Ships & Shoes & Sealing Wax...

I thought it was a good time to do some updates. First, Twilight, our feral kitty. He comes down the walk to greet us now from any of his hidey-holes, none of which are the shelter we set up for him. He meows and looks meaningfully deep into his bowl when he feels it's getting low. Twilight will purr like a chainsaw when we feed and/or water him, and allows us to pet him when he's eating, although he still isn't big on his head being touched. Of course, I scrub up like crazy afterward, knowing that any cat dander near my nose or eyes is murder, but I pet him anyway.

Next, the surgery is off. The doctor really wanted to do it at his facility, because the hospital isn't nearly as up-to-date, and he cannot see as well with their equipment to do the procedure on the shoulder. BUT, my mega-crappy insurance (there are many joys to being self-employed; this is not one of them) only covers the hospital, and that with such an appallingly high deductible that I was really sweating it. So the doc asked us to come back in, free of charge (as the DH puts it, free is in the budget) to talk.

Meanwhile, I did some research on frozen shoulders. Turns out that first of all, as a diabetic, I am more prone to the condition. Nothing new, if there's anything out there, we'll get it worse or be more susceptible. Just gotta love those genetics. Anyway, they aren't sure WHY that is the case, possibly something autoimmune-related. Second, they almost always clear up on their own. But that can take up to two years. Now, see, this shoulder is the DH's favorite sleeping place, and I haven't been able to raise my arm up for him to do that, so I do not intend to wait two years. Third, according to the American Academy of Osteopathic Surgeons website, manipulation under anesthesia is a last resort after physical therapy. I hadn't had any.

Armed with this info, I went to the meeting with the doctor. Understand, this man and his family are clients, so I knew I had to be careful with how I approached this. I hate confrontations. Not out of fear, but because I know me. If I feel defensive, I attack, and I do it very very well. Not good with a client whose wife is a serious prima donna. *sigh* I decided to see first what he had to say, and have my oh-so-tactful DH take the lead if need be.

First thing that the doc said was that he had no idea of the restrictions of our insurance, explaining the difficulty of the hospital. Since the actual surgical procedure for the calcium deposit can literally wait years, we were only doing it to kill two birds while I had to be under already. So he proposed we just do the manipulation. At this point I said that even that might not be necessary. Doing some exercises I found online, I had already improved the front range of motion of my arm considerably, and the back, which is much more painful, somewhat. I said that perhaps I had not been clear, but that although PT is supposed to be the first line of defense, I hadn't had any.

Now, mind you, I'd been perfectly clear on that. Both on forms, during the intake, and to him. But it allowed him to save face, and me to feel crafty. LOL So he said, oh, I must have missed that, and in that case we should definitely try PT first. I think he was thrilled to have the lady with the crap insurance heading elsewhere, but I do go back to let him see my progress in a couple weeks.

Meanwhile, I started PT yesterday. Yes, it hurts, plenty, but I keep floating $$$$ in front of my eyes to remind me how badly paying the medical bills would hurt! He'll see me once a week while DH and I work the shoulder on our own. Thank God for my darling husband's help. When the pain is truly unbearable, him rubbing it lets me relax my muscles, which I cannot do if I'm the one rubbing it. Good ol' Lamaze training really helps there.

BTW today is the 16th anniversary of the first day I met my DH. The time has gone by terrifyingly quickly. The first thing he did was hug me, and he still gives the best hugs. Only Camo's little bitty arms come close. :-)

Finally, I have my pearl back in my hot little hands. Twinkie's idea of shipping it safely meant to have it in its poly bag, in the little square cardboard box in which I originally sent it, in a lightly padded envelope with about six bits of Styrofoam peanuts. What a twit she is! When I sent it, it was well-wrapped in sheets of bubble wrap. But it arrived safely, it is definitely my pearl, so all's well that ends. Period. I'm so glad to be out from under Flaky Twinkie!

Now that you're caught up (yawning behind a ladylike hand), you may return to your own humdrum existence.