Wednesday, April 8, 2015

Pay up

Greetings...a late afternoon post to update you on the kid's progress....

We landed up traveling to campus today to speak directly to the team doctor who was completely against surgery. Equipped with the images and MRI results, we hit the turnpike.

Why? Why should we care about the team doctor?

Well, from a political perspective, we had to speak directly to the guy and ask him what he saw in the images and his take on what we were planning.

Unable to get a parking space near the building, I parked two miles away while the big lefty got a closer spot. We actually drove separately to leave his car on campus since he is not allowed to drive for a week post op.

Image result for MRI images gifAs he lumbered down the side walk, we finally got to the office and met with the doctor. He unzipped the file and began to scrutinize it. He then said "I guess I see what they are talking about, but we did not have this on our images."

Uh huh

"You know, all surgeons want to do is operate."

Uh huh

"I am worried that he thinks that he will rehab and be back on the mound by the end of the season. It might be too much."

Uh huh

Then I spoke:

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"Doctor, I did not just fall off the turnip truck (not a great way to begin, but effective). We consulted a number of experts and did our homework and due diligence. Based upon his clinical signs, physical assessment, and images, he has a tear and needs the surgery. In addition, I would not allow any child of mine to undergo surgery unless it was absolutely necessary. The evidence is compelling. He tried to sit it out per your recommendation and is in more pain than ever. Do you have any other strategies?"

His face reddened and he did not make eye contact. Then he said: "Once I get the report from MJ, I will consult the team's surgeon and I will get back to you."

Thank you. It took five minutes. Then the kid was off to tell the coach, trainer, and pitching coach. As he entered the trainer's office, he could not have been more kind and vowed to work with him throughout the rest of the year.

Then he went into Psycho's office. According to the lefty, the coach did not look up once. As he finished telling him the story, the coach said "that sucks." And that was it.

"That sucks...." That was his words of sympathy, wisdom, and condolences. Actually, I know what the coach was thinking. It sucked for him as a coach and not for the big kid who leaves his heart and soul on the mound.

One of the pitchers was in the locker room and joked: "Now, I can start on weekdays!" Great peer support there, too.

After we met again, I called the MJ's office and scheduled the surgery. You know what the secretary said to me?

"You will need to pay for it. Can you give me your credit card over the phone?"

Sheesh! Money again?

I replied: "Ma'm, I am in the car right now and the office manager told me that I can bring a check tomorrow. So, can you wait until the morning for the deposit?"

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Heck! This is nuts! Yes, you can have the surgery, but pay cash.

Ok, I don't carry thousands of dollars in my wallet. I also do not have a huge credit limit on my credit cards to avoid overspending, hence my cards are rejected at the end of the pay periods.

Honestly, I felt like a deadbeat.

"Mom, I will pay back every cent. I swear. I am also going to buy dad a pontoon boat (not sure what that is, but I hope that it fits in the garage)."

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Dude, don't worry. We save money in case of an emergency and this is one of those times that we hit the old nest egg. I then tried to teach him an important lesson. You can spend all of your money or some of it and try to save the rest. You never know when you will need MJ and thousands of dollars to pay for surgery. So, when you are struggling with whether to buy the $300.00 Beats headphones or $10.00 versions, you can bank the rest of the money and save it for a rainy day....and boy, it is pouring right now.

And so, the kid is headed for surgery in the morning. I have already put my check book into my pocketbook, otherwise the office pitbull will not let me in the front door.

Life is sweet, ain't it?


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