Summer storm sky It’s been another very difficult summer. A different kind of difficult than last summer to be sure, but again, not one I’d ever want to repeat.
And the culmination of the days of Max’s pain and increasing disability?
Back surgery.
Again.
The thought of facing that experience, again, has been daunting. He couldn’t look the possibility in the eye for weeks and weeks, but eventually, pain pushed him over the wall of “it couldn’t be a back issue” into the office of the surgeon who helped him so effectively four years ago.
The time from first appointment to MRI to follow-up appointment was six days to get in, two days until the MRI, five days for the follow-up, and no surprise to either of us, we came home with a surgery date. Which was only a dozen days later. Amazing. And hard as it all was, the process was blessedly streamlined and very reassuring. Although it took a while, I had to eventually land on the truth that “You’re always good,” even when life was dishing up a main course that was hard to swallow.
And then this week happened, when someone decided that this was a pre-existing condition. (Which it is not. I won’t go into the elaborate details.) A request for review was made...and then a second request, complete with images showing that four years ago these areas were fine, intact, and problem free. My husband’s pre-existing condition is country life...animals. And gardening. And a wood furnace. And a dozen other back intensive hobbies/activities.
So, I talked to people on the phone. So many people. For hours. The doctor’s office. The insurance rep. The hospital billing department. And case management. And repeat. But at the end of the day i.e., 4:30 (wow, people leave offices early these days...) I was the (un)lucky person who has the heartbreaking job of telling a man who has pain relief only when he’s lying down that his Monday surgery which the doctor promised would fix this problem has been cancelled.
For the insurance to cover it, he’d have to wait another year and four months. (We signed up last January, and we have to be enrolled for 36 months before they’ll cover a pre-existing condition. Even though this isn’t that.) So sure, we’ll just put life on hold and wait until then??
We looked at becoming “self-pay...” Cash in retirement, or back surgery? Hmmm. And even that couldn’t happen by Monday.
So, “somebody” from the insurance group will have a relaxing pain-free evening, and she will not have to live out the consequences of her own decision by at least being the person to notify the patient of the decision.
And “somebody” from the hospital who made an arbitrary decision about ability to pay without even talking to the patient?!?! will have an early dinner tonight (all the case managers are gone for the day...it was 4:25) and will not have to bear the burden of the mouse click canceling surgery for someone he has never met or even spoken to on the phone.
And I’m angry and frustrated and discouraged and full of questions. I’ve had better days. (Worse ones too, but not recently.) My whole world feels a little stormy.
And the culmination of the days of Max’s pain and increasing disability?
Back surgery.
Again.
The thought of facing that experience, again, has been daunting. He couldn’t look the possibility in the eye for weeks and weeks, but eventually, pain pushed him over the wall of “it couldn’t be a back issue” into the office of the surgeon who helped him so effectively four years ago.
The time from first appointment to MRI to follow-up appointment was six days to get in, two days until the MRI, five days for the follow-up, and no surprise to either of us, we came home with a surgery date. Which was only a dozen days later. Amazing. And hard as it all was, the process was blessedly streamlined and very reassuring. Although it took a while, I had to eventually land on the truth that “You’re always good,” even when life was dishing up a main course that was hard to swallow.
And then this week happened, when someone decided that this was a pre-existing condition. (Which it is not. I won’t go into the elaborate details.) A request for review was made...and then a second request, complete with images showing that four years ago these areas were fine, intact, and problem free. My husband’s pre-existing condition is country life...animals. And gardening. And a wood furnace. And a dozen other back intensive hobbies/activities.
So, I talked to people on the phone. So many people. For hours. The doctor’s office. The insurance rep. The hospital billing department. And case management. And repeat. But at the end of the day i.e., 4:30 (wow, people leave offices early these days...) I was the (un)lucky person who has the heartbreaking job of telling a man who has pain relief only when he’s lying down that his Monday surgery which the doctor promised would fix this problem has been cancelled.
For the insurance to cover it, he’d have to wait another year and four months. (We signed up last January, and we have to be enrolled for 36 months before they’ll cover a pre-existing condition. Even though this isn’t that.) So sure, we’ll just put life on hold and wait until then??
We looked at becoming “self-pay...” Cash in retirement, or back surgery? Hmmm. And even that couldn’t happen by Monday.
So, “somebody” from the insurance group will have a relaxing pain-free evening, and she will not have to live out the consequences of her own decision by at least being the person to notify the patient of the decision.
And “somebody” from the hospital who made an arbitrary decision about ability to pay without even talking to the patient?!?! will have an early dinner tonight (all the case managers are gone for the day...it was 4:25) and will not have to bear the burden of the mouse click canceling surgery for someone he has never met or even spoken to on the phone.
And I’m angry and frustrated and discouraged and full of questions. I’ve had better days. (Worse ones too, but not recently.) My whole world feels a little stormy.
Storm clouds brooding over Hickory Lane.
As the winds rise and clouds roll in, the question whispers in my soul –
Now? Is God still good? Did you mean it?
I must return to my yes.
It’s faint(hearted) and feeble; sometimes it’s just a whisper. And while I’d still like some kind of miraculous turnabout, or at least an explanation, a glimpse of “the greater good," this is what I'm hearing: “Trust Me.”
I’ve had some moments along the way when I’ve imagined, “NOW I’ve got this trust thing down; I can rest unwaveringly.” But no. My soul’s legs feel a little wobbly just now, more than a little weak, and I’m once again looking for someplace to lean. (As my grandson so sweetly says when he’s having trouble, “A little help over here, please.”) I think that's the perfect prayer for this day, this season: “A little help over here, please...”
Days like this, I find that I need to remind myself, it’s either true or it isn’t.
I am either going to believe it now and live that way,
or there’s no point in ever saying I believe anything.
And this I do believe - the One on whom I lean hard when storms blow wild and won’t let up, when it’s dark out there, and in here too, that One is faithful. Completely trustworthy.
Ominous sky. Gathering storm. Keep walking. Heading home.
When the answer is no or wait or “none of the above,” or God only knows what else (yes, God knows.)-
the one bit I can count on is the One.
Unwavering Presence in my present moments, every one of them.
One day at a time, the One, walking with me.
I’ve got to stand on what I have found to be true every day of my life up to this day.
You’re always good.
Always good.
You will not be sorry you took the time to click through this link and spent 3:31 minutes listening to this powerful song which I cannot stop hearing, humming, holding. So much truth to carry with me through every stormy day... (I've posted the lyrics below.)
Always Good
Do You remember how Mary was grieving?
How You wept and she fell at Your feet?
If it's true that You know what I'm feeling
Could it be that You're weeping with me?
Arise, O Lord, and save me, there's nowhere else to go
You're always good, always good
Somehow this sorrow is shaping my heart like it should
And You're always good, always good
It's so hard to know what You're doing
So why won't You tell it all plain?
But You said You'd come back on the third day
And Peter missed it again and again
So maybe the answer surrounds us and we don't have eyes to see
that you're always good, always good
This heartache is moving me closer than joy ever could
And You're always good
My God, my God, be near me, there's nowhere else to go
And Lord, if You can hear me, please help Your child to know
That You're always good, always good
As we try to believe what is not meant to be understood
Will You help us to trust Your intentions for us are still good?
'Cause You laid down Your life and You suffered like I never could
And You're always good, always good
You're always good, always good
Do You remember how Mary was grieving?
How You wept and she fell at Your feet?
If it's true that You know what I'm feeling
Could it be that You're weeping with me?
Arise, O Lord, and save me, there's nowhere else to go
You're always good, always good
Somehow this sorrow is shaping my heart like it should
And You're always good, always good
It's so hard to know what You're doing
So why won't You tell it all plain?
But You said You'd come back on the third day
And Peter missed it again and again
So maybe the answer surrounds us and we don't have eyes to see
that you're always good, always good
This heartache is moving me closer than joy ever could
And You're always good
My God, my God, be near me, there's nowhere else to go
And Lord, if You can hear me, please help Your child to know
That You're always good, always good
As we try to believe what is not meant to be understood
Will You help us to trust Your intentions for us are still good?
'Cause You laid down Your life and You suffered like I never could
And You're always good, always good
You're always good, always good
you know what I'm humming... HumminB
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