- Username: GreenEyedGirl24
- Location: San Francisco, CA, USA
- Member Since: 4/13/2008
- BMI: 50.4
- Hoping to have surgery
- Surgery Type: RNY
- Surgeon: Prithvi Legha, M.D.
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Category: Health 1 Person in progress, 0 People achieved this |
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After years of believing that WLS was the devil, I've finally pulled my head out of denial and have started on the slow-boat to Realityville.
It's Official 7 days ago
 DENIED!
First, I want to thank you ALL for your well wishes. This is one of the best websites and support sources I've ever known. From the bottom of my heart...thank you.
Now, on to business...After the initial denial from my insurance, I called and spoke to my case worker and she started the appeal process. On Monday I got the thick envelope in the mail.
It was a flashback to high school when I was applying for colleges. If I got a thick envelope from the school it usually meant I was accepted. I remember my boogie dance from the mailbox to the house each time I got the mail and I had a thick envelope. I would lock myself in my room and sit Indian-style on my bed and hold the envelope to my chest and say a small prayer before I opened it.
Monday was no different. I was the same hopeful, naive girl. I pulled the think envelope from my mailbox on my way to run errands. I stared at it for a few moments. I stuffed it in my purse with the other letters and such and scurried to my car. I sat with the key in the ignition in the darkened garage and just held it to my chest while I said a prayer.
Actually, it was more like a one-sided barter with God. "God, if you let this happen for me I promise to be a better person. I won't make fun of my cats for being stupid anymore and I will refrain from pointing out character flaws of politicians for at least one week. Also, I'll stop flipping off jerks in traffic." I'm kidding about the politicians, but I was certain God felt the need to strike this deal with me.
I slowly ripped open the envelope. Were my hands shaking? Did I see that right? Perhaps they were. I didn't care. I unfolded the thick set of papers to find:
"Dear GreenEyedGirl,
After further review of all the documentation and many phone calls from your surgeon's office, we agree that you are super fat. No, really. We know. Please stop sending us empty Twinkie wrappers. We get the point.
Sadly, we don't like you and think you suck. We know that you meet 19 out of the 20 criterion we arbitrarily set to approve someone for surgery. We also know you have documentation from your doctor on your weight history, your monthly (sometimes weekly) weigh ins with him as well as all the documentation from both visits from your nutritionist and the diet she put you on.
Though we confirmed with you on the phone TWICE over the last six months that this would suffice, we are taking it back. We were just messin' with you, GreenEyedGirl. We've decided that it's not enough. Too bad, so sad.
SO! If you want for us to reconsider paying for what four doctors have told you is a life-saving procedure for you, you have to undergo a six-month doctor supervised diet.
Please be advised that we will somehow change our criteria again in the next six months without telling you.
Love,
Great West Healthcare
PS. We hate you and think your new hairstyle looks stupid."
What's a fat girl supposed to do? Cry? Sorry, I don't do that. Go into a flying rage and start throwing various items in my house and smashing them so I will only have to replace them later? I thought about it, but no.
This fat girl is going to an HMR orientation on 9/11. You all know how I lovelovelovelovelove me some liquid dieting. This should go well.
All of that said, I am not upset. I truly believe I have a path outlined for me. And though I know HE knows how hard it will be for me to do, I've decided to stop trying to micromanage God. I'm pretty sure He doesn't like that.
Thanks again for your support. I'll keep you updated on how things go with the orientation. For now, I'm off to have some oral surgery. Wish me luck!
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Moof. :( on August 20, 2008 8:40 pm
I was planning on waiting until next week to post, but I cannot help it. I'm sad.
The surgery coordinator called me on Monday and advised that the insurance is saying I haven't met their requirements for surgery.
Ahem. Please note that I have repeatedly told both my PCP and surgeon what my insurance requirements were and those both advised that it was no problem. Apparently my PCP weighing me in monthly and documenting how fat I am and how we discussed how fat I am together does not meet their requirements.
::sigh:: I guess I cannot say that I am surprised. In fact, I'm not at all. I spoke to my "case worker" at Great West and asked that they waive this requirement seeing that I have FIVE, yes, FIVE co-morbidities. They are going to review and let me know next week.
In the interim, I am planning on having to have a real 6 month doctor supervised diet, not just my PCP documenting that I have my own zip code and stuff like "Holy crap, I didn't know they made clothes that big" in my chart. Sadly, I am using this as an excuse to talk myself out of surgery.
So that's where we are right now. I haven't shared this much with people, but thought you might understand.
Wish me luck.
Looks like I'll need it.
::pout::
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Butterflies on July 25, 2008 8:50 pm
It was a sad day for me today. I attended the funeral of one of my coworkers and friends.
He used to be my boss. He pushed me to apply for a promotion when I had no desire to do so in any way, shape or form. He was one of those guys that could make anyone laugh about anything. He literally made me pee in my pants one time. At work. On a fabric upholstered chair. Not cool.
He was 41 years old and was diagnosed a year and a half ago with skin cancer. He fought and we thought he won. A year ago, it was back with a vengeance. It morphed into bone cancer and eventually spread to all his organs, including his eyes. He died last Saturday.
We are all so glad he's out of pain and can be a peace again. Today we tried to celebrate his life, but few of us could get past how much we will suffer without him in our lives. Selfish, I know.
At the memorial, they asked me to recite the butterfly poem. When my grandmother passed, we got so many cards of sympathy, but they all fell short of their intention. Except one. It had beautiful watercolored butterflies on the front and a beautiful poem written by some anonymous genius. Every time I get to missing her, I think of the poem and somehow it makes me feel a little better.
Pat, this is for you:
The Butterfly
A butterfly lights beside us like a sunbeam
For a brief moment, it's beauty and glory belong to our world.
But then it flies on again.
And while we are so sad to see it go,
We are so lucky to have seen it at all.
-Anonymous
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Am I Pregnant? on July 21, 2008 9:56 pm
NO, YOU DONKEY! I am not pregnant... I'm just fat!
So after a crummy day at work (boss wants to know if I can work from home while I'm out for two weeks to have surgery, assistant whose last day was Friday told me the MAJOR project she's been working on for three weeks was done AND IT WASN'T!!), my DH decided to take me down to Fisherman's Wharf for a nice seafood dinner.
Being idiots, we decided to take the Muni down to the Ferry Building and then grab the F line to Pier 39. We had gotten off at the Embarcadero station and were walking to Ferry Building. It was a pleasant evening; a bit on the cool side, but the sun was out and we were on the water, which is one of my favorite places to be.
We were crossing The Embarcadero and this extremely inebriated man came up toward me. One could literally smell him coming. I also think he was on meth or something, as his walk was more twitchy and scratchy than sway-ey and dizzy. I switched my purse to my other arm and braced myself for his incoherent litany and obligatory request for money. He mumbled something, laughed and then said, "Hey, are you pregnant?"
OK. Yes, I have a prominent stomach. One could even say my stomach simply grew arms, legs and a head. But COME ON!! Even a drunken, high, jobless imbecile can see that I am just fat! So the only logical conclusion is that he was just being mean. GUESS WHAT? DON'T BE MEAN TO SOMEONE FROM WHOM YOU WANT FREE MONEY!
At that moment, my eyes must have started smoking and enraged foam must have started oozing out of my mouth, because he said, "Sorry, sorry" and started to say something else. My husband saw my rage as well and came over, showed his meaty paw and said, "Yeah, wanna feel it kick?", which instantly made Drunk Imbecile back away.
I am rarely, if ever, speechless and for some reason this stumped me.
In fact, I'm still stumped. I am so fat that someone who wants something from me is so distracted by said fat that they just have to insult me. Hmmph. In fact, I've noticed this happens a lot. Time and time again, when I go by a beggar, they'll say, "Hey big girl!" to get my attention.
I have no point to this aside from ranting, but I do have a question that I'm sure has been posted before.
In your opinion, why is it socially acceptable to belittle overweight people?
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I may, ahem, have been a tad bit wrong on July 20, 2008 6:42 pm
With the sun flirting with the eastern horizon and the moon winking in the west, I got in my car and headed home. This is one of my favorite things; being out when everyone else is asleep and when the night is beginning to go to bed.
I was awoken at 5:15 am yesterday morning 50 minutes from home in a strange bed. After I was untied and a bit more coherent, I thanked God that the night was over. It's not quite as mysterious as it sounds. It was the second half of my sleep study.
As I'm sure you remember (and chant it with me, my friends!), I DO NOT HAVE SLEEP APNEA! I don't care what the doctors and the reports say! And, frankly, I don't know why it matters so much to me. If you've been following along, you'll know that I take issue with the process and the insistence that I have sleep apnea simply because I am overweight. I have no other symptoms.
I left my surgeon's office on Thursday with instructions to call to get a CPAP machine and to start using it. Fine. I was planning to call on Friday. I got up a bit after five on Friday morning, anxious for work I guess. After showering, however, my stomach was voicing its concerns. I was extremely nauseous and suffering the ill effects. I could barely sit still for five minutes without a reprisal. I reluctantly dialed my boss to call off for the day. I was trying to recover on the couch when the phone rang around 10 AM. It was the coordinator for the Sleep Center. OK, cool...one less call to make. She was telling me that she was calling to schedule my sleep study. I advised her that I had already had a sleep study. She said noooo, I had the diagnostic study done but because I had rolled over, they were unable to fit me for the mask.
::seeeeeth:: I will skip the ungracious indignance that I showed (along with my arse) to the poor lady. I scheduled the study for that night, praying that I would not throw up all over the CPAP machine. ::sigh::
I was extremely unhappy about the whole event. I got to the center at 8PM, marvelling that I hadn't had to pull over on the drive down. I had the same sweet lady that I had the first time. She remembered me and was very sweet, though I cannot say that I returned the favor. She put the first mask on me; the kind that fits entirely over your nose. The nurse put it on the lowest pressure. Apparently I am a bit claustrophobic. Between that and the horrible pressure in my ears and throat I *kind* of freaked out a little. ::cough cough::
After I stopped crying and finagled a modicum of composure, the nurse fitted me with the other mask, which even on the same pressure as the previous one was something I could deal with. She put more monitering wires on me than the time before and I literally felt like I was tied up. Despite all this, I figure I finally got to sleep around 11. I woke up at some point in the night in major pain from my sleeping on my back. After laying there for who knows how long, I called the nurse so she could unhook me to go to the bathroom. After she hooked me back up, I asked if I could sleep on my side. She said that I had sleep long enough on my back, so I could try my side. I got situated and finally fell back asleep. I woke myself up from time to time with the realization that I was breathing through my mouth. When I did so, the CPAP would act up and make a snorking sound or something and woke me up.
I was quite relieved when the nurse woke me up. I asked what time it was and she told me it was 5:15. She did the calibration test again and came back in to unhook me. I took a quick shower to de-goo myself the best I could. As I walked out the front door of the center, there was dew covering my car. The sun wasn't quite up yet, but I could see it blooming in the east. I got in my car and started it up, saying a quick prayer. Why? I'm not sure. But I did.
I drove through McDonald's to get an iced coffee (don't make fun-I prefer it to Starbucks) and drove along the empty streets. To be an area so populated and be the only one out in an amazing thing. The quiet is so peaceful. Things seem cleaner and the beautiful painted sky seems to be have painted just for me. As mentioned, it is one of my favorite things.
As I got closer to home, I was amazed at how quickly the coffee was kicking in. I decided to go to Trader Joe's to get groceries for the week. I got there around 6:15, but they did not open until 9 (Seriously??). I turned around and drove down to Mollie Stone's. Got there around 6:45 and they didn't open until 7. I played games on my cell phone until they opened.
After shopping, I got home and put everything away. I emptied the dishwasher, did the dishes that were in the sink, ran the dishwasher again (yes, I wash my dishes before I put them in the dishwasher. If you have a problem with this, please stand in line with my husband), cleaned the kitchen, cleaned the bathroom, started laundry, scooped the litter box, took out all the trash, restocked my weekly pill container and started breakfast. What? I had just had a very bad night of sleep, coming off two previous bad nights of sleep. Yet, I had more energy than I had experienced in I don't know how long. I was beginning to wonder if there was cocaine in that McDonald's coffee.
After breakfast, DH and I decided to go down the Embarcadero and go to the Farmer's Market at the Ferry Building. We piddled around and shopped and sat on the pier. We had lunch and got steaks for dinner at the fab meat market. We got home around 4.
It was at this point that I realized I was still full of energy. Surely this isn't from the coffee? Wait a minute. Maybe...maybe this is from the CPAP machine? ::GASP!:: But, but I don't have Sleep Apnea! No, really, I don't! Do I? I'm still unconvinced, but the amazing amount of energy that I had yesterday leaves me certain that I will benefit from the CPAP machine after all.
Today, however, I am sore. And tired. Extremely tired. We went to bed around 9:30 last night and slept until 9 this morning. I also took a 2 hour nap this afternoon! That is extremely unusual for me. And...I'm still tired.
I have to wait for the dr. at the sleep center to compile the information for my study and get me a prescription for the machine. It is with deep regret, my friends, to report that I cannot wait. ::shrug::
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Same same same. I was fat. I am fat. I will always be fat unless I do something drastic. Sound familiar?
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