Beating head on wall. . . over. . . and over. . . and over . . .

Today's menu: breakfast—whole wheat pancakes (made with whole wheat, oat meal and flax seed flour), bowl of mixed fruit and bacon (umm, that would be bacon, and bowl of mixed fruit. They weren't mixed together. At least not in the bowl. Later, in the tummy, yes.). Lunch—tomato, avocado, provolone and roast beef sandwich on toasted sprouted bread, sliced tomatoes, watermelon. Dinner: green poblano rice with seafood sausage, corn on the cob. In between: v-8-style juice fresh from the juicer—3 tomatoes, cucumber, 1/2 jalapeno, 1/2 lemon, stalk or two of celery, small bunch spinach and a few big leaves of Swiss chard. Oh, yeah, and ice cream. No, not in the juice. Later, by itself.

So, Bob gets a letter in the mail from his insurance company tonight, certifying his hospital stay on August 24 at . . . Maple Grove Hospital. wwwwhhhaaa?????? At first we thought it might just be a typo, but after thinking about it a few minutes, I called the U (it was after-hours), asked if they had a Bob Andrzejek scheduled for admission tomorrow . . . after being bounced around to a few people and waiting on hold for several minutes, I was finally told that no, there's no record of his admission for tomorrow. They do have him scheduled for surgery on Friday, but nope, no hospital stay prior to that . . .

{{{{bang head against wall, repeatedly . . .}}}} After hearing that, Bob, understandably, becomes agitated, anxious. What if they can't get me in tomorrow? What if they don't have cardiology's orders? What if I have to take a Plavix because they can't get me on the IV blood thinner, and it screws up the surgery? What if they can't get me in to get me on the IV blood thinner? Totally legit fears, for sure. I grab my cellphone and leave a message with the cardiologist's nurse, explaining the issue, and to please get back to me asap tomorrow a.m. . . . then, fire off an e-mail to his primary doc, to give him a heads-up about the situation . . . why do I get so worked up about these kind of things now? Bob asks, pacing around the kitchen. This kind of stuff used to never bother me . . .

"Because maybe you have a helluva lot to be worked up about these past few months?" I offer. I

dunno, just a thought . . . don't worry. It'll be okay. If we have to hang out in the hallway with an IV drip in you for a few hours till they find a room for you, that's okay. It's supposed to be nice out. We can go outside and take a nap under a tree somewhere on campus . . ." I told him I have "the system" figured out by now (ummm, yeah, whatever . . .), that I have countless "contacts" at the U (helps to have a "crazy" reputation, after all), and things will be okay. We'll make sure of it.

Am I surprised about this? No. Just par for the course, same ol' same ol', dealing with a big, out-of-control entity such as the U. Maybe I shouldn't blame them, maybe it was an insurance company coding error, but still. We're the ones who have to deal with the mess. . . I'm just grateful Bob happened to open the letter from his insurance company instead of setting it aside. Can't imagine the mess that would have been, had we arrived at the U, to be told they have no record of Bob being admitted at that time. . . .

An hour or so later, Bob's primary doc e-mails me back. "Sorry this had to happen, but don't worry. I will get it straightened out first thing in the morning." I relay the message to Bob. Okay, he says, but I still don't feel good about this. What if the doctors don't have the right information? What if they didn't get the cardiology notes about what's going on? What if . . .

At 12:23 a.m. last night, I get an e-mail from Doc B, Bob's cardiologist. Anything I can do to help, let me know. He's supposedly on vacation. Evidently, Bob's primary doctor forwarded my message to him. I wrote back quickly, asked him to please do whatever it takes to make sure Bob gets admitted in the morning, and please reassure us that everyone who's supposed to be "in charge" knows what the hell is going on . . .

In the grand scheme of things of the shit Bob's been dragged through the past ten months and counting, I can completely understand his anxiety, the worries, the fears that things aren't starting out right, he's earned it, and then some . . . I should know by now that nothing plays by the rules in this big ugly game, nothing, and one can never, ever assume things are going to go without a hitch . . .just once, though, it'd be kinda nice if it did . . .

Anyhow, I'm confident that between Bob's primary doc and his cardiologist, this will all get straightened out, and we'll be at Hotel U as scheduled. Anyone and everyone is welcome to visit, at least Tuesday and Wednesday, anything to keep Bob occupied, keep his spirits up and fighting . . .

xxooxxo! to all!