Some of you may have read about my long saga with a spine that’s like a splintered tree branch half hanging on compounded with a crushed vertebra that remains extremely painful despite a kyphoplasty that didn’t work.
So, onward to a third corrective surgery with a third titanium cage, complicated by the cement ball left in my spine from the kyphoplasty and by the fact that the hospital no longer contracts with the maker of the old cages, meaning that the nuts and bolts that hold them together are not compatible with the new versions and everything needs to be replaced. I wish I were kidding.
I finally, after weeks of asking, got a firm date for the surgery. Yesterday, as is the custom around here, I called the hospital in the afternoon to learn my arrival time. 10am Wednesday, August 26. Fine. I’m ready, I’ve been planning for days.
A few minutes later: an unexpected call from the surgeon’s office. Hi. Sorry to tell you no surgery tomorrow. Was the doctor hit by a car or something? Worse. My insurance company, Excellus, hadn’t given approval. What, they turned it down? Well, no. They didn’t approve and they didn’t not approve. They just never bothered to respond no matter how many times the office called them. There was a legal flat deadline of 3pm yesterday. I got the call at 3:39.
I’m in limbo. I’m the perfect candidate for such a surgery: history of decaying spine, long series of milder procedures tried and unsuccessful, pain management impossible despite major current pain, movement severely limited. The first time I saw the surgeon he told me I needed this even if the kyphoplasty went well. I tick off every box. The office has no idea why I would be denied but also no idea of why Excellus is ghosting them.
Having lost my place today also means that the next available slot is a month away - if they get a quick approval. If they need to fight with the bureaucracy, who knows when that will be resolved.
I don’t know how to end this. Too many emotions fighting inside my head to express any one. Honest, officer, I had the walk sign and didn’t see the bus coming. What bus, you ask? The invisible bus that wasn’t there.