A Lesson of Patience

I blogged about how I had to wait two weeks to see my orthopedic surgeon after my dog, Abby the Labby Number Nine tripped me going down the stairs, messing up my ankle and my problematic knee.

Within five minutes, doctor Walton diagnosed my seven-year old Anterior Cruciate Ligament transplant had probably torn.

But, more waiting had to be done to get an MRI. Eleven more days of not working, not driving, and struggling to do anything, like get my garden in.

The couple of days after the MRI stretched in a week. I became a squeaky wheel demanding grease. 

I blogged about how I had a choice between a short-term fix with arthroscopy and long-term fix of total knee replacement. Instinct without too much thought had me picking TKR. Get it over with was my thought. 

After research and advice, I changed my mind, and opted for the easy way out. The last time I had my knee scoped out, the recovery time wasn’t long, though probably longer than I am choosing to remember.

I waited for the surgical orders to be written. I had by this time returned to work and driving and could walk without that much of a limp. There were times when I thought I could skip the surgery, but my knee would remind me with sharp pains and clicking noises that if I wanted to bowl, garden, or walk down stairs, this wasn’t an option.

Yesterday I saw Dr. Walton for the pre-op. The ball was rolling. Surgery was scheduled for next Thursday. The waiting was over.

I was wrong. Slocum Orthopedics called to say that there was a glitch in pre-authorizing the procedure. Departments were finger pointing, saying that I was not their responsibility. I was told that there was nothing I could do but wait. 

July 6th is the new tentative date of surgery. But without definitive authorization by Moda, an insurance company that gets a grand a month for my coverage, I am in a canoe without paddles. At least the water is calm. Perhaps I can learn to be patient and perhaps even enjoy the wait. Maybe.


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