So I Decided To Stop By...

Oh. Hello there peeps.  Yes, I know.  Another week without a peep out of me!  Trust me, it was a long week indeed and frankly I am upset that my weekend is only two days long, because I could use another few days off, after the craziness here.

Last Sunday night, Tiger's surgical scar reopened, to the point where he was gushing blood everywhere and I had to rush him to the children's hospital in Orlando.  He's good now, but we now have a referral to a peds gastroenterologist because the surgeon is now suspecting he may have something called Crohn's Disease, or Inflammatory Bowel Disease.  This poor kid has been suffering for so long, and my heart breaks for him.  I wish I could take on this illness, whatever it is, to give him some comfort. 

Then, my coworker who possibly does even more work than I do, was diagnosed with bladder cancer.  And it appears to be a very aggressive, rare kind.  She is not taking it well, and has been missing work, which means all I do is work, trying to help keep her workload manageable when she does come back.  Which means that I am getting headaches, nosebleeds, and back spasms from sitting at my computer so much.  Then my computer managed to catch another virus which slows me down at work.  When I complained about it to the MIS guys, the accused me of purposely downloading stuff I am not supposed to do, and I challenged them to scour the company PC.  All I do is work on it (I have my personal laptop for my own stuff!) and frankly I don't have time to play games!  I'm trying to do the work of three people!!!

On Friday, I was asked to train the new hire.  I agreed, but frankly, I'm not happy about it.  So I'm good enough to train new people, but not good enough for a raise?  I have been seething over this.  And then when I finally got a break, which was yesterday (Saturday) I ended up with a migraine so bad I ended up sleeping on the cold tiles in my bathroom and vomiting repeatedly.  Oh, and I did take a pregnancy test, which of course was negative, just in case it wasn't a migraine, but early pregnancy.  Nope.  Just my body disgusted with me for not taking care of it, for feeding it really bad food, and for working until my eyeballs want to jump out of the sockets and run screaming for the door. 

Today, I went to church.  It was such a blessing to walk in and immediately be comforted by the welcoming atmosphere.  No one asked me if their surgery was authorized, or asked me how much the copay was.  I did not hear my email ding.  My phone did ring but I had it on silent.  Thank you, Lord, for peaceful, restful Sundays!

My Ross dress purchased March 2013 for #13.  Blue Avenue tank, and purple American Eagle flats with purple Target jewelry.  That's what's fun about this dress...I can pick any color I want to emphasize. 

Now I'm going to go inside, help the boys with their laundry (our machine broke...again...second time this year.  Don't ever buy Samsung appliances!) and get ready for a memorial service at church this afternoon. 

Slowly Returning to Normal

Hubby is home and he took my picture today; it occurred to me that I hadn't done any pictures in about two weeks, except for Tiger being in the hospital.  It feels good to be doing things I normally do; go to church, go grocery shopping, that kind of thing.  Tiger is recuperating great and we have an appointment on Wednesday for a final check up.

I had to buy this dress when Tiger was in the hospital.  I went out to Target to get him new pjs because he had hemorrhaged over his old ones (sorry if that's gross, but blood and vomit and poo don't bother me much) and I got caught in a horrific rain storm with no umbrella.  I couldn't go home, so I just bought this dress while I was there.  I bought it too big unfortunately, but it's super comfortable and I actually happen to be wearing it again right now as I'm typing this.  It's Merona (like I have to say that) size 2 in plus.  I should have gotten the 1.  It's easily three inches too long and big in the shoulders for me.  Wearing my blue Avenue cardi and a blue tank.  I think I'm wearing pink flops, I can't remember what shoes I wore today.

Off to buy Tiger a new mattress (it was destroyed during his illness, I couldn't get rid of all the blood and stuff that had seeped into it and we decided to toss it and start over) and go grocery shopping, too.

The famous magnolia tree, this time I managed to avoid the ant piles.

Our sego palm, but my neighbor's house. 

And a reminder that Tiger is not my only child; here are Bucket and Missy having a quick afternoon snack at Zaxby's in Orange City, Florida.

We're Home!

I gave Tiger antibiotics for three days.  Antibiotics which didn't seem to work.  His fever spiked.  He was in pain.  Finally, on Thursday morning, I gave up.  I packed up some clothes, got my kid, and ran down to the hospital.  And discovered that he didn't have cellulitis at all, but a perianal abcess and rectal fistula.
We were transported via ambulance to the children's hospital in Orlando (we were minutes ahead of President Obama's motorcade, as he happened to be in Orlando that day!) where he underwent emergency surgery to remove the blockage in his rectum.  Because his fever was so high and he was in so much, he was admitted overnight.
He spent two days in the hospital.  We came home Saturday.  I didn't go to church today; I have mounds of laundry to do, medication to administer, bills to pay, and two other children to care for.  I am exhausted, but HAPPY.  My son is going to be ok; if I had waited much longer, I'm not sure how well the prognosis would be.

Playing MarioKart on a DS that the staff gave him,, to keep him occupied during his recovery.

The staff even brought in a therapy dog!  It was a labradoodle named Sasha.

He is so weak he literally can't move forward to pet the dog.

Back at home in his awesome Spongebob jammies since he is still too sore to wear actual pants.

High on morphine.

My friend's son Andrew came to visit.

Update On My Son

No better, no worse.

First round of antibiotics was a fail.  Since it has been over 5 years since his last round of antibiotics, this should have done the trick instantly.  Instead, the mass grew and got more painful.  We went back to the doctor today, and she took him off the first dose, started a second dose and added a powerful pain killer.  Meanwhile, he is still feverish, but not really hurting.  He can't walk on put any pressure on his leg and buttock area.

I want to trust this doctor.  She is a kind woman, and I know she would do nothing to hurt my boy.  But I am torn.  I kind of want to take him to the hospital.  It has been three days and he is not any better, and I hate watching my child suffer.  But if I take him to the hospital, I worry that all they are going to do is tell me to continue the medications, and send me home.  But what if this antibiotic isn't do anything, either?  What if he has MRSA and he is slowly growing septic?  Darn this hospital background right now!  My mind keeps going to things that "could" happen or "might" happen.
Just keep praying.  Please and thank you.

Not Good.

I haven't posted in a few days because it has been crazy, and not in a good way over here.
Missy turned 17 on Sunday.  I can't even believe it.  On Saturday, we went shopping for her, plus school clothes for the boys.  I guess our credit union decided we spent too much money, because they shut our account down, effectively leaving both me and Mr. R with no money.  He was in Oklahoma when THAT happened.  It took two days to fix that.

On Sunday, Tiger complained that his...well, butt, was hurting.  I honestly thought it was because we had spent hours walking on Saturday.  I even cracked jokes (get it?  cracked?)  and assumed he just had a bug bite of some sort.  By Sunday, it was clear that he was in real pain and under duress, he finally allowed me to look at it.  I almost cried for him.  A huge red mass which started on his thigh and went all the way up, I knew I'd have to take him to the doctor.

I called the doctor Monday, and they got us in for an appointment two hours later.  He was diagnosed with cellulitis of the buttocks, legs and groin.  He is on an antibiotic for a week, 4 times a day.   We have a follow up appointment tomorrow, and if the mass hasn't gone down, we will likely have to take him to hospital to have it removed; yes, that means surgery.  This happened SO FAST.  I have barely slept, I keep hopping up to take his temperature because he has also been running a fever through the whole thing.  He finally broke down tonight; he is in so much pain he sat on the couch and cried.  I made him take a cold shower to bring the fever down and he fell in the shower, because he can hardly stand.  I may even insist that he sleep in bed with me tonight so I can keep an eye on him.  And for the first time in 8 years, I called in sick.

So that's why no pictures, no updates.  Mothering has always come first to me.  This blog is fun and I enjoy doing it, but my baby is my baby.  I will try to keep you all updated.  It is about three weeks until school starts, and I am praying this is not so prolonged that he misses school.  Please keep him in your prayers!

Day 14 of June Dresses; Could I Look More Exhausted?

But there's a good reason for this tired mug.  I got up at 5am so I could take Bucket to the hospital for lab work.  Then I worked all day with no lunch break to make up for being late to work today.  Then, Missy and I babysat two kids after work; one a 14 year old girl in a wheelchair, and the other a 4 year old girl who was all over the place.  Mr. R is home, so I made homemade manicotti, and now I am sitting on facebook and blogger, completely pooped and ready to fall asleep.

Target dress, Walmart pants, and JCPenney tank.  I've worn this outfit before.  No make up, no jewelry, no stamina.  I.AM.POOPED.

WHOA...hello gray hairs on the back of my  head.  Oh, and pardon the stack of amps.  Tiger had just had his music lesson.

This is what exhausted me.  I filled each one of these with a spoon!  It took forever.  But it was worth it, I think.

Half of this pan disappeared before I got to take a picture!

Oh, The Pain

So I got snazzy new running shoes, and then hit my proverbial brick wall.  Dealing with immense pain in my left heel, I went to my pcp today to rule out anything diabetic.  Lucky for me, she thinks it's bone oriented, like a stress fracture or heel spur.  I have a script for an xray of my left foot, but didn't have time to go today and hoping I can go tomorrow on my lunch break.  The pain is so bad I can hardly walk on it.

Work has been...intense.  Unlimited overtime available due to incredibly high volumes at work.  I've taken advantage of it for the past three weeks, although not horribly so; about 3-5 hrs per week.  With adding te extra work, three things have happened:

1) I broke out into massive pimples all over my chin.
2) I started having headaches directly behind my left eye.
3) I started having my left eyelids fluttering, driving me insane because I have long eyelashes which keep poking me in the eye.

Dr. V's diagnosis?  STRESS.  Her prescription:  Take time off work.  HAHAHAHAHAHA!  It's only Wednesday night and I've worked 29 hours this week, and will probably close out at around 50 by Friday.  Thankfully, Missy's drivers ed class is over so I can sleep in this Saturday, and you bet I will.  Oh...this also means that my daughter is now a licensed driver.  She is already bugging us to buy her a car.

Pictures lately are awful due to massive pimply break out.  I took pictures and hated them all:

Please do not attempt to connect the dots.

Too old for a balloon, but he got one out of the teacher anyway.

"Jesus Loves Me...and look at these guns."

Nutmeg the Kitty approves this blog post.

No Work Friday

I worked 35 hours in 4 days this past week because I had Friday off.  I was supposed to take Tiger to an oral surgeon for an impacted wisdom tooth, but the dentist referred me to an out of network provider so I had to cancel the appointment the day before (I don't pay dental insurance so I can be a self pay!).  At first I was ticked because I was wasting one of my precious pdo days, but I decided to keep the day off, and hang out with my hubby.  I made him take pictures before we left for the day.

I really not sure what is wrong with that man.

Mr. R "Hey babe, I'm sorry.  I cut off your feet.  Do it again."

Mr. R: "Your feet are too little anyway.  I'm not sure it makes a difference if they're in the picture or not.  And it looks like you're barefoot."  (note:  I wear a size 8 1/2, and I am wearing sandals!)

What I'm Wearing:  Purple prescription sunglasses.  Black knit 3/4 sleeve cardigan from Avenue, size 18/20 (it's getting a bit big on me.  The shoulders roll on it, but it's such a versatile piece!  I may try to find it on eBay in a size 16.)  Green maxi dress which my mom hemmed for me to be knee length.  I think it's a Jessica London, I can't remember.  It's a size "L" which is 18/20 in Jessica London language, and it's also getting too big for me.  Sandals, Avenue, size 9W, so they're also a bit big on me.  (is anyone here seeing a pattern of me wearing stuff that doesn't fit well?) And last but not least, my gorgeous new bag my sister-in-law bought me for Christmas, an authentic red Louis Vuitton bag.  I feel like a fraud carrying it when everything else I own is from Target, Walmart, and the like.

I am dying for a hair cut, but I said I wouldn't cut my hair.  But ugh, I am so annoyed with it lately!

This Chapped My Hide

I think today is the kind of day where I walk around perching my fingers above my eyes with that squinty look...mostly because I seem to keep running into people who are purposely trying to annoy me! 

1)  Doctor office calls me because they want to order a test, but they don't know what the cpt code is for the test.  And it wasn't even a fancy test that you don't order a lot of; it was an ordinary test that you could see many, many times per week.  I asked the girl who called me if they have a cpt code book, a superbill, or even a cheat sheet that they can keep a regular list of codes handy, and she said curtly, "I don't need it."  Well, clearly, YA DO, because you shouldn't be calling me to do YOUR JOB.  Ya dig?

2)  I had to drive all the way to hubby's work in Sorrento to pick up his check, even though we pay an administration fee of $52 a week and somehow they can't figure out how to deposit his check electronically, so I had to drive to get it because our bank is not open on weekends.  So, instead of taking lunch, I drove 45 minutes in the rain to get his check.  I waited in front of the receptionist and she was on the phone, so I stood there quietly until she finished.  Mid-sentence, she looked up at me and raised her eyebrow, so I assumed she wanted to know why I was there; so I whispered, "I'm here to get his check" and she YELLED AT ME!  "Ma'am, I am on the phone with someone and you will have to wait your turn!"  Let me tell you; if I had been anywhere except where my husband happens to work, I can assure you I would have walked out of that office with that lady's head in my purse.  I bit my tongue and laughed inside when the person she was on the phone with hung up on her (probably because she yelled in his ear!).  Then she asked me for my husband's name (he's worked there for 7 years, she still doesn't remember me, whatever!) and then she handed me the wrong check.  I handed it back and said, "This isn't his."  She then yelled at me again, "YOU SAID JAMES XXXXXX"  and finally I said in my very loud New York-accented ticked off voice "I think I know what my husband's name is!"  Then she realized that she grabbed the wrong one, and then sees my husband's check and says, "What street do you live on?"  I tell her, and she hands me the correct check. 

3)  Package deals.  Let me explain.  I get the paper on weekends.  However, I only want the Sunday paper.  Did you know that it's cheaper for me to get the paper on two days, than one day?  I feel so bad for the Saturday paper.  I never read it.  It goes straight into recycling.  Why is is cheaper to get two days of paper than just one?  The same for cable/internet service.  Do you know how hard it is to find just internet service?  Maybe I don't want cable!  Maybe I just want to surf the net!  What is so wrong with that?

Pffft.  Pictures will be back soon.  I just needed to vent.

Goodbye, Dear Friend

I've known...maybe for a few weeks, that the end was close for Roscoe.  Basset hounds are notoriously lazy, and this dog managed to get even lazier.  He slept constantly, peed on himself in his sleep, had accidents all over the house.  I followed him with a mop for a good month.  Still he was cheerful and sweet to the kids.  I just thought he was aging.  On Saturday night, while Mr. R was out with his friends fishing, he had an accident in Missy's room.  I got him outside to finish his deed while Missy mopped her room.  She was angry.  I wasn't happy, but I didn't yell either, just let him out and proceeded to go about my business.

A half hour later, I let him in.  He was limping really bad, and he hadn't been limping earlier.  I checked his paws for snake bites, and saw nothing.  He almost seemed drunk; stumbling around which is so not like him.  In the 8 years we had this dog, I've never seen him do anything like that.  I had to help him into his crate.  He turned around, flopped down, looked up at me and sighed.  I patted him on the head, and told him he was a good dog.  Then he went to sleep.

Mr. R came in the house maybe 90 minutes later; normally I'd hear Roscoe get excited to hear Mr. R come in, but nothing.  I remember laying in bed, thinking that was odd.  I called out to my husband, and he said he was going to watch tv in the living room for a bit so as not to disturb me, and I drifted back off.  Mr. R fell asleep on the couch, and came to bed with me around 4:30.  Then I woke up at 7:30...nearly an hour past my usual time to wake up.  I overslept?  How the heck did that happen? Roscoe gets me up at the crack of dawn so he can potty!  I threw the covers off, and ran to his crate, and when I saw him, I knew.  I knew he was dead.  He normally sleeps facing outward to see Bucket who sleeps on the couch every night.  Instead Roscoe was facing the wall, with his butt facing out.  I tiptoed over to the crate and opened the door.  I tried to rattle the door, but he wasn't moving.  I ran back into the bedroom and woke up Mr. R.  "Pssst.  Babe.  Wake up!  I think Roscoe is dead."  He jumped out of bed, ran to the crate, and confirmed my suspicions.  My eyes started to well up.  I let the kids know he was dead.  Missy cried; Tiger is busy being "manly" and Bucket never liked Roscoe.  We buried Roscoe in the backyard in his favorite spot to sun himself.  Mr. R suspects that Roscoe may have died right after I put him to bed, because he was already cold and stiff.  I'm so glad I made him a special dinner of scrambled eggs and sausage to mix into his dog food, so at least I know his last meal was a good one.  I'm so glad he could die in his own bed, in his own crate, surrounded by his people.  Heck, I hope I'm blessed in that way myself.

I went to the doctor today for a normal check up and my blood pressure is awful again.  My sugar is good but they want to put me back on Metformin, which made me super sick.  I said yes, and I'm just going to halve the pills and hope it will jumpstart me on some weight loss.  I also tore a ligament in my right ankle, so I'm going to not do Couch to 5k for about a week and hopefully this ankle will repair itself.  It's sore, swollen and the most pretty purple right now.  It was weird to come back to the house and not be greeted by Roscoe, wagging his tail.  He was really a friendly dog. 

Another job I applied for at the hospital was closed, so again I didn't even get an interview.  So disgusted.

Anyway, we do not plan to get another dog.  I am kind of over the pet thing.  We are going to take Roscoe's stuff and donate it to the Humane Society.  Probably head over there tomorrow.  We still have the three cats, O'Malley, Hercules and Buck.  O'Malley is 12, nearly 13, so I'm guessing he will be next.  Hercules is 5 and Buck is 2 or 3.  A friend of mine is trying to give kitties away and I am emphatically saying NO to everyone. 

14 Years Ago Today

I had my sweet baby boy, Tiger.  My firstborn son.  I had him at the hospital which I now work at, Florida Hospital Orlando.  I knew I was having a boy, and so very excited because he would be a new adventure after having a baby girl almost two years prior.  He was born two weeks before my 22nd birthday.  His due date was April 27th.  On April 28th, an ultrasound was performed, and it was determined that he weighed nearly ten pounds.  In a panic, I agreed to an induction.  The thought of a 10 lb baby terrified me.

I arrived at the hospital very early.  Missy was not quite two years old, and she had spent the night at her Nana's house.  I was expecting this labor to be quick; after all, I had just had a baby less than two years before, and her labor took only 9 hours.  I was really, really hoping that this would take only half the time.  After all, "they" always say that second or subsequent labors are faster, right?

Honestly, you'd think I'd know better.  This child insisted on not going anywhere.  It took forever to dilate, probably because I insisted on an epidural before even getting in a gown.  Mr. R and I watched tv, napped, played Uno, napped, watched TV.  Labor was boring.  Now, I happened to have the good fortune of my nurse being my aunt!  That's right, my Aunt Fran was a labor and delivery nurse at the hospital.  When she saw my name, she switched with another nurse and stayed with me the entire time.  So I can truthfully say that my aunt has seen my cervix.  Actually, I can say that my aunt has seen me completely naked at 9 months screaming at the top of my lungs.  Pleasant, no?

At midnight on April 29th, going into April 30th, my aunt turned off the lights.  I was still only 5 centimeters.  She suggested that I nap until it was showtime.  I agreed.  Now, the way this room was set up was weird.  There were controls on the bed to call the nurse.  However, these controls was in remote control form.  Without my knowing, Mr. R had disconnected the remote from my bed, and was holding it in his lap, across the room while he slept in the recliner.  Not knowing this, I fell asleep, and so did he.

Three hours later, I woke up with a start.  And a feeling of fullness...DOWN THERE.  I gingerly touched myself and realized that I was not touching myself...that was a BABY'S HEAD.  OH MY GOODNESS!!!  I immediately snapped to attention, and hit the call nurse button.  Nothing!  I screamed, "Aunt Fran!!!!!"  Nothing.  I was at the far end of the hall, with the door shut.  Then I yelled out my husband's name.  Man was dead asleep.  It was, after all, 3am.  He wouldn't wake up.  Again, this is not surprising, considering how he can sleep through a baby screaming right next to his head.  Now I'm in a complete panic.  I can feel the baby's head, I can't call the nurse, and my husband was snoring, less than 20 feet away from me!

Peeps, I did what I had to do.  I turned to my bedside table, and there was my alarm clock.  I had brought it with me to time contractions.  It was about the size of a softball.  I played baseball and softball and heck even stickball throughout my childhood.  I took that clock, and my years of experience playing ball, and I threw it.  And nailed Mr. R.  Right in the head.

"Owwwwww!  Dammit Sarah, what the hell?!?!"

"Get Fran!  The baby is coming!"

"Why didn't you call her yourself?"

"Because YOU have the remote, bonehead!"

Silence.  Then, "Oh crap.  I sure do."  Then he ran to the door, found my aunt, and she ran in and saw Tiger's head peeking out into the world.  She set up the bed, called the doctor, who happened to be right there.  Know why?  Because my obstetrician's wife had just had a baby a few hours before me, next door!  He was still in there with her when it was my turn.  As soon as the bed was set up, I pushed one time and he popped right out.  This was after 13 hours of labor, although I didn't feel much of it since I had my trusty epidural.  And he was certainly not 10 pounds.  My son was 8lb, 4oz.  A perfectly reasonable weight for a person of my size.  To me, he looked just like Missy, except with outdoor plumbing.  Even Mr. R observed that we now had two kids who looked exactly like me...no one looked like him yet.  He had jet black hair, and blue eyes, and chubby cheeks.  He nursed like a champion.  He was a sleepy boy.  In fact, he was sleeping through the night right away, but I still getting up with Missy.  I would walk to his crib and poke him to make sure he was breathing.  While Missy was a very high maitenence baby, Tiger was very laid back, chill, and happy.  He loved people instantly.  He was a complete flirt.  He knew right away how to bat his eyelashes to get what he wanted.  To this day, I still feel like he was my easiest child to raise.  He slept well, was rarely sick, polite, easy going, and generally just a sweet kid.

This is him at age 6, visiting my other aunt, Aunt Nancy, in upstate New York.  She threatened to keep him.  Can I just mention here...It is early June and so cold at night in upstate that my boys had to wear flannel pjs.  That is Bucket behind him wearing red pjs.  My aunt's house also had stairs, which they'd never seen before (most homes in Florida are single story ranches because of crazy cooling costs) so they played up and down on the stairs for hours. 

I sometimes look at him now, and can't believe he is already fourteen years old.  He is at least four inches taller than me.  He wears a size 12-13 shoe in mens.  When my mom took them to Cici's Pizza, he ate thirteen slices of pizza (she was counting.)  He wears the same size pants as my husband now.  He is a fabulous musician, plays 5 instruments (bass guitar, alto saxophone, piano, baritone saxophone and guitar.)  He is hoping to play football next year for our high school.  He'll BE IN HIGH SCHOOL IN AUGUST!!!  His favorite subject at school, besides  music, is history.  But he hates math.  He has awful handwriting, but can type pretty quickly.  He loves a range of music from hard rock, metal, country and Christian.  He loves to fish, but hates swimming in the ocean because he got stung by jellyfish about three years ago.  He is very sensitive; there is a girl at school that he adores, and when she started going out with someone else, he cried.  Because of his size and his apparently mean look, lots of kids seem to be scared of him, but he's really just a big teddy bear deep inside.  I've always said that I think he'll be the first one to get married.

I just truly love him, and so glad that God decided to bless me with such an awesome boy to raise into manhood.  Happy Birthday, sweet son.  I love you dearly.

You Can't Fool Me

As with any accident which results in an emergency room visit, I knew I'd be getting bills in the mail.  The fact that I received one only two weeks after my daughter was seen very much surprised me.  As far as medical billing is concerned, that is QUICK.  I opened the bill and nearly laughed.

$490.  Please pay now.

I thought to myself, OH HECKZ TO THE NO.  I don't think so, homeskillet.  So I called the medical billing agency to find out why the bill was so high.  And, why they got it to me so quickly. 

Here is the deal in Florida, in case any of my local bloggy friends are ever in an accident.  Florida is a no fault state, which means that no matter who is at fault in the accident (in this case, I was already found at fault... sigh), the person's own auto insurance pays for the first 80% of all bills, up to a limit of $10,000.  Then, your own health insurance, if you have any, will kick in for the additional 20%.  For the lady and her family who was injured in the crash, she has the right to sue my insurance to pay for her remaining 20% which is due, and rightfully so.  I already happen to know she is suing me, but that is another story entirely.

Anyway, I should not be receiving any bills.  Not one.  80% + 20% = 100% = why are you sending me a bill.

So I left a message for the billing company.  They called me back after two days.  They are claiming they didn't know it was an auto accident, and didn't know I had any insurance, even though I had all this information with me at the hospital and had to show it to the financial people several times.  In fact, while my daughter was being treated, they pulled me away a few times to ask me the same questions over and over:  "Is this auto?  Who's your auto insurance?  Were you at fault?  Who's your regular health insurance?"  And considering that not only this is my third car accident in Florida, and that I DO MEDICAL CODING AND BILLING FOR A LIVING, I not only had all this info on me, but I knew it in my head by heart and gave it to them.  Several times.  All so they could send me a bill stating that they had no idea which insurance I had.

I think I know why.

I believe that they are hoping, that either in my grief, stupidity, or just lack of knowledge, that I will just pay the $490 and they don't have to bother dealing with insurance.  Insurance takes forever, they review stuff, and that means hospitals are without their money while they wait.  However, if you bill people and they don't know their rights, or insurance laws, or even how insurance works, many will just pay the bill.  Just to get it out of the way.  Ha...not me.

So, for the millionth time, I gave the billing rep the claim number, my claim adjuster, my policy number, and the phone number and address to my auto insurance.  Then I gave, again, my medical insurance policy number, the group number, the phone number, and the address.  I made her repeat it.  Then I asked her to send me a bill with a 0 balance so I could file it. 

I know these bills are scary, and confusing, and these people will hound the crap out of you for their money.  If you owe money, you should absolutely pay your bills.  However, we pay insurance, both health and auto, for this reason exactly.  In the case of an accident, no matter who is at fault, your medical bills should be taken care of for a limit of up to $10,000 in the state of Florida.  Don't let all the phone calls and paperwork scare you.  Get a folder.  Keep everything in the folder.  Keep a log of who calls you with their name, phone number, name of company, and what they want, with a time and date.  Be organized in the time of crisis.  You're still going to have a crisis, believe me, but the less stress you have, the better.