Angela racing? Huh? Remember the story of the tortoise and the hare? Slow and steady wins the race, right? My being called slow is, wellll, a polite understatement. And steady? Laughable! So what race do I speak of?
As my Liberation date approaches my mind has been racing. To explain, I mean wandering at break neck speeds. It's the worst at night. When my head hits the pillow - BAM! - my mind goes in to overdrive.
I sit here now at 20 'til 8 this gorgeous Monday morning mentally exhausted. So much to do. The house needs straightening. Laundry needs done. We need packed. The boys need packed. Do we have enough food to send with Gooch? And yet all I feel like doing is blogging. Hmmm . . .
I'm hoping I can get some of this gunk out of my head by 9 or 10 and then get down to business. Or perhaps I'll have a breakfast break at that point and return to the couch to bestow upon you dear readers a second installment. Alas, the sermon my pastor gave yesterday deserves an entry all it's own.
But back to the title. Winning the Race. Winning Hell!? I just want to finish the race! So let's purge some of that gobbaley goo. First things first - gobbaley goo? My pastor, when explaining something, often refers to what Webster says. I, however, will refer to what Angela says.
Angela likens gobbaley goo to miscellaneous paraphernalia repeatedly found in a junk drawer. Or the plethora of treasures that accumulate at the bottom of a purse. Gobbaley goo can be anything that gets in ones way. A distraction. i.e. defining a nonsense word vs. just getting down to the meat and potatoes.
All right, already! Here it goes. It's just after 8 now and although I don't know what time it is in Atlanta I'm already on edge about Jason calling them. Will he remember to call? Will they call him? Why does it matter? INSURANCE! Remember? We were supposed to hear back Friday. No news is good news, right?
Why does it matter? O.K. It shouldn't I guess, but it does. We are very blessed to have loving, caring family that are willing to help us out financially - should we need it. Many have offered. Others, including even my 'lil sis, have snuck in gifts here and there.
Crappy timing really. Just before Christmas. Plus we just had to license and insure our fleet of vehicles. And our fall installment of super high Park Ridge property taxes was just due. You know what? I accept cash, checks, money orders, PayPal and all major credit cards. Ha! Only kidding . . . maybe!
In all seriousness though we are very lucky. Jason does well. And we are very proud people. We don't like to ask for anything. We prefer to be the givers. And should this work out we do plan to pay our good fortune forward the best that we can. Back to why I've bitten all my nails off . . .
1. Many, many MSers that need this procedure as much or even more than me, sadly may not have the resources we are blessed to have. Thus, insurance needs to start covering this! PERIOD!
2. It's an everyday procedure covered for anyone else who needs it. Just because it's "unproven" to help out those of us with MS, geesh! Let me hop on my soap box a second. I'll be careful. Promise.
[Screw double blind, seven year long trials! People with MS can and very often do get or have other diseases! For example if I have a heart attack as did my Dad in his 40s - - - will you not allow me a cardiologist since I have MS?] Deep Breaths, Angela! O.K. I'm down from the soap box, safe and sound.
3. Common sense nimrods! My MS related meds are just over $2,000 per month. So that's 2100 x 12 = $25,200 per year on meds alone. That doesn't even take into account assistive devices or therapies, etc. Anyways, the procedure is costing anywhere between $9,000 and $15,000. DO THE MATH!!! Insurance companies could be saving money. Where'd that soap box go?
[Not to mention once better there's prolly other expensive meds I won't need. Plus less Doc visits. Plus, I might could even return to the workforce. You might not even need to cover me anymore as my new job might provide better coverage. Plus I'll need a new car. New clothes. Think of the economy.] O.K. so the soap box broke, but I'm fine. Enuff already!
1, 2, and 3. Enough of an argument as to why insurance should cover this, right? I think so. You think so. Right? I'm preaching to the choir. A sidenote: Since I began inclined bed therapy and high blood pressure medicine I have not cost my insurance for any hospital stays. Coincidence or concrete correlation that perhaps many of my debilitating symptoms are due to a blood flow disturbance? A treatable venous disease. Hmmmmm.
Knock on wood, right? I am. Knocking HARD! It had been 2 years hospital stay free before CCSVI. So now, nearly a year later. Do the math. 2 + 1 = 3. Wow! Three years and counting hospital stay free. Yay, me! To recap, the BP meds, I believe, have done wonders.
Sure, they were prescribed because my MS meds cause high BP. Whatever! God forbid I could simply have inherited the predisposition for the condition from my Father who fought it most of his life. Again, PEOPLE WITH MS CAN AND DO GET OTHER DISEASES.
Just to clarify: Let's say we break a leg. Will you treat it, Doc? Will you let me have an x-ray? Will you set it and cast it? I do have MS. And admittedly I prolly fell due to the balance issues I suffer from - again, related to the MS. Clear yet?
Say we get cavities too. Is it acceptable to be seen by a dentist since the MS caused the cavity? Huh? MS fatigue causes me to not brush as often as I should. And the rare times I find the energy to floss my MS riddled hands and fingers are extremely uncooperative. Thus MS equals cavities. Will insurance pay for a filling?
So I need my soap box again. You know what? Why don't I just stay on it. You don't mind, do you? Of course I'll have to sit on it because again, due to the MS, standing for any length of time is nearly impossible.
[Back to fillings. Why not just let our teeth rot out? If the Lord tarries and we don't go out in some big kaboom we will eventually need to be spoon fed liquids or worse yet, thru a feeding tube. Too much, you say? But it's the truth. Just the facts ma'am. And so, as gruesome as they may be, it's the facts I'm givin' ya!]
So why do I want the insurance so bad? Refer to 1-3 above. And I don't wanna empty our savings. I don't wanna take from others savings. I don't wanna borrow against an already paid for vehicle. I don't wanna re-mortgage the house. And I'm sure as shit not gonna sell my soul to the devil.
Thus, if insurance don't pay I say it wasn't meant to be. And this was gonna be it at least until it becomes more recognized as real treatment. Hopefully I wouldn't be too far gone in 7 to 10 years. Blah, blah, pity party, blah. GAME OVER. I need to get on with life. The boys need a Christmas. Aside from football I'd really been neglecting my kiddos.
So my Momma tried to put things into perspective for me. She says, "Well, what would you do if it was one of the boys that needed it?" And my response: WHAT THE HELL? Well, I'd have already been on a plane and had him treated in Poland. And been back again for appropriate follow-up.
Screw insurance. "My boy?" I asked. "One of my boys?" I would have taken from anyone willing to give. I would have borrowed against anything the bank would have let me. I would have been selling a kidney or two depending on the price of plane tickets. I was offended and had quite literally gone off on her - my dear Mom.
She waited for me to quiet. And then with a tearful voice she says, "You and your sister are MY boys." Hmmmm. Wow! I guess so. Really makes you think, don't it? Which brings me to another conundrum. If I do end up needing help do I take it on this unknown doc who now has nearly 20 procedures under his belt OR wait for my man Sclafani?
Still not good enuff? Costa Rica has done 350 now. Poland started waaay before them. And there's always Italy, home of Zamboni himself. Just sayin' . . . If it were one of my boys. And for the price plus travel I'd wanna be sure to get the best possible treatment. So why not for myself? Why'd I wait around in the first place and attempt to have it done near home? FAILED. Remember?
9 o'clock on the dot and Jason calls. I can tell by his tone it can't be good. Blah, blah, blah, blah. "Clinical notes." What? Atlanta called him before he'd even thought about contacting them. They say our insurance asked for clinical notes. They said they didn't have any but gave them all the proper codes. And they prolly wouldn't hear back themselves 'til the 17th. SILENCE.
"You still there?" asks Jason. "Yeh," I say, "So?". Jason replies, "So we're goin' anyway. We'll find out when we get there." Thus, if it's meant to be, it'll be. Sidenote: Trust in the Lord. Questions? See the next blog installment based on my Uncle's sermon from yesterday.
So I return to the couch. Thankfully not devastated. They could have flat out said no. So I'll just wait longer for the no . . . or yes. Whatever. I'm disappointed, but there's still hope. Back to the blog. More gobbaley goo to clear out.
I still haven't made my before video! That's really eatin' at me. I majored in broadcasting. I've been behind the camera since we got our first one when I was 12. I love editing video. Adding visual and sound effects. Why can't I get a simple video done? I keep going over and over what I want it to be in my head. Clutter, I tell ya! Clutter I don't need.
And clutter being a perfect segway into my next bit. I need to get this house picked up. I'm proud to announce that I'd been doing a phenomenal job keeping it up since it's last big cleaning before our Halloween party. But these last three, maybe four days - I've grown a bit distracted. Lax, even. My bad!
I got alot on my mind people. Remember? It's racing!