Kindness and faith

The past two weeks have tried my patience and faith immensely.  Last week I developed mastitis, which any women who has ever breastfed will tell you is incredibly painful.  Awful, in fact.  And it happened very quickly - fever, redness, the works. (Since having children I have developed a semi-'push through it' attitude towards my own health.  Everyone always says that you have to take care of yourself, but I seriously doubt there is a parent out there who has not felt that they couldn't get sick because there simply isn't time to be sick.)

When I finally chose to do something about the mastitis, it was Friday morning.  I called my doctor and left a message explaining the situation.  Three hours later, the advise nurse returned my call and said the doctor was recommending ultra-sound physical therapy at the hospital.

*BACK STORY*
One of the scariest parts of this new life path was the complete loss of health benefits for our family. I've been denied individual health insurance for ages, and Daniel's group health insurance was a blessing.  Losing that was terrifying.  We had no choice but to continue individual coverage for me through COBRA, while the girls and Daniel went on other plans. 

I love my doctor.  I would go hang out with my doctor at the local pub - she's that amazing.  And the shift in COBRA means I no longer have the ability to keep my doctor, or her resources.  The girls can also no longer keep their pediatrician, who is amazing as well.  And I'm bitter...very bitter.  I'm trying to remind myself that at least I have insurance (for now.) I am not always successful in this endeavor.

*WE NOW RETURN TO OUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED BLOG*
I called the advise nurse back and requested a referral for someone in my new network.  Thirty minutes later and no response.  I called the new insurance company, and waited for twenty minutes on hold before someone told me that they couldn't give me any information on treatment options without a CPT code.  I called the advise nurse again, this time getting through, and requested a CPT code.  She said she would get back to me.  Thirty-five minutes later, the advise nurse could only tell me one CPT code that might work with the insurance.  She also said that she called the new network's hospital to see if there were any openings for treatment, and there were no openings until the middle of next week. 

I called the insurance company again, waited on hold again, and was told that the CPT code was not valid according to their computer system.  They could, however, email me a list of physical therapists in the area and I could call to see if someone was available.  Awesome.

At 2:34 pm on Friday afternoon, I received an email from the health insurance company with a list of 219 physical therapists that I could call to see if they have any openings.  By this time I was in tears and completely frustrated.  I called Daniel and cried.  I called my mother and cried.  My mother cried.  (I really hate it when my mother cries - I feel bad.) 

By then Daniel had driven to Whole Foods, in search of Lecithin.  Several mom blogs on breastfeeding swore by the supplement and I was willing to try anything. I said a silent prayer and began calling down the list of 219 physical therapists, watching the clock and trying to entertain the girls at the same time.  I left two messages at two different places.  No one called me back.  I was about to give up and was thinking about going to the emergency room instead. I felt guilty for even thinking of that, since I knew that the cost even with insurance would be more than we could afford. 

3:15 pm rolls around and I decide to call one more place.

This time, someone answered the phone.  She told me that it was unlikely I could be seen that day, but she would check. I started to sob on the phone, while Aurelia screamed for applejuice in the background.  I sat on hold...and waited...and waited. 

An appointment was available - LAST APPOINTMENT OF THE DAY. 4:45 pm and the therapist was staying later than normal just to see me.  I couldn't believe it.  I cried even more.

Daniel came home and thoughtfully brought cookies.  ( I think he's a keeper.)  After he came in the door, he walked right back out again, leaving the door open.  It was very weird.  My neighbors started trickling in the front door.  (I am really embarrassed by the state of our house right now, even though we have worked really hard to get it to where it is so far.  Pictures still aren't hung up, piles of stuff line the hallway, things aren't organized the best way possible...it's just not where we want it to be.)  But our neighbors came in because Daniel asked them to.  They came in to pray with us.

I was, and still am, humbled by both my husband asking for prayers on my behalf, but also for our neighbors, who still don't know us very well, but surrounded us with love and prayers. 

I felt a peace in my heart that afternoon that I truly believe came from God.  And I know that it was due to those prayers.