So I arrive home today to find a little envelope from St. Francis Hospital. You know, the place I was cooped up in for five days. This wasn’t a bill, as the little paper kept reiterating in bold type. This is just letting me know how much they’re trying to shake out of my insurance company. Are you ready for it? No seriously, are you ready for it?
The bill is nineteen THOUSAND dollars! Holy Fuckoley! No wonder so many people go bankrupt when illness/accident strikes. This total also doesn’t include the ancillary billing – pathology, radiology, labs, etc. That’s not even the whole amount of my bill either. There were some other numbers to it, but everything kinda greyed out after the comma.
On a personal note, my back is quite sore from the bone marrow thing yesterday. Well, not my back, per se, but it’s not my but either. If you don’t know where I’m talking about, then you really should read this daily.
So the soreness is kind of like when I have the flu and my joints get all sore. Naturally, having this area sore that is usually only sore when I have the flu makes me feel like I have the flu. Stupid brain. I’ve also discovered tham my 100 pound backpack bumps directly against the sore spot when I walk, and that when you put on your emergency brake (you know, the foot kind), you press against the sore area for leverage. Ugh.