Apparently insurance has "approved" the neurostimulator trial.
Hey, definitely a start. But I agree that i hate when you don't know how much things will cost. Or, say, when you are filling out your FSA paperwork, because work sent a handy "the deadline is 2/28!" email this morning, and the dentist info seems to be saying that you paid some random amount of $163.84, but still owe $350 or something, but maybe insurance will cover that, or maybe all but $20 or something?? Seriously weird. Luckily, with that and a couple of prescription receipts, I"ve covered the $250 I put in this year. Next year, I put in the max. And will immediately spend it.
Matt - my condolences. What a sad loss.
Man, so I hate when you've been banging your head against your side of a task because you're pretty sure that someone messed up somewhere and it was probably you, and then, like six months later, you discover it really wasn't on your side at all and if you'd just made a simple phone call you could have cleared it all up months ago.
Now admittedly, I should be pissy at their side, but since they were all so nice and apologetic when I finally did call, I'm placated, and anyway, account moving forward now, sheesh!
All sympathies to Matt's family.
Matt, I hope your family has a lot of strength right now...or the freedom to not have any at all, if that's what it takes.
It's a trial before the Big Installation, right? That seems worth doing to me. From outside your body/life/self, obviously.
It's still two paddles inserted into my spinal area, a remote control, a battery pack on my hip, and a foam collar for a week.
They're gonna
love
giving me pain meds all gussied up like that, I'm sure of it.
Damn, I bought a Lion bar a few weeks ago, and I finally opened it, and DELICIOUS. I don't need delicious chocolate bars. At least it is too much for me to finish at a sitting.
Matt, My sympathies to your family.
I found some pics of my Jamaican high school friends and took them to show to my Jamaican co-worker. As she flipped through (she found one intensely familiar), she pointed to a white friend and asked "Mother?"
Uh, that's a 14 year old white former classmate. I forget some people think I'm biracial, but Joanne Fletcher is NOT my mother. Heaven forfend!
It's still two paddles inserted into my spinal area, a remote control, a battery pack on my hip, and a foam collar for a week.
Oh yikes.
So there's a work thing that I've been hiding from for months and am finally trying to deal with and it's so hard, because I really did screw it up, and ugh.
