Peaches, You Guys are Just Peaches!

Thanks so much for your shared outrage and support over our dealings with Dr. Dillweed and the Dips.

Hubby came home with the mail last night after work. Got a letter from SS announcing an appointment with a NEW doc that basically said:

"Since you didn't make your previous appointment you better not miss this one with the new doctor, or else we'll make a determination on medical records alone."

And the date was scheduled for the day after Little Guy leaves for a week at summer camp.

I just about sat down and cried.

Then I bucked up. Screw them. His medical and school records are sufficient and complete. There ain't nothing in there that's going to indicate that he was actually trained to be a jet pilot in disguise who could earn 150k a year under the table while ripping them off for their $53.00 a month. No, not a typo.

About an hour later, the phone rang.

It was my sister-in-law, asking if I knew how to get a hold of Hubby. I told her he was swimming laps in the pool, and she said, "ok, can I talk to him"?

Can he call you back? He's been really stressed out, and I didn't want to go out there with the phone and get growled at.

"No, I need to talk to him now."

Yikes, is everything ok?

"No."

I've talked about his mom, who is 86 and lives back east. Since his dad died about a year and a half ago, he goes every couple of months for a week or so to spend precious time with her and help her with anything that needs to be done. He's got plane tickets to go spend a week with her on the 12th.

His siblings are actually half-sibs---children from his dad's first marriage. The half-sister who lives locally and the half-brother who is semi-local have been wonderful about filling in when he can't be there. But he's his mom's only baby boy.

Turns out that MIL went for a mammogram yesterday. While she was "in the vise" so to speak, she told the tech that she was feeling shaky and needed something to hold on to. The tech said, "wait until I get this picture".

Well, she fell down, broke her femur, sprained her wrist, ripped up the very thin skin on her arm---not to mention the--uh--part that was in the "wringer".

And the tech didn't even get the picture.

When we got the call, she'd been in the ER for hours (we got the call at 6pm which was 8pm there).

Blessedly, sis-in-law's son is a doctor with privileges in the hospital, and went down and raised hell about everything. And he knew her medical history better than the people from her assisted living place.

They were going to operate on her leg today, but she still had too much cumoden (blood thinner--don't know if I'm spelling it right) in her blood, so they put it off until tomorrow early morning.

Good news is that she isn't apathetic---she is thoroughly pissed off about the stupidity of the whole thing. Plus the hospital food. It sucks.

Better to fight her way through it, in our opinion. Oh, and Morphine is great.

Send good thoughts for her, would you?

So this morning, instead of feeling sorry for myself over this idiotic SS thing, I decided to work with the system, called and talked to the medical compliance person.

She assured me that the letter we received wasn't a reflection on the Dr. Dillweed episode, but a form letter that Social Security sends out. I told her the dates (before and after summer camp) that we could be available and she promised to work with us.

Whew.

_________________

Update: The surgery went well---they put a steel rod in MIL's leg, and she's resting---not exactly comfortably, but with a lot of good drugs. Thanks again for all your kind wishes!