Where were we?
Right. 12 year Doc said: It's your hips...torn labrums. I don't do that surgery. No one here does. You have to go to UCLA.
Me: Surgery? What about physical th-
Doc: Nope. They're torn. If you want to fix them, its surgery.
It took two months to get an appointment at UCLA.
Weird UCLA Doc's assistant tells me: She'll want to see your MRI.
Me: Ummm...well...I don't have that in my purse or anything. Can she get it from my last doctor?
Weird Assistant: We don't do that. You have to get them and bring them with you.
Now, I don't know about you, but the last I heard this was the 21st century. The digital age. I can take a photo with my freaking phone and email it to my kids. Has this news not hit the medical profession?
Me: Don't they just email them or something?
Weird Assistant: No. You have to bring them. If it wasn't film you could FAX them.
FAX? Should I just strap them to a pigeons leg and have them flown over? WTF?
Two months later in UCLA Doc's office. My appointment was at 1:00. She saw me at 3:00
UCLA Doc: I looked at the MRI and you do have torn labrums on both sides.
Me: I know.
UCLA Doc: But, this isn't the right kind of MRI.
Me: There's a wrong kind?
UCLA Doc: Yep. I need the kind with contrast. This one doesn't have contrast. So, you'll need to get that done at your local doctors office and come back.
Me: This is UCLA. You don't do that here?
UCLA Doc: No...yeah...well...it's best if you just do it there and bring the films with you again when you come back.
Me: It took me two months to get this appointment. It's a two hour drive, one way. Plus I waited two hours in the waiting room.
UCLA Doc: I'll have my assistant give you priority.
That was reassuring.
I head for the door.
UCLA Doc, pointing at my feet: You'll need to stop wearing those.
Those would be my stilettos.
Me: That's not gonna happen.
UCLA Doc, smiling: No, I'm not kidding. You can't wear those. You have a serious hip injury.
Me: I'm not kidding either. It's not gonna happen. Who's in charge now?
I thought she should know who she was dealing with.
Everybody knows the way you look is WAY more important than your health. Duh. I wasn't born yesterday.
Another month later in UCLA Doc's office with the right kind of MRI, stilettos ON. My appointment was at 2:00. I saw the doctor at 4:00.
UCLA Doc: You need surgery.
Me: I know. I knew that before I got here. With the wrong kind of MRI.
UCLA Doc, not really listening: I do one hip at a time, three months apart. My assistant will book it.
Me to Weird Assistant: I need to book my surgery.
Weird Assistant: She books 2-3 months out.
Two and a half months later, surgery day arrives.
It's been almost a year since my first doctors appointment.
Hubby and I are driving to UCLA, my cell phone rings.
Voice on phone: This is blah, blah, from Blue Shield.
Blah, Blah from Blue Shield: I'm afraid your hip surgery isn't covered by your current insurance plan.
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