Hooray for low blood oxygen levels (?)

This week I'm simply going to launch, by utilizing a question, so hang on to something. What happens when a man, oh, say, Perpetual, (fiance), is working and falls from a ladder, slams into a windowsill, has to be rushed to the hospital, it's determined that he has multiple injuries and he can barely breathe?

I shall now give you the answer since I'm certain you have reached the abundantly curious stage, at this time. If said man happens to have one of the massive varieties of Blue Cross Blue Shield Insurance, what occurs is this. The BCBS morons decide that it might be a wonderful idea to ask that he be bounced out of said hospital after about 24 hours of care.

Yes, you read the above blather right. I never thought I'd say this but, thank goodness for low blood oxygen, as it was the deciding factor pertaining to his staying or going.

Now that I got that out of the way, here is what happened. I received a call from Perpetual on Monday, June 9, around 6 or so in the eve. He stated that he was hurt. I then inquired as to whether or not he was in the hospital. He said, “No, but I want you to take me.” (Side bar—and we all know how much I LIVE for all things side bar...Perpetual hasn't even seen a doc in the 11 blissful years of our ongoing partnership. Therefore, when he declared that he WANTED to seek a venue of health, I knew it was major.)

Well, I should have insisted that he call an ambulance but I was so stunned that I simply leaped into the van, not easily done as it's kind of tall, and zoomed over to the End of the Road region of quaint Linesville PA. My kid followed in the car. We were greeted by a man in white, gimping about slowly while clutching his rib area.

He fought me the whole way in terms of ambulance service. We had no clue if he had internal damage or not and I, being a logical thinker, felt that having a professional on hand would be better than having me in charge. I mean, can you imagine the absurdity of my thoughts on the matter? I'm a crazed lunatic, I realize.

Finally, I had had enough and simply blasted into the Harmonsburg Ambulance Service and found aid in the form of a Boy Scout leader. (They were getting ready for a meeting at that time.) To make a long story as long as possible, in order to fill this space, 911 was called, the siren went off directly over my head and, within seconds, the whole parking lot was filled with first responders. I've never in my days seen such service. It was, to borrow a phrase, poetry in motion.

Anyhow, the bottom line of the whole ordeal is that my darling Perpetual has: five broken ribs, a SHATTERED collarbone — not just the old run of the mill break but a shatter, mind you, and a small puncture in the lung.

With that being the diagnosis, BCBS had the total, not partial but, total, chutzpah to want to remove him, in a crumbled heap, from the care facility. I'm absolutely floored to the max, totally and all of my infamous phrases, by the whole operation, no pun.

As I said earlier in this captivating piece, the ONLY reason this man was given permission to stay on was due to his blood oxygen being low, presumably from the lack of air due to the lung being pierced.

A doctor spoke with me over the phone and he was as equally outraged. He said that if the insurance company wanted to, they could certainly arrive on site and care for him themselves.

The whole quagmire of insanity we call health insurance has morphed into something unrecognizable from its former self.

I recall, back in the days of my youth, when insurance was used for catastrophic events ONLY. One did not need to whip out a card, provide group numbers and, generally, leap through inner-tubes, (I'm sick of the overused, “through hoops”), just to casually visit the family doctor. Of course, in my youth, since it was 150 years ago, we simply plopped plucked poultry down on the counter as the office visit payment but, I digress as is my nature. Actually, this paragraph and the last are digressions so, I'm back in the swing.

Perpetual has been moved to the transitional building of MMC and is slowly, like a herd of turtles, recovering. I thought you might want to know the bottom line but, we don't have one yet. He continues to be on the oxygen, hence, he's still in the hospital.

Can you believe any of this? I bet you can, now that I ponder.

Well, what else can be splattered across this column space in terms of the whole insurance debacle of 2014? Nothing. Therefore, you are officially released from bondage and you may turn the page.