The telephone rang this morning with good news: my body is going to be cut open.
A date for my surgery has been set, the last day of March, and thus concludes a very frustrating and very infuriating process of dealing with doctors and hospitals and insurance companies. Worst of all, insurance companies.
I'll be cut open, my collarbone will be pieced back together, and I'll be stitched back up. Then I'll be one-armed again for a month or so, and then, if all goes according to plan, I'll be back to my old self.
This is not a fate I'd wish on anyone. Not the broken collarbone. That's not too bad. It's the dealing with insurance companies, or, insurance company clerks, that I wouldn't wish on anyone. They make the Forest Service look efficient, but that's another story.
For now, all I'll say is that all the proper forms are filed, all the proper forms have been faxed to the correct number, all the proper phone calls have been made, and everyone involved in this procedure has removed their head from their, well, you understand.
The bad news is the surgery wil take place the day before spring planting is to begin. I'm yet to figure out a way around that. Put some stuff in early, and get some help putting in everything else. I'll need to find away to take care of the zillion other things that need to get taken care of around here, but find a way, I will, I'm sure.
I know need to find something to do with my morning for the rest of the month. I'll miss calling the insurance company every morning and asking them if they've done what they said they were going to do, but, somehow, I feel that I'll be able to find a more useful way to spend my time.