So yesterday I was stuck in classroom training, learning about legal updates and human trafficking. You know, upbeat stuff. Our phones have to be switched to silent during the classes, and when I got home, I noticed I had a missed call. It was from the orthopedist’s office, so I immediately called back, hoping everything was a go on the surgery front.
The scheduler called me – and apparently six other patients – to let me know my surgery was canceled.
The scheduler – Cathy, a very nice woman – said my insurance provider first stated the insurance wouldn’t cover the surgery (which is ridiculous) then added the surgeon was not in their medical group (which is a lie). The insurance company approved my surgery Wednesday, then decided to revoke is Friday. This after I passed the surgery clearance and was ready to get the Covid swab. I guess I should be thankful they told me eleven days out and not the night before…
Cathy said I was the last patient to be told, and after a day of explaining why this happened to all those people, she was very emotional. “I don’t know what to say to you. I know you’re in a lot of pain.”
I was mostly quiet during the phone call, numb to the fact that I don’t know when – or if – I will every have the surgery. It’s stressful because the surgeon said the bicep is hanging by a thread. What am I supposed to do if it detaches?
You know, the only decent benefit from my job is the healthcare. It’s usually top-notch. Lately though, the insurance has us jumping through hoops for every little detail. I guess it’s worse for surgeries because I was told I was cleared… until I wasn’t. I mean, if the insurance is substandard now, why do I keep working here? Why have I wasted more than half my life in a job where “our betters” despise us?
Cathy said she thinks this has to do with Covid and some medical professionals not wanting to catch the strain. If that’s the case, those people need to resign and find another line of work. My surgeon, for his part, is royally pissed, and said he would continue pushing them to get me into the operating room. That said, I’ve been told it could be weeks… or months, and in the meantime I’m supposed to live with the excruciating pain.