philosophy at age eight

“If you cannot control your peanut butter, you cannot expect to control your life.”
~ Judah-ism

Saturday, April 16, 2011

another jab of the needle for me

I'm not sure if I've shared this here, but I've been told, as a result of that lovely Arthrogram I underwent recently, that I need the same surgery on my left hip that I had just last year on my right.

Since I maxed my auto insurance's Personal Injury Protection almost a year ago, I've been paying for my medical expenses resulting from getting run over by a truck in downtown Seattle with my personal Medical Insurance... which is to say that, because of the lovely High Deductible plans, I've been paying for much of it out of my own pocket.  I can only hope that whatever settlement I eventually get will cover all the medical debt we've racked up in the last year+. 

Despite the fact that the High Deductible medical plan feels like we're paying for it all ourselves, in the interest of reaching that deductible and catching a financial break, I still have to jump through whatever hoops my insurance company decides I have to jump through to obtain their approval for the cost of the surgery to count against my deductible. The first hoop my insurance is demanding I jump through before they'll even consider approving the surgery is a cortisone shot into my left hip.  This is very familiar -- I had a cortisone shot in my right hip, prior to the last surgery, with barely more than a week of relief before it wore off.

Do I seem unhappy?  I am unhappy.  Extremely so.

Imagine this (which is a scan of a cortisone
shot to a shoulder joint, rather than a hip) only
it's coming in from the front of my hip, right
next to my groin, instead. And tell me that
doesn't make you cross your legs, and cringe.
This is the fourth time since the accident that I've had to lay down so some doctor can tie up my feet so I don't twitch wrong, then shove a needle so deep inside my hip that he has to constantly screen it through a cat scan to make sure he's on the right path. During the arthrograms, they then inject contrast dye into the joint so that the MRI can do its thing. For the cortisone shots, they use an even thicker needle--omg, I'm making myself nauseous remembering, why am I doing this to myself?!--because they have to insert this cortisone cream (read: steroids) into the joint. And, I'm just going to share here, there is a ring of tissue through which the needle needs to punch to enter the joint, and it makes me stomach flutter just thinking about it. Ugh. It's not just that it's really painful, it's more that I hate needles, hate the idea of it entering my body... and even if they inject enough local to make you sick afterward, there is no way they can numb you enough that you don't feel that pressure punching through, invading really deep inside.
What's fucking Valium,
am I a hysterical,
Georgian wilting flower?

I haven't managed to get through any of these procedures without crying all over the stupid table. I'm just too afraid of needles. I spent all morning last week negotiating with the Dr.'s office, begging for anesthesia, gas, anything to just knock me out so I don't have to experience it again. I want to hurl my lunch just thinking about it. But apparently, Valium is the lowest they will go.

Damn them. 

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