When I left AHOA (my old job) my office mate told me that I would survive. That I wouldn’t sink. That, even if something gave me a bump in the road, that I’d drive over it. Or if the ship I was sailing on sank, I’d float. I keep trying to reach into that memory and channel the good vibes that were sent to me in that conversation. Yet, I just don’t feel like I’m able to right now.
I’m dealing with gallbladder sludge. As my previous post mentioned, I may have to have it taken out. However, I must have an endoscopy first. Rightfully, my doctor has decided that just going in and cutting out my gallbladder may not be the best decision if, in fact, there is something else that is wrong. She’s not a fan of unnecessary surgery – so instead she’s going to knock me out, stick a camera down my throat, and look at the inside of my throat, stomach, and intestine.
The bigger problem is that I just don’t have the money for this, and when I decided to take this year off, I wasn’t expecting anything like this to happen. And so here I am, in the very predicament that my patients sat in with my for almost six years, and I’m wondering what the hell I’m going to do. I’ve thought about pretending that I’m magically cured! Like, I went to someone, they smacked me palm up on the forehead, and I fell over completely healed. Then I remembered that medicine doesn’t work like that. More importantly, that’s how you end up unintentionally killing yourself. By waiting.
Waiting. That’s the other shitty part about this. I have to wait until nearly the end of September to have this happen. Which also means, I have yet another backdated premium from AHOA to pay since I’ve figured out that it’s actually flippin’ cheaper to pay for my COBRA policy than it is for my deductible with my self-insured plan of havoc. So if I do need surgery, then I’ll likely only be able to have it in October.
So where does this leave me? Absolutely terrified. I could go home – to Snellville. My parents opened their arms, and their house, to all residing people of my apartment — they aren’t really happy about the cats, but they’d have to come. That means that I’d be hauling my ass, every day, for almost three hours worth of driving. Mentally, that makes me exhausted even thinking about it –
I’m just…I’m not sure what I am. I am a blob of nothingness right now. I’ve slipped into a zombie like state of nothingness. I’ve hardly heard a word anyone has said to me pretty much all day. I’ve been told that I’m worrying too much about this, but at the same time, I don’t know what’s not to worry about. The way I look at it is:
Out $2500 I don’t have – find out that the endoscopy revealed inflammation, that I don’t need surgery, and that I have acid-reflux. Best case scenario.
Out $2500 I don’t have – find out that my endoscopy found “something else” that “has to be biopsied” and turns out I have something even worse. Have to have all kinds of surgeries. Worse case scenario.
Out $2500 I don’t have – find out that I just need my gallbladder out after all.
None of these things above me mention are good things and all of them have potential to cripple me like a man taking a bat to the knee-cap.
Sorry to be debbie-downer lately. It’s just absolutely shitty. And I’m really wondering when I’m going to catch a break.