Game ball

Warning: this post contains some time out words.

How do I process the game you played?

I am the subject of the game.

Or the victim.

Or no, I refuse. It is your game. I was not playing. I am the honey badger, metabolism so fast that I have to run from one meal to the next or else I will starve. I eat whatever I can find: cobras, bees, anything. I eat or I die.

You have tethered a honey badger to oxygen by playing a game.

I am the football and you have been kicking me, throwing me, catching me, slamming me to the ground as hard as you can in the end zone.

And now that I am worn and damaged and torn, you’ll toss me away, not even notice me, and find a new ball.

You will need a new football. To play with.

I don’t envy that person.

The truth is, it will be one of you. The group will rest on their laurels, oh, we nearly killed her, wasn’t it great? We showed her. She is so stupid, took her what, 21 years to fucking figure it out? And she thinks she’s so smart.

I was looking for food because I am always hungry. The food insecurity goes back to infancy. Maybe to the womb: my mother says she was not to gain weight and spent the entire pregnancy longing for a gigantic ice cream Sunday. Think of being in a womb, attacked by antibodies to tuberculosis, and starving all the time. Might be a little bit worried when birth happens. Fuck, I am going through a tunnel, what horrors await me here? But maybe there will be more food.

Maybe someone will love me. Maybe there will be someone for me to love. And feed. We can give each other food.

My advice to you is don’t be the ball. I was the ball for 21 years. I was so hungry the whole time, for food and for love, that I kind of noticed but dismissed it as unimportant. Food and love were more important. Work and my patients were more important. You don’t matter and your games are trivial.

It will be the weakest one who will be the ball. You worry that you are the one. You should worry. You had better look strong right away. Post some horror. Write something really tough. Don’t show anyone any niggling doubts. Um, the ball is wearing oxygen. I am feeling a little bad about this. Are you feeling bad about this? The ball isn’t just crazy, it’s hurt. Actually crazy is an illness too: I know that you discriminate and think that cancer is a legitimate illness and that mania isn’t, but you are assholes. No, you’re too small and pathetic to be an asshole. You are a one celled animal that is clinging to a hair on an asshole and you get shat on daily. And you know, deep deep in your tiny shrunken heart, that you deserve it.

I am so glad I am not you.

I am tethered to oxygen. But I am healing. I don’t think you can. You are locked in your small sick pathetic triangulation competition and pretending that it’s a game that it’s ok that you are just playing.

Ick.

Meanwhile, the oxygen is portable.

I have food and I have love and I have work to do that lifts me on wings. I will go too near the sun and light on fire and fall burning, but that’s ok. I’ve done it before. The ocean heals me, always. It is so much fun to fly!

This is in memory of my mother, my father and my sister. I miss all three and I love them and they love me. Today is the day my mother died. The longer we live, the more days are days when someone that we love died. But they are still here. They are in the rocks and the sky and the trees and the coffee cup. They are not in sugary donuts or foods that cause heart attacks. But they are all around us, cradle us, still love us. Joy to you and the memories of your loved ones who have gone on. Blessings.

Doctors don’t charge for phone calls

Doctors don’t charge for phone calls.

Attorneys do: they charge in fifteen minute increments.

Doctors don’t charge for phone calls: oh, but actually that is a myth. And it’s raising the cost of health care in the US because the insurance companies are using this myth to their advantage. Not only is this costing every one of us more money, but it is driving doctors out of practice. And it’s making patients bitter and angry at the doctor, when it is the insurance that should bear the blame…

Why do I say this?

A patient calls their health insurance. “I need x.”

The health insurance says, “Have your doctor’s office call for a prior authorization.” Now, we are definitely paying the health insurance to have someone say that to the patient.

The patient calls the doctor’s office and requests the prior authorization. There, a second person is being paid to get that phone call.

The doctor’s staff runs it by the doctor. The doctor says, yes, the patient needs that or no, I would like a visit to discuss this. More time that we pay for.

If the doctor says yes, the doctor’s office contacts the insurance by phone or on line to do a prior authorization. This means a different website for every one of 1300 insurance companies in the US. We are paying the doctor’s office staff to be on the phone and on the computer to fill out prior authorization forms to get permission from the insurance if your doctor agreed that you need x or that x would be helpful. We also are paying for all of those websites that the insurance companies have to slow down giving the patient care.

I don’t have an office staff to do this. I have a bare bones clinic so that I can spend more time with patients. I call the insurance myself with the patient in the room.

More than half the time the insurance company says that x is not covered under the patient’s plan.

But wait. The patient already called the insurance to ask if they could get x. And the insurance said have your doctor get prior authorization. So in the usual office, the patient is called and told that x is not covered. The patient is angry, because they think that the doctor’s office has messed up the prior authorization. The insurance does not want to tell the patient it is not covered. So our costs spiral up and up and up, because the insurance has realized that they would rather have the patient angry at the doctor’s office, not the insurance.

And we all are paying for it with our health care dollars…..