I realize this is getting old, but Joan and I are in the middle of another fine encounter with the world's greatest healthcare system. In case you missed it, Joan had a tumor removed from her leg, which turned out thankfully not to be cancerous, but the surgical wound got infected, she ended up in the hospital for a week and, you know, it was not fun. Well, she is on the mend from the infection. After three weeks they took her off the IV antibiotics. (Thank God. I kept thinking one of those days I was gonna accidentally put an air bubble in that thing, kill Joan and spend the rest of my life on Death Row.) Anyway, she was planning to go to work today for the first time in almost five weeks, but that's been forestalled by the arrival of a kidney stone.
Joan isn't supposed to have kidney stones. The last time she had one, they went in surgically through her back, vaccuumed out all the other unindicted co-conspirators and declared her stone-free. Yet, here one is, 8 mm and full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. It's not going to leave the building on its own; it is too big for that. So guess what? It's time for another surgery! Monday, 7 am. Or whenever they get to her. Meanwhile, she's high as a kite on Norco, still at home and I worry she's gonna call up QVC and order $3,000 worth of miscellaneous plastic crap, or worse, unset gemstones.
And moi? Oh, I'm just FINE, thank you very large.
Excuse me, but it was supposed to be my turn to have a complete meltdown. I'm the one in all that trouble at work, possibly about to lose my job, having a very entertaining switch from Antidepressant A to Antidepressant B, trying to cope with my out-of-control sugar fixation and having trouble even hauling myself to the pool. But no. Sorry, meltdown canceled. Instead I have to pull everything together, assume the persona of a mature, responsible adult and Handle This. Tonight when I get home I gotta lay out all the medical bills, figure out how much we don't have to pay for them and decide who gets paid first, last, and how much. Not to mention poring through the hospital bill to make sure we didn't get charged $92.50 for plastic light handle covers in the OR and a pacemaker, or something. I do this at work and I gotta tell you, hospital billing offices are staffed with hundreds of chimpanzees that hammer out random stuff on typewriters in an attempt to recreate the works of Shakespeare. I mean, I could tell you stories but you probably saw the $92.50 light handle covers on your last bill, too.
Anyway. Joan will be okay. The kidney stone will be evicted and things will go back to normal, somewhat. Hey, we're past the out of pocket maximum, so we get one surgery for free when paying full price for an adult. But still. I feel cheated. Just once I'd like to be the one that gets fussed over. If nobody minds.