"I AM NOT ANIMAL!"
Okay. So today, for the first time, I heard it. Maybe because nowadays I am more attuned to what is being said to me in regards to medical treatment, or maybe it's just that my bullshit detector has become more sensitive. I'm like Peter Parker these days. My spider sense is tingling and I don't like what I am feeling...or hearing.
I called MCV today to find an orthopedic surgeon.
Let me give you a little background because the last time you read something I was going the non-traditional route with acupuncture and before that I had been seen by neurosurgery and neurology.
I have a theory based on a friend's health problems and experiences. My friend was experiencing almost identical symptoms as I and as it turned out, had a shattered disc in his neck. This disc was showing up as a ghost image (I know. Spooky right?) on his X-rays and MRI's. Once they actually went in and took a look they found very little of the actual disc left.
After three acupuncture sessions, this theory is becoming a little more probable. To me. If Dr. Wang has accomplished anything in these last three sessions, she has relieved some of the stress and pain in my shoulders and neck. Without this additional pain as a distraction, it is clearer TO ME from where the pain is radiating.
It's like getting rid of static on a radio and hearing the music loud and clear. And the music is coming through LOUD and CLEAR. Unfortunately, it's Yoko Ono singing In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida.
Yes. I still have headaches. I have a headache every day I wake up. Bad, ugly, kick-you-in-the-gut headaches. The pain, though, that horrible railroad spike at the base of my skull is there too and everyday it feels like John Henry is driving it home with a 75 lb. hammer.
It feels like bone pain. Bone pain like someone has a crochet needle in between my disc and they're digging into me...digging into me like they're trying to get a piece of corn out from between two back teeth.
Bone means discs. I'm no doctor, but that just makes sense to me and what else is making more and more sense to me is the whole shattered disc theory. Which is like the Lone Gunman Theory because...well...okay..actually...my "Shattered Disc Theory" is nothing at all like "The Lone Gunman Theory" but my other choices were The Theory of Relativity, The Theory of Flight and The Chaos Theory, which I was going to use just because I love the way Jeff Goldblum says 'dinosaur' in Jurassic Park.
So, now I have a theory. I just need a doctor to either prove it or disprove it.
After some research I decided an orthopedic surgeon would be the best way to go. So I called down to my favorite place in the whole wide world, MCV.
And this dear reader, is where the start of my post picks up.
I called the Department of Orthopedics to share my Shattered Disc Theory and to ascertain who would be best to help me. Everything was going swimmingly. The girl, who might have said her name was Sparkle, was pleasant and helpful. She listened without interruption as I explained my problems. She even gave me the name of the doctor who could best help me.
Things were going so well!
Then she asked the question.
"And what type of insurance do you have, sir?"
Bom. Bom. Bommmmm!!
So I told her. I couldn't lie. They would find out. They would. They may not be great about helping you down there at MCV, but when it comes to payment, they're all over the situation.
There was a pause when I told her what type of insurance I had. A pause of two or three seconds. Then I got an answer I hadn't heard yet.
"Well, you are gonna have to get a referral. I can't just make an appointment for you sir."
Sparkle was beginning to lose a little of her twinkle.
Or maybe Twinkle was beginning to lose a little of her sparkle. That's neither here nor there.
This was the first time I've really experienced insurance prejudice. Obvious insurance prejudice.
And then it all became clear. I'd been such a fool. Such a blind fool thinking that there would be someone who would want to help me because that's why they chose this profession. It's why they're wearing the white coats and get to park closer to the building than anybody save the handicapped.
It is all about money and big business.
And because of the financial aid I am on, I am going to be doomed to live in pain.
Do they have any idea of who they are messing with here? No.
I can't change my insurance but I can stay on them like...well...like Rosie O'Donell on a stack of pancakes.
If they give me any flack, I will tell they what I've been saying all along.
"I'm sorry. That doesn't work for me."
and that's Jody with a "y"