September 2011

Sept 8, 2011 thru…
I knew that Dr. P’s prescription from back in August for physical therapy on my elbow would expire Sept 13th. I’ve wanted to go there to find out how much the Medicare co-pay was per visit, but I knew it’d be useless because even if it was only $5 each, I couldn’t afford it… so I kept putting it off.

The nurse practitioner at WorkHealth signed off on my “Maximum Medically Improved” papers two weeks ago. I filled out a C84 for more temporary total checks, but figured GB would use the MMI as an excuse to cut off my financial help, and as long as I didn’t know for sure, I’d have to sweat it out until last Friday as to whether I’d get a check or not. I e-mailed Lawyer K about the situation but didn’t hear back from him for a few days. When I did, he said that as insurance, I should have Dr. Mind send a C84 from her office. But she’s away for two weeks-not enough time to make sure I’d get the check on the 9th. I even considered calling Jen at GB, but figured I’d get the usual runaround from them and not get an answer until it was too late. I fell back into the “what’s the use” mode and then thought of calling her boss and my friend Ken to see if he could help me in her absence. I didn’t want to call his cell unless I had to, so I called… and called… and called and finally got through to a temp girl at Dr. Mind’s office, who told me he was gone for a week unexpectantly and after explaining the situation, she didn’t know who I should contact. She transferred me to someone and I got their voicemail. I gave up rather than leave a message.

The check came on Friday after all the worry, and I was completely out of groceries and didn’t have enough for the car payment and the phone bill at the same time, so I chose the car and opted for the late fee from AT&T until I got caught up… if I got caught up. My finances are so tight that I haven’t done my laundry in four months because I can’t save back the 12 quarters it’d take to do it… much less buy laundry detergent. That’s when it dawned on me that during the transition to all Disability; I’d have no money coming in. I knew I’d be alright with the rent and if I explained to the other bills, I hoped they’d understand, but for some reason it didn’t dawn on me that with no money I’d have no food or gas to go get food from a food bank. Somehow before the transition happens, I’ve got to save back enough to feed myself until more money comes in. Now I’m really depressed.

The last time I humiliated myself and begged Grant Hospital for help, I went though a long drawn-out process of filling out and mailing applications for financial help, and weeks later discovered that I’d gotten help with only one-ONE bill for about $34 out of the thousands I owed. In order to get them all taken care of I’d have to repeat the process for each and every bill and I didn’t have it in me for that.

It’s really bothering me that I’ve lost the ability to problem-solve for myself. I decided to make a list of goals that’d make Dr. Mind proud of me for my return to her office this Wednesday. I’d visit a food bank, stop at physical therapy and find out how much the co-pays were, and call Grant Hospital to try for the umpteenth time to get help with the doctor bills… but then I couldn’t leave the apartment for two hours. I don’t know why I didn’t want to leave or why I couldn’t pass through that door, but I couldn’t. With no food in the house, I finally forced myself to go out, and once I got out the apartment door, I couldn’t understand why it was so hard.

I stopped at physical therapy and talked to my friend an assistant administrator. She gave me a phone number of a woman at Grant’s business office who’d at least help with the elbow co-pays. They set up an appointment for me to come in for my elbow evaluation the following Tuesday (13th) at 1:15. I said I’d call her, and then went on to wal-mart. When I got home, I didn’t call-I wanted to, but “what’s the use” clouded over me. I decided to do it on Monday. Saturday night I had a really vivid nightmare that my attackers had poisoned the cheap cans of soup I’d bought. When I finally got back to sleep, I dreamt that giant bugs in black slime crawled out of the cans when I opened them.

Sunday dinner consisted of a sleeve of unsalted crackers dipped in homemade tartar sauce.

Monday brought collection agency calls-sometimes 2 an hour to the point where I was downright angry every time the phone rang and each succeeding call brought me near rage. Still I didn’t call Grant... not that I was in any condition to. I was so mad and frustrated at myself that when I looked up food bank phone numbers I gave up for no reason. Monday evening was clouded with thoughts of how I can’t file for bankruptcy again until 2014 to get out from under Grant Hospital.

It hurts when I try to focus my eyes in the morning on my computer screen and sometimes it takes ten minutes before I can read anything. I only got through half the eye operations I needed because every time I’d show up, the receptionist would hand me a bill for $120 or more that I still owed them in co-pays. It’d make me feel like some worthless beggar every time I went there. Now I’d face the same thing with Grant’s physical therapy unless I did something to overcome how useless and futureless I feel.

On Tuesday, I saw Wednesday looming every closer and was determined not to go to Dr. Mind’s empty handed. I forced myself to call the number of Grant’s business office… they told me the lady was tied up in meetings all day and couldn’t see me. I almost hung up, but fought it and left a voicemail. She called me back half an hour later between more collection agency calls. Apparently my friend at PT, called her in advance and explained my situation and asked me if I could come in around 11AM and she’d fit me in between meetings. I agreed.

I had the paperwork still in the envelope from the two-week fight to get a meager $16 a month in food stamps, so I took it with me. Her office was just off the main lobby. I told the receptionist who I was and whom I was there to see, feeling like I couldn’t breathe. This is the building where all my operations took place and where I’d died twice on the operating table. She explained that Kathy was still in a meeting and asked me to have a seat. I sat facing the windows and watched people wandering in and out of the library across the street… then realized it was almost noon. I turned back around to discover the receptionist had gone to lunch and her replacement hadn’t told Kathy I was there, and that she’d been waiting patiently for me for more than half an hour.

I almost flew into a rage and wanted to leave quickly. Kathy came out before I could and ushered me into her office with her supervisor. I told her how long I’d been there-which the visitor log confirmed and I couldn’t get her to stop apologizing, which nearly prompted me to leave. I explained my mental problems and hoped I hadn’t acted rude without realizing it, and she said I hadn’t.

It turns out that the paperwork that I’d taken without checking from Jobs and Family Services had sent back was all I needed to get all of my hospital bills from Grant wiped off the records and paid by various charities. They both promised that the process would only take 4-6 weeks and then I’d be free of all the collection agency calls. I was so relieved, I jumped up and gave her a giant hug and left Grant Hospital on top of the world. Not only that, they were going to take care of the Physical therapy co-pays in advance of my having them!!!

Then it all started to crash in on me. Those fucking feelings that whenever anything good happens-a vengeful god would come and sweep any joy in my life with his mighty hand. I actually had to talk myself into leaving the parking lot. With a lot of effort, I put the top down on the convertible, turned up the stereo and enjoyed the sunny drive back home… blissfully and thankfully without incident.

Later at Grant Physical Therapy, I filled out a ton of applications, appalled that they wouldn’t share the last 6 years worth of documents with the new therapist. I got part way through the process when a young black man named Ryan meeting my attackers description perfectly, appeared with a clipboard and informed me that I needed to pay over $1,600 in Medicare co-pays to them.

Despite therapist calls to GB to get authorization for more therapies-and them approving them, NOT ONE therapy session had been submitted nor paid by GB. It was confirmed by state computer records. When that happened everything was submitted to… and apparently paid by mistake by Medicare!!! The $1,600 was Medicare co-pays that I owed Grant hospital!!! GB had not submitted one single payment for my ankle, leg, or knee in six years, even though they kept approving more therapy over the phone.

If I’d accepted a settlement when I was declared MMI and then signed a release – apparently Grant Hospital and Medicare could come back at me for tens of thousands of dollar’s worth of physical therapy??? I went through the evaluation on my elbow having flashbacks because of Ryan and I thought of him as an omen and confirmation amongst many that nothing good will ever happen to me again without a disaster hitting me to destroy the joy I felt. She told me I only had one day on the prescription before it would’ve expired… no surprise.

I came home to find even more collection agency calls on my answering machine and went into another rage, cussing in frustration at the top of my lungs… probably scaring the cat and the neighbors. I collected myself and called my lawyer’s assistant and of course got her voicemail. She called back later and I explained it as best I could and asked her to confirm that no Work Comp therapy had been paid by GB. She said she’d call them the first thing Wednesday to confirm it and advise me.

She called back Wednesday morning to say I needed to get Dr. P to submit C9’s AGAIN for each and every PT session that wasn’t paid for. When I asked if she’d confirmed that the unpaid ones should’ve been paid by GB, she said she hadn’t asked.

I had a headache that was now so painful I could barely think. I couldn’t even organize my thoughts into notes to try in vein to explain the whole thing to Dr. Mind-much less understand it myself. Could Medicare/social security come back on me for the payments they shouldn’t have made-then tell me to get reimbursed by GB-who’d of course fight it?

Seriously thinking of canceling my appointment, I vowed to go to see Dr. Mind anyway. I gathered business cards etc and left. When I got there my friend Tyson told me that the new parking passes hadn’t come yet and that I’d have to park in another garage farther away and gave me a paper “key” to get out of the garage without paying. It meant walking around 400 yards the long way around two parking garages to get there, because sawhorses in the connecting hallway said I had to go to Canon St. to get to what was 100 yards away. (it was only after my return on foot that I discovered the shortcut that would’ve cut the trip by 2/3. By the time I got up to her office my left ankle and knee hurt like hell, and I still had to face the process of explaining all that to her with a splitting headache.

I sat in the waiting room for fifteen minutes trying to collect my thoughts… then went to her door with no answer. I hadn’t seen her in three weeks and needed to badly. I went to the reception area and was told she had a meeting and my appointment had been canceled. I was never told. The lady there said that if I hadn’t gotten a reminder call-I shouldn’t have come. I was about to flash into another rage when I turned around and there was Dr. Mind!!!

I was about to thank God that it was all a misunderstanding, when she said we couldn’t have our appointment because she couldn’t get out of the meeting. They were supposed to have sent me a letter telling me my appointment was canceled-but didn’t.

My head began to pound and all I could think was to get out of there before I did or said something stupid without realizing it until afterward. She promised she’d call me without fail that day and I hiked back to my car and drove to a gas station, using my last $10… why? In case I wound up in Zanesville or Indiana on one of my “disassociative” trips again.

I waited all day, hanging up on more collection calls and gave up around 9:30 with no call from her, Shut the phones off and went to bed.

I still don’t know if the unpaid co-pays are for covered sessions… but I still owe them over $1,600 that I don’t have… and I can’t get anyone to explain the whole thing to me so that I can understand it. Anything-even death is better than this.

I have the shining hope of paying my last car payment next March taunting me and then being able to barely able to live on what I’m taking in. Hope is just out of the reach of my fingertips, I can see it approaching at the speed that an hour hand moves on a clock, but I wonder if I can stand or survive7 more months of this before it finally arrives?

I actually have 6 pillows because sometimes at night I wake up from a nightmare/flashback in a cold sweat with a soaking wet pillow and have to exchange it for another dry one… sometimes twice a night. I can feel what sanity I have left falling apart like a soggy doughnut.


Wednesday September 27


I got really sick Thursday night. Now that I’ve been declared MMI, I expect GB to cut me off without warning. My stomach hurt, I was throwing up and had diarrhea. I’m probably growing another ulcer. It was the first time in a while that I felt dizzy and I went to bed because I was afraid of falling down or out of my chair. As soon as I laid down my groin began hurting like I’d been kicked hard in the balls. It didn’t go away until hours later and I was in agony. I was so worried, that I called Aunt Margaret and asked her to stay on the phone with me for a while.

Friday morning at 9AM no check was deposited and I threw up again and couldn’t stop crying. When I sat back down at the computer around 10AM the check had been deposited. I felt queasy the rest of the day. I called Family Medical pharmacy to get my refill of Cymbalta and as usual they told me that GB wouldn’t approve it without prior authorization again. I asked her to log the request on their computer like last time and hung up disgusted. I got a letter in the mail from Social Security telling me that there was a dispute over my income again and that I have to send in proof of my income over the last 6 years… which I don’t have. GB probably notified them that I was MMI and was about to dump me, so Disability will probably try to do the same. God I hate this.

I also got a letter from some independent shrink that GB hired, telling me that I have to show up October 13th. If it’s the same guy I saw there last time, I might as well give up now. He’s the same one who said I was “normal” after taking extra Cymbalta because I was worried about going to meet a stranger in an unfamiliar neighborhood. He reported to them that my only problem was that I was depressed because Heath Ledger died because I was a homosexual. All because I casually mentioned that I was trying to get back out into the world by writing articles at BC and that my latest one was about… you guessed it-Heath Ledger’s death. The deck’s stacked against me.

My stomach is turning because if both disability and GB cut me off at the same time next month I might as well jump off the Broad St. bridge now and get it over with. I was sick all day Friday and had the odd feeling like “something wasn’t right” physically.

I mostly slept over the weekend, between aunt Margaret calling me every other hour to see if I was still all right. I got the U-verse modem on Saturday, but I can’t hook it up until October 11th for some reason. I hope they keep their promise and don’t charge me all of the fees for the changeover. I wonder if I’ll ever have a time in my life again when I didn’t have something major to worry about?

Monday- Started out with a phone call from the girl at physical therapy telling me she needed to change my appointment this Thursday.

I had trouble getting on line to check my e-mail and called AT&T tech support. They’re changing their software and now I can’t directly log into my e-mail without looking at their homepage and a bunch of commercials. I asked her to double check my account for late charges etc and that’s when she told me that the nice lady that offered me U-verse for less wasn’t being nice and trying to help me out… AT&T’s phasing out DSL and making everyone go to broadband soon. If I hadn’t called when I did, my phone bill would’ve gone up $15 a month without warning and they’d have sent me the modem anyway.

I called the pharmacy Monday morning to find out if I could get my Cymbalta and they said it still hadn’t gone through. Later in the afternoon, I got a call that it’d been cleared for them to fill the prescription and I could come pick it up, so I called Giant Eagle and arranged for my Diabetes meds and the Carvedilol for my heart, which I’ll have to pay 4 bucks for.

While going over next month’s budget I discovered a massive mistake. I’d lumped my disability check on the 3rd and the GB check on the 6th into the same budget period. The trouble is if I’d programmed my checking to pay the bills, it all would’ve bounced because the GB check wouldn’t arrive until after the Rent check had cleared. When I separated them into two different periods, I only had $22 for 6 days worth of groceries… damn it. I drove out and picked up my prescriptions-mad because it was drizzling rain just barely enough to keep me from putting the top down, but not enough to call it rain.

The rain is making my knee hurt like hell and my elbow is really sore when I move it.

Tuesday-I got a call first thing from Work Health that they’d succeeded in sending some special paperwork form to GB to stop the “prior authorization” bullshit that’s plagued me for over 7 years… finally. I went to physical therapy and after the session, I went upstairs to thank her for all the hassle she went through… and she almost threw me into a rage through no fault of her own… She handed me a fax that was headed for shredding, but she saved it for me after sending it off to Family Medical pharmacy and to Jennifer Lawrence she’d just gotten saying that the agency that runs Workman’s comp doesn’t require prior authorization for Cymbalta. I nearly blacked out thinking about the grief I’ve suffered over that. I was so upset once that I wound up in Zanesville from a “disassociative episode.” If Jennifer Lawrence from GB had been standing there god knows what I’d have done.

Wednesday-First thing this morning, I got a call from Cheryl at Dr. P’s saying that they had to cancel my appointment and reschedule it. I told her I needed to talk to her urgently about GB not paying my physical therapy bills and she said she’d look into it and talk to me about it next Monday. The only time they have free is 8:40 in the morning… groan.

I began putting my notes together for my session with Dr. Mind this morning when who should call… Dr. Mind. She told me that my appointment had been “bumped” WHAT THE FUCK does no one want to have to see me today? It turns out it was bumped several days ago and she was calling to make sure I’d been notified… which I hadn’t. She said she’d call me back and I told her I really needed her today. When she didn’t call, I made a courtesy call to Tyson that he didn’t have to delay his lunch waiting for me to call for a parking pass, because my appointment had been canceled… sigh.

I can’t find my damned stamps to send Social Security what little paperwork I have. With GB cutting me off sooner than later and my having no extra money at all, I don’t see how I’ll be able to put enough aside to pay just the bare basic bills. I wish Dr. Mind would call back.