluctuating pain in my legs and low back and stomach after I've been up and walking for a while, but they say that this will go away eventually. Dr. B. says it is not unusual for patients to have muscle pain from the stretching for months after the surgery. I was in such good shape (the word Dr. B. used to describe it was "remarkable") going in to the surgery (swam a quarter of a mile the day before), I just can't imagine what people go through with this type of surgery that are overweight and out of shape. If you are reading this and considering back surgery, start exercising yesterday!

Anyway, today I walked (gingerly!)from our apartment at 10th Ave to 8th Ave and bought some fruit. I was careful to only buy as much as I could comfortably carry, and that wasn't much; I'm officially not allowed to pick up anything that weighs 10 pounds or more and anything that weighs more than a mug of tea generally causes pain. It was weird being out without the cane, I felt a sense of freedom, but also like there was something missing, like I was exposed and vulnerable to injury. I avoided passersby assiduously, almost to the point of paranoia. Friendly neighborhood dogs are a problem now too, I can't risk getting sideswiped or jumped on by even a small dog, as the sudden jolt could torque the spine, wreaking havoc with all the healing muscles and the fusion. I've decided that the next time I go out on the street, I will take the cane, just because people tend to give you a bit more consideration and a wider berth when you walk with a cane. Even in New York. [That's right, Ben, I'm sacrificing freedom for security. Wanna fight about it?] Still, it was a heady experience, being out and about and upright.

Then I came home and took some Darvocet and went to bed, because this kind of freedom definitely has its price.

Tummy Ache

They took yet another set of xrays (this was the fourth!) this morning and determined that the obstruction had lessened somewhat, at least enough to allow me to graduate to a clear liquid diet. Yay! I've been sipping on cranberry juice and extra salty beef broth all day. My abdomen is still very distended (though you can't really tell from this picture) though not as much as before. Because I'm now ingesting clear liquids, they were able to take me off the IV fluids, and not a moment too soon, as I have not a viable vein left in either of my arms or hands.

Unfortunately, taking me off the IV also means that they are trying to wean me off of the IV pain meds. The Demerol was really allowing me to get sleep that I desparately need and I'm just now realizing that all this hurts. A lot. Dr. Balderston says that I'll have muscle aches and pain for "several months" (ouch!) while my body adjusts to its new way of being. My right leg, for instance, which was always buckling underneath me is now stretched taut, as are my stomach muscles. It feels a bit weird to be walking upright and not have to hold myself up with anything, but, hey, I could get used to it!

Keep your fingers crossed that all goes ok with the clear liquids and that I can graduate to the "mushy diet" tomorrow and then it's on to solid foods. I won't be getting out tomorrow, Wednesday or Thursday is more like it, and I'll know more after talking with Dr. B. tomorrow morning.

Three days to go (from yesterday)

I knew I shouldn't have started this countdown thing, I have so much trouble keeping up ...

Anyway these are the three discs I'm having surgery on, illustrated on the front of one of my homemade hospital gowns, in case my doctor forgets what body part he's working on or something. Note the misspelling!

Four days till surgery!

Yesterday I had a call from Dr. Balderston. He confirmed what I said here about the logistics of the surgery. Dr. Wernsing will open my abdomen and push my internal organs aside, then Dr. B will begin working on my spine. He said they will start from the bottom, L5-S1, and work up to L3-4, inserting as many as three ProDiscs total (IF he can fit them in). If he can't replace the discs in L4-5 and L3-4 he'll have to do a fusion on those and that will be done through the posterior incision. He also said they will tilt the vertebrae back from this anterior opening so that I can stand up straight again.

He assured me he'll be getting lots of rest this weekend, and that I'll see him just prior to going to sleep so I can do "what I need to do." He explained that some patients want to squeeze his hands to be sure that he doesn't have a tremor (sounds like I'm not the only one watching too much Grey's Anatomy!) I said the sight of him with clean glasses and in scrubs and not a golf shirt was good enough for me.

Surgery Countdown: Seven Days

The surgery is seven days away.

We spent Monday filling out forms, producing insurance (or as I like to call it, “UNsurance”) information and getting stuck with needles.

The lowlight of the day was when I had to see the cardiologist for a routine EKG. This is like a 40 second test. We were in the offices of Drs. Mandal (a father-daughter cardiology team) for 90 minutes, with only one other patient in the whole place. WTF? It was like a Three Stooges movie, with two admins and the doctor and her “Medical Assistant” running around and literally bumping into each other. And can I just add that they had the absolute worst magazine selection ever? There were three copies of the same issue of a golf magazine and some Prevention wannabe. The highlight of this lowlight was when the MA was taking my history and asked if I ever drank. I said yes. She said how much, I said a lot. She said how often, I said a lot. She asked if I went to AA. Well! I don’t, but hello? It’s ANONYMOUS!? Finally we were released so I could go donate my own blood to be used in the surgery.

The blood donation was definitely the highlight of the day. Darlene was the phlebotomist and once we started to joke around a little with her, she really loosened up, though she still wouldn’t let me take my camera out to take a photo of my blood, all neat and warm in its little pouch …

I found out that another surgeon will be making the incision in my stomach and pushing my organs to the side, exposing the spine anteriorly. They referred to this doctor as a “general surgeon.” Yeah, I know, doesn’t sound good does it? Sounds sort of like the interns are in the back flipping a coin to see who cuts my belly open (I’ve GOT to stop watching Grey’s Anatomy). That’s actually not the case, thank goodness, the General Surgeon that will be making that incision is Dr. David Wernsing and he’s been working with Dr. B for years. I’ll meet with him briefly the day before the surgery. Theresa told me that some patients don’t even ask to meet with him, laying eyes on him for the first time just prior to letting him cut them open. Ack!

She also told me that because of the anterior approach to the spine, I won’t be able to have anything by mouth for 3 days. This is what I’m dreading the most. I do like to eat and am worried about what my stomach will feel like. I get all gurgly after not eating for about 6 hours, I can’t picture three days! But I will definitely be on morphine and out of it from the surgery for at least two of those days so I’m hoping it won’t be too bad.

The operation itself lasts about 3 hours. Once Dr. Wernsing opens me up, Dr. B. will go in and insert the ProDisc(s) in L5-S1 and (if he can fit it) L4-5. Then they’ll close that incision, turn me over and cut again (this one Dr. B. can handle as there are no organs in the way to confuse him, ha) and fuse L3-4, then saw through the bone grafts in my thoracic region and take out the metal rods that have been in there for 20 years.

It’ll be at least two to three days till I can get up out of bed on my own, though they will help me to stand up and take a few steps, if I’m able, the day after surgery. I’ll have a catheter and a pee bag so I won’t have to worry about using a bed pan. Yay! Life is good when you have a pee bag.

Oh, and she also told me that since they’ll need access to the incisions on my front and back, wearing my own pajamas is out. Tune in tomorrow for pix of my own chic handmade hospital gowns!

My surgery has been scheduled for December 6th. yay!

Aetna approved a fusion and one disc and we will pay out of pocket (GRRR!) for the second disc (assuming Dr. B. can pry the vertebrae apart far enough to get the second one in). I go down to Philly on the 27th for pre-admission testing, and to donate a pint of blood. We’re hoping that Tyler will be able to observe the surgery and maybe (if he doesn’t pass out!) take some photos during the procedure.

I'm working on a blog entry now, and will have many more details after the 27th.

Health Careless II

Got a call from someone named Melissa, Melinda, Melanie, whatever, some minion of Maureen (yes, this tactless clerk has minions). She was calling to tell me that the claim that was submitted to Aetna for the three level replacement was ... wait for it ... denied. She started to tell me that if I wanted, I could appeal. That was when I stopped her.

"Listen, I think you are missing some information," I tell her. I explain that we already knew about the insurance company denying the claim, as we'd been notified last week when we got our online statement from Aetna, but we didn't sweat it because Dr. B. had just told us that he was resubmitting two new configurations to them that had a good chance of being approved (since we'd be paying out of pocket for some of it). I was more than a little concerned because

a) When we saw Dr. B. on the 25th, he said they were going to get to work on it "right away." A week later is "right away?"

and

b) Maureen and her posse are the ones that are supposed to be up on all the insurance company stuff! That's what they do, that's their job. How come they didn't even know that there had been a change to what was being submitted? It didn't sound to me like they were working in the same office I'd been in the previous Friday. It also didn't sound like any of the new configurations we'd talked about with Dr. B. had even made it to the insurance company yet.

MM (Maureen's Minion) shuffled some papers around and said she didn't have my papers in front of her (then why was she calling me? To recite the same gloomy crap she says to every one else?)but that she would "look around" and get back to me.

I hung up and called Theresa, Dr. B's NP. Normally I wouldn't call her, since she hates talking to patients, but figured I would get her voice mail and so wouldn't have to have any actual interaction with her and of course I was right. I told her that I'd been to see Dr. Balderston last Friday (like she hadn't seen me hobbling down the hall with my cane and looked right through me, yeah) and that we'd discussed resubmitting two new configurations of the surgery to the insurance company, and why did Maureen and her minions not know of it since they were the ones that were supposed to get working on it "right away" last week?

I also told her that she was to tell that whole office, Maureen and all of her minions, to lose my phone number, that the last thing I needed was these women calling with all this negative news on top of everything else. Just call me when you've got it together, ok? Why do I have to be reminded every step of the way that I'm being shafted by the insurance company? I gave her Tyler's number to call back as I'd just as soon not have her get back to me, adding that she didn't seem to anxious to talk to patients either.

About a half an hour later, Tyler gets a call from a very apologetic Maureen, saying that she had just gotten the paperwork (explaining the various steps in between my appointment and her and her minions) and that it would be submitted tomorrow. Since we are coming up on the December 6th date that Dr. B. had penciled in for my surgery, the absolute last date we could get approval and still make that date is this Friday, the 10th.

So now I'm in another set of knots waiting for Friday, wondering if they'll hear back from the insurance company in time so the surgery won't have to be delayed again, and if it does have to be rescheduled, let's hope, for all our sakes, that someone besides Maureen or her minions calls to let me know.

A Straight Line

Supposedly the shortest distance between two points is a straight line. Unfortunately, the shortest distance between me and the surgery I need seems to be a more zig-zagged trajectory, involving several different versions of what is to be done to me for the benefit of the insurance company, along with a liberal sprinkling of our cash.

After all the waiting to see Dr. Balderston, after all the anxious days and weeks wondering what was happening to my body, fretting over the insurance company delays and frustrated with not hearing back from anyone in his office, when he walked in and started off with his usual, “talk to me,” I could barely formulate a sentence. I was too terrified of what the answers would be to ask the questions I had. I’d been sick, literally sick to my stomach, for a few nights in a row, worried about the visit, and the outcome.

We looked at the xrays from September, and he showed me where the vertebrae had slid to the side (see picture below, click to see it larger), something that happened just in the last six months or so.



I also saw how the other disc had collapsed completely, leaving the vertebrae to grind together, bone on bone. Just below that was the disc that collapsed unevenly, causing me to pitch forward.

Click to see larger:



When I asked what the possible timeline was, he grimaced, saying he didn’t have a crystal ball, but then started to say something about how they had had “some luck” with some insurance companies by just submitting for the fusion (he had planned to fuse one of my vertebrae, the L3-4 along with putting in the two ProDiscs at L5-S1 and possibly L4-5 if he can pry it apart sufficiently) and then submitting that they were also doing an ADR and would the insurance company pay for the additional operating room time, hospitalization, anesthetic, etc., if the patient paid out of pocket for the surgeon’s fee for the installation of the disc and the cost of the device itself. I realize that he can't come straight out and say these things, but the hints went right over my head. Thank goodness Tyler was there and picked up on it. Once he told Dr. B that we would be willing to do that, Dr. B said they would start working on it right away, adding that it would still be another “few weeks at least.” He also said the insurance company personnel were “evil,” that clerks with little or no medical training were making medical decisions and trying to dictate what kind of surgery I and other patients in my situation would have, but that he would make sure that I got the configuration that I need, even if we have to pay for it (Somehow that sounds wrong, but oh well …).

So now they will resubmit to the insurance company for the fusion and one disc we will pay for the rest. It’s very scary and only partly because of the money we’ll be spending that the insurance company should shelling out. What also concerns me is that he doesn’t think we should wait for the insurance company to fool around, but rather that we should just go ahead and do something now, before it’s too late to do anything. This of course only adds to the anxiety that I already have about every step that I take putting me closer and closer to inoperability and never standing up straight again. He’s penciled me in again for December 6th and hopefully this time the line will go straight from here to there.

Everyone Knows Best

I've got my appointment with Dr. B. tomorrow in Philly though I can't imagine he'll have any good news for me yet as far as the insurance company goes. More on that later.

Last week I had two, count 'em, two doctors appointments. I had to see the periodontist and the podiatrist (my orthotics are literally in pieces in my shoes, not good for someone who has trouble walking anyway). Yes, normally I would only schedule one of these appointments a week since I can't take the excitement of actually going outside of the one square block that I live on too often, but I threw caution to the wind as I thought when I made the appointments that I might be having surgery soon, so it would be a good idea to get all the other stuff out of the way.

I've been putting off all the other little maintenance health appointments (got the eye doctor next week, trying to make an appointment for a mammorgram too) because I just can't bear to explain to anyone else what's going on when they look at me and say, "What happened to you?!" I'm sad and depressed about it and it makes me sadder and more depressed to have to talk about it. So I have to explain as succinctly as possible what is going on and what is to be done about it. Then I have to hear their diagnosis/suggestions/war stories. I guess because back pain is prevalent that almost everyone has experienced it to some degree, almost everyone thinks they are qualified to offer me advice.

The periodontist (gum doctor) suggested I read this book, basically implying that my back problems are all in my mind. I might accept this, except that I've seen my xrays, and they aren't of my brain. As the hygenist was taking off my bib and raising up the chair (which I'd asked her to warn me if she was going to do and she did as she was ratcheting it, grrr!), she said, "So, are you going to get the book?"

That was Tuesday. Friday I see the podiatrist (foot doctor). More explaining about the cane and the way I'm walking, or not, and that no, surgery is not scheduled yet because of Aetna not approving this surgery. His advice? Go to other insurance companies that are approving it and get letters to send to Aetna proving that they are not up to the standards of care of these other companies. He looked at me like he was surprised that I was not writing it all down. I just smiled, nodded and said, "Ok." I didn't even want to launch into the story of how NO insurance companies are paying for it, officially anyway, because he probably would have spent a lot more time lecturing me on how to get around that. But, *sigh* I'm getting very good at steering people away from the subject of my situation and brought up the reason I was there, my orthotics, to divert him.

So tomorrow I see Dr. B. (spine doctor) and hope to at least get some additional information on the surgery since it doesn't seem like there's been any developments on Aetna's side of things yet, as Maureen hasn't called to rub it in, er, I mean tell me about it.

The Queen of Denial

Maureen should not be allowed to talk to patients.

As I said here, according to Maureen, my clain with Aetna will be denied/rejected/refused/disallowed/declined. Then once I get the letter saying a resounding and predicted-numerous-times-by Maureen "NO," I have to decide how I want to appeal. Of course, as you may have read in the last post, this news threw me into a panic. I don’t know the first thing about appealing anything to an insurance company. Do I get an attorney? I’ve seen this kind of thing in movies and on Dateline, no one wins appeals against insurance companies!

So I asked Tyler to call and see what he could find out; he always has better luck getting info. For some reason, none of the staff in Dr. B’s office seem neither to want nor be even slightly equipped to actually communicate with patients. He spoke with the ever elusive Theresa, Dr. B's NP, who tried to immediately transfer him back to Maureen. Once he was allowed to get a sentence out, here’s what she told him about the whole process:

Every insurance company is rejecting any claim for more than one level of ADR. Once they reject mine, Dr. B has attorneys that will handle the appeal and on top of that, he sits on a board that advises insurance companies about the need for surgery, so he's confident that he'll be able to get two levels. In addition, he has several different permutations of the procedure that I need that will get appropriate payment for the hospital (such as charging a bit more for one disc to help offset the cost of the second, etc.) so that I will be assured of getting the two discs I definitely need. If worse comes to worst, Tyler said that we will pay out of pocket for the second disc (buy those t-shirts, people!). It’s all very confusing, not made any less so by the machinations we have to go through to get someone who will actually take the time to look at the big picture and then explain it to us. I guess it is really too much to ask to have someone be a little encouraging and optimistic when speaking with patients who are terrified and in pain, unlike Maureen, the humorless Queen of Denial.

Update

I just had a call from Maureen. She said she heard from the "nurse" at Aetna and that they were sending my file to the Medical Director for review. What does that mean? Maureen said she would be "very very surprised" if the claim was approved because Dr. B. put in for a three level replacement. She said she has never ever seen any insurance company pay for more than one level.

So what's next? She said once they deny it, I'd get a letter saying so and telling me what the appeal process is so that I can proceed with my appeal. My appeal. I asked what that meant and she said that they'd sent all the clinical information to them and on the appeal it was up to me to say what I think the appeal should be. Then she hemmed and hawed and tried to get off the phone. Can anyone explain this?

I'm lost, and sick with discouragement.

Friday morning I get a call from Krista (yes, now I'm naming names!) in Dr. B's office. He had to cancel the appointment for Friday. When she said it I tried not to react, even though my heart fell to my feet again, as it does whenever they call. Tyler says I would be great in a political campaign spinning mundane things about the opposing candidate into the biggest negative news stories because I always immediately think the worst, like they are cancelling the surgery, for what reason I can't imagine, but that's what I think. Anyway, I didn't say anything and neither did she for a few long seconds till she finally asked if I wanted to reschedule. Um, YES? She says the earliest appointment I can get is for the following Friday, the 27th. Of course I agree to it, but I am thinking that October 27th for a follow up appointment does not bode well for an early November surgery date.

Since Maureen (yes, more names! I don't care anymore!) was supposed to call me back at least two weeks ago and never did, I call Tyler and ask him to call and find out what the heck is going on. Also by now the disappointment has set in and I'm crying my head off, not the best frame of mind to try to talk to a doctor's office. Tyler calls and leaves a message and no one calls him back, so he calls again and gets Maureen on the phone. She doesn't remember why she didn't call me back but says that they haven't heard anything at all from Aetna so there would really be nothing to talk about at an appointment anyway. Well, isn't that lovely and casual? It's only a week, right?

No big deal.

Except I was living for that appointment, I was looking forward to it as though it was some kind of a milestone, I thought we'd be in the home stretch after that. A week is an eternity to me, as I'm not getting around too much at all anymore, the days are dragging like you would not believe.

I hate just waiting for time to pass.

There's nothing I can really do until I go to see the doctor next Friday. As I've said before I have mixed feelings about this appointment, on one hand, wanting to go and ask questions and be reassured that I will indeed be having the surgery and perhaps even given a date for it. On the other hand, (and I hate this hand), being told that maybe Aetna hasn't responded, or worse, that they have rejected the request and we'll have to appeal. Last time we were in Dr. B.'s office, he left us with the impression that they knew how to "work the system," meaning they'll wheel and deal with the insurance company to get the operation covered. I hope they know what they're doing.

It doesn't help, either, that I called the woman who is supposedly in touch with the insurance company and is supposed to be coordinating all this to see if there was any other information (like the fact that I was just approved for SSDI) that might help. She said she'd call me back and hasn't, which just makes me crazy. I was saying to my husband the other night that this is just like dating. Do I call back? Why didn't she call me? Maybe she's busy, or maybe she's sick, or maybe I'm never having this surgery and I'll be in a wheelchair soon.

If I got a date for the surgery, then I could start planning; I could start to line up who's going to take care of Tony, maybe get some new pajamas to wear, get my hair cut and my legs waxed in anticipation of a two week hospital stay. But for now there's really nothing I can do except wait for time to pass.

We spoke to Dr. B's office last week with questions about my activities. Last time I spoke with him he told me to stay strong and stretch, but things are going downhill, literally, by the week so I was worried that my efforts to stay active were somehow harming me. Tyler spoke to Theresa who said that pain aside, swimming was good (check) and that I should not be doing anything high impact (yeah, right, there goes that Salsa Step class I was signed up for) or carrying any weights. I've switched my upper body workout from free weights to machines to give me a bit more support, as I'm now afraid that bicep curls have been wearing down my discs. That's ridiculous, of course, I know that, but still.

I go back to see Dr. B on October 20th and I'm terrified that after all this time I'm going to either be denied by the insurance company or my discs will have deteriorated to the point where the disc won't physically fit. I'm anxious beyond belief about this, but all I can really do is wait it out till next week, something I've never been good at.