A few weeks after I got out of the hospital, I finally ventured and read the older Carepage entries, that Wendy had posted while I was asleep. This was very difficult for me and I found myself crying after the first entry. In many ways it is good, though, it reminds of what I went through, of what the people around me went through, of all the support people gave when I couldn't even respond. Through time, though, I expected that reading these would not affect me quite so strongly. This has not been the case, however. Even now, almost 10 months since this saga began, 8 months since my transplant, reading the entries and reading what people wrote, thinking about what everyone went through, makes me cry. I really need to pick and chose when I decided to do this.
Friday, May 22, 2009
Friday, May 15, 2009
Medical Cost
For anyone out there who doesn't believe in the value of health insurance, I offer this cautionary tale. Sometime in November of 2008, I began to receive bills for the 2 1/2 months of surgery and care that I had received following my heart attack. While I was in the hospital I had noticed, particularly when the nurses checked my blood sugar, that the nurses would use a hand bar code scanner on the items that the were using on me. First they would enter some code, then they would scan the bar code. After I realized that this was for billings purposes, which meant, every surgery, every medicine, every bandage, every yankauer (which they replaced every time I drop my suction tube on the ground), everything was being billed. Even then, still just concentrating on getting better, my mind spun with the cost, the bill that was growing for. I was terrified on this bill. Not long after, I got out the hospital, I got the bill for my first night, which was at a different hospital (Huntington in Pasadena vs USC Memorial). That bill totaled just over $240k - for one night! Of course this night included major surgery and batteries of tests and scans. Sometime in November I got what I thought was the first bill from my longer stay. I nearly collapsed when I read it - it read "Estimated Amount You Owe - $4.2 million" THAT"s RIGHT
If my entire family put every dollar earned toward that bill for the rest of my life, we wouldn't even come close to paying such a bill. But it wasn't really a bill, more of an FYI. Here is where the insurance comes in. That number is in essence a fake number that the hospital comes up with because they know you have insurance, which apparently I have good insurance. This number is the number the hospital produce before the cost is negotiated with the insurance company. Once the hospital and insurance agree on a real bill (which is much less than the retail cost), THEN your insurance coverage is applied to the bill - you know (insurance pay 70% of total bill, something like that), and then you get an actual bill. So, months went by and no real bill arrived. Sometime in February I began to receive actual bills for biopsies and clinic appointments and such (there were many because I was sick in January) that had occurred in 2009. What about my 2008 bills? Finally I mustered the courage to call my insurance company (always a dicey proposition) and inquired about two things. First I wanted to know how much lifetime courage remained on my policy. Once I found out that, I asked the representative about the $4.2 million dollar bill. After some back and with the representative to access the correct bill, he simply said "It's been taken care of". WHAT?!?!? Ultimately, the bill had been negotiated down to $400k+, however, I had already reach my out-of-pocket maximum for 2008, which meant insurance was covering everything at that point. That right, my bill for 2 1/2 month hospital stay, including 2 surgeries, x-rays everyday, a pharmacy full of medication, all of it, ended up being
4.2 MILLION DOLLARS
If my entire family put every dollar earned toward that bill for the rest of my life, we wouldn't even come close to paying such a bill. But it wasn't really a bill, more of an FYI. Here is where the insurance comes in. That number is in essence a fake number that the hospital comes up with because they know you have insurance, which apparently I have good insurance. This number is the number the hospital produce before the cost is negotiated with the insurance company. Once the hospital and insurance agree on a real bill (which is much less than the retail cost), THEN your insurance coverage is applied to the bill - you know (insurance pay 70% of total bill, something like that), and then you get an actual bill. So, months went by and no real bill arrived. Sometime in February I began to receive actual bills for biopsies and clinic appointments and such (there were many because I was sick in January) that had occurred in 2009. What about my 2008 bills? Finally I mustered the courage to call my insurance company (always a dicey proposition) and inquired about two things. First I wanted to know how much lifetime courage remained on my policy. Once I found out that, I asked the representative about the $4.2 million dollar bill. After some back and with the representative to access the correct bill, he simply said "It's been taken care of". WHAT?!?!? Ultimately, the bill had been negotiated down to $400k+, however, I had already reach my out-of-pocket maximum for 2008, which meant insurance was covering everything at that point. That right, my bill for 2 1/2 month hospital stay, including 2 surgeries, x-rays everyday, a pharmacy full of medication, all of it, ended up being
$0
Now tell me insurance isn't worth it. Now I understand, that insurance is expensive, and I am blessed in this capacity, however, if you have the means, please get it, you never know what could happen. You could wake up one day needing a heart transplant.
Now tell me insurance isn't worth it. Now I understand, that insurance is expensive, and I am blessed in this capacity, however, if you have the means, please get it, you never know what could happen. You could wake up one day needing a heart transplant.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Back to the Desert
This past weekend, I drove out to the Mojave Desert to meet my graduate school adviser to work some unfinished business. The drive out was fine, meeting him and his current crop of students went well. I realized soon after arriving, though that it may have been a mistake. A painful nervous knot formed in my stomach. It's slowly grew till almost my whole body was quietly shaking. Fear. It was fear overtaking me, the way detergent spreads oil in water. At first I didn't know why, but I soon realized, remembered why I was feeling like this. When I was...gone...when I was in a coma, sadly, it was not blissful nothingness, in fact to my memory, not a single moment of that long 6 weeks was nothingness, instead is was an unending stream of nightmares. The most horrible, realistic nightmare you could imagine. One the most prominent, possibly the first nightmares, I can remember having took place in the Desert, the Mojave Desert, and to make matters worse, my adviser was there, in my nightmare (not in any sort of sinister manner, he was just there). Lying there in the back of my truck, I couldn't sleep, I couldn't escape. I wanted to cry, but I couldn't. I know, I knew that they were just nightmares, that they hadn't really happened, but even when I had awaken from my coma, it took me several days to be convinced that they had just been nightmares. Still, here they are, a part of me, for the rest of my life, I think, just like my scars. I went home the next afternoon, after the work was done, but I couldn't bear the thought of another night out there.
So I made it back to Pasadena late afternoon, prepared for a restful evening of hanging out with Cady. Instead, though, my friend Nick invited me to his house for BBQ. At first I was going to refuse, but I remembered that his parents were in town. Without his parents help, I would not have been able to create Wendy's engagement with nearly the success that I had. So I wanted to see them. I packed up Cady into the car (she likes to play with Nick's dog Hank), and headed over the valley. Everything, was fine until just before dinner.
Minutes before the food was ready, I began to experience pain, in my chest, and in my left arm. For those of you not paying attention, I was at Nick and Nora's for a BBQ the night that I had my heart attack. My instinct was that it wasn't a big deal, yet that was exactly what I thought at first on July 30th. The pain never got too terrible, just annoying, but I decided to excuse myself from dinner, head home, and check by blood pressure (the first check for problems). On the drive home, I resolved to call my Dr. , even though it was 10pm on a Saturday night. I knew he would be annoyed, but I also knew that he would be ANGRY if I didn't call. So when I got home, I called him (the Cardiothoracic Surgery Dept has a night answering service). He assured me that the pain wasn't my heart (it's disconnected from the nervous system, I CAN'T feel heart related pain) and that is was likely muscular. I'd overdone it with all the cross-country hiking earlier in the day and my body wasn't so happy with me.
Honestly, this wasn't as bad as the previous night, but it was just too much for me. But, just as the night before, I realized that that night will always be with me, like my scars, as a reminder, a painful reminder, of what I went through.
So I made it back to Pasadena late afternoon, prepared for a restful evening of hanging out with Cady. Instead, though, my friend Nick invited me to his house for BBQ. At first I was going to refuse, but I remembered that his parents were in town. Without his parents help, I would not have been able to create Wendy's engagement with nearly the success that I had. So I wanted to see them. I packed up Cady into the car (she likes to play with Nick's dog Hank), and headed over the valley. Everything, was fine until just before dinner.
Minutes before the food was ready, I began to experience pain, in my chest, and in my left arm. For those of you not paying attention, I was at Nick and Nora's for a BBQ the night that I had my heart attack. My instinct was that it wasn't a big deal, yet that was exactly what I thought at first on July 30th. The pain never got too terrible, just annoying, but I decided to excuse myself from dinner, head home, and check by blood pressure (the first check for problems). On the drive home, I resolved to call my Dr. , even though it was 10pm on a Saturday night. I knew he would be annoyed, but I also knew that he would be ANGRY if I didn't call. So when I got home, I called him (the Cardiothoracic Surgery Dept has a night answering service). He assured me that the pain wasn't my heart (it's disconnected from the nervous system, I CAN'T feel heart related pain) and that is was likely muscular. I'd overdone it with all the cross-country hiking earlier in the day and my body wasn't so happy with me.
Honestly, this wasn't as bad as the previous night, but it was just too much for me. But, just as the night before, I realized that that night will always be with me, like my scars, as a reminder, a painful reminder, of what I went through.
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Repeating Sadness
Not long after I posted the last entry, a month after I started, I realized that I repeated myself. Yes, I did have three, yes three, strokes, so maybe my brain is a little addles, but mostly I think I'm a moron. That's OK, I'm pretty sure it will take me a month to finish this entry and I'll probably repeat myself again. Seriously, though, with the about of crap that is rattling around in my head, I'm sure I should have something a little bit more original to say.
I'm now into my 7 months since all this happened. I still have many people asking me many questions. How am I doing? What is it like? Endless questions about the things that happened while I was in the hospital. None of this bothers me. I don't mind answering questions at all. There are few things that I'm unwilling to talk about, and if someone asks me about those, then I politely say "I can't talk about that", and leave it.
What I can say is this. At times, since this all started, I've been overcome by overwhelming sadness. Now yes, of course this was true while I was in the hospital. Anyone would be sad, waking up from coma, to find their life shattered. But here I am 7 months later, and if anything my life is better than it has been in a long time. I'm engaged. My relationships with all of my friends and family are deeper than I ever thought myself capable of. My job is going well. I'm back rock climbing, and I'm back mountain biking. I'm luckier than person deserves to be. I nearly died, fighting demons you can't even imagine, and yet to this day I'm at times overwhelmed with sadness. There are many things that can cause this, some that I don't understand.But the thing that truly makes me sad, though, is thinking or hearing about what my friends and family went through while I was asleep. I can't even imagine. All I can say to those people is "I'm sorry" and I really am. I'm sorry.
I'm now into my 7 months since all this happened. I still have many people asking me many questions. How am I doing? What is it like? Endless questions about the things that happened while I was in the hospital. None of this bothers me. I don't mind answering questions at all. There are few things that I'm unwilling to talk about, and if someone asks me about those, then I politely say "I can't talk about that", and leave it.
What I can say is this. At times, since this all started, I've been overcome by overwhelming sadness. Now yes, of course this was true while I was in the hospital. Anyone would be sad, waking up from coma, to find their life shattered. But here I am 7 months later, and if anything my life is better than it has been in a long time. I'm engaged. My relationships with all of my friends and family are deeper than I ever thought myself capable of. My job is going well. I'm back rock climbing, and I'm back mountain biking. I'm luckier than person deserves to be. I nearly died, fighting demons you can't even imagine, and yet to this day I'm at times overwhelmed with sadness. There are many things that can cause this, some that I don't understand.But the thing that truly makes me sad, though, is thinking or hearing about what my friends and family went through while I was asleep. I can't even imagine. All I can say to those people is "I'm sorry" and I really am. I'm sorry.
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