It’s frustrating to me that despite all the things I’m trying to do, my spine keeps getting worse and the pain gets more intolerable by the day. Through all this pain, I thought of things to write when reaching out to my insurance company, telling them that they don’t prioritize patient care, that they must be trained to not empathize with people, and other things like that, but that’s just my pain speaking for me.
I’m not sure whether it’s the amount of effort to deal with that causes stress on my spine or that it all just pops up on bad spine days, but I wrote some severe critiques of my situations toward people today. One such message: “While this process has – and not “may have” – caused frustration and constant, daily concern, I will forward [this] phone number along to [the spine doctor] to see what can be done.”
My insurance company wants to take as long as possible to assess my situation remotely before approving anything. This could lead to my permanent disability. They are not particularly concerned. I met with my spine doctor again today, the one that would be doing surgery, if things continue to decrease, and it looks like, yes, my left leg and foot have decreased in mobility. I’m going to do these next steps tomorrow, when I’m rested…
Ever just get a bad feeling about how something will go, so then you act decisively, even if it seems counterintuitive? I’d been scheduled for an injection of some chemical or another into my spine for two months now. They were never clear what it was. I asked via their email form four times. No reply, when normally they’d call me same-day. When I canceled, they called, with the name of the medication; reluctantly, hesitantly.
If you consider the pain of dealing with your health condition, consider having about twice the tolerance dealing with your insurance. These people are making it twice as difficult as it needs to be for me. I suppose at least I am making progress, but it is not through their help or guidance at all. If it were up to them, I would be waiting around for months. My spine might not have that long…
And now I must wait for the two or so weeks before I get an expert opinion to decide how my case will go. I received a generic message going over all of the information just now. It’s all fairly straightforward, so instead, I’ll paste in my response below and write about my feelings, because it’s been tough these past few days, especially. I’ve lost a lot of strength. I have no appetite. Motivation: decreasing…
I didn’t recognize the number that called about a half-hour ago, but I’ve been trying to answer the phone when I’m awake and not in significant pain, even if it’s a scam call, or even when it is. It was my manager. After I sent in my long-term disability email, I hadn’t heard a reply back, so I figured, well, shit, my ship’s come in, I’m being called to be told I’m let go. Worse.
It’s been rough for me to deal with all the loops I have to jump through to get my health sorted out when my health is in such disrepair. I would imagine there must be some sort of sadism involved because if it’s not one thing, it’s another, and if it’s not one battle to fight, it’s another. I barely have the energy to hold a small box without my spine hurting for hours after.
My case was denied perhaps because my primary care physician’s office has been so guarded about withholding any information that I told them that they’ve weaponized HIPAA. I spent 45 minutes on the phone with one of my insurance companies trying my best to explain the situation. Every time I try to do anything to get my health back on track, it seems like there’s one problem after another. It’s easier to ignore it, I suppose.
I used to often visit the thrift store that would hire people from the nearby AA/NA meetings early on into my recovery. As my spine is recovering, as my body is growing its strength back, and as I feel more able to do more things again, my mind’s memories are returning through that thrift store. While I can’t remember the color of carpet – probably beige – but do remember broader sensations. It feels like I’m re-recovering.