Hospital yet again.

The following letter was written in October 1989 to a penfriend in Cottage Hills, Illinois. It outlines some of the exasperation in dealing with the medical business world. This sequence of letters begins in previous blog entries.

I'm still not back to work, but I feel pretty good right now. I was scheduled to go to the hospital last Monday and they cancelled. I didn't find out until I got there. I had a plastic bag with a robe, books and other things and all was for naught. I was rather miffed because State Disability (New Jersey) doesn't pay full salary and I'll have to wait another two weeks before they check out my other kidney.

Dr. Grasso, a four-year resident, was in surgery at the time, so I waited until I got home to call him. He was very apologetic but explained that Peggy, Dr. Bagley's secretary, had failed to schedule a perc tube surgery, whatever that means, and it threw everything out of whack. They won't be able to do it for another two weeks. I'd like to take the insurance money they're supposed to get, and run off with it! As it was, I already sent them a hefty sum, relaying it to them from Insurance.

They charge an arm and a leg for these surgeries: Nephroscopy $2400, Lithotripsy $2400. Blue Cross/Blue Shield paid $1410 of the $2400 bill and Major Medical paid $212. That leaves a pretty big chunk for me to work on.

To make matters a little more exasperating, I gave the Disability form to the doctor's office for them to fill out. A secretary (not Peggy) took it, telling me that both Dr. Grasso and Dr. Bagley were out of the country; they'd be back Tuesday. So the following week I called Peggy about the form. She looked high and low and couldn't find it. I had given it to Cass but still it was not found. I always thought Cass was a bit confused at her job. Great! Now I'll have to get a delayed payment sometime! I wasn't too happy.

As it happened, I had an appointment with another doctor in the same hospital so I went to Urology to find out about the disability form. Maybe I'd jog a couple memories if I'd show my face. As soon as I came in the door someone, without explanation, told me to go see Camille in the Billing Office just down the hall. After finding out who Camille was, I told her I gave a disability form to Cass at the front desk and no one knows hide nor hair of its whereabouts. I explained to Camille that I gave it on a Friday and both doctors were not available at the time—they'd be back on Tuesday. Her face brightened and she said, "I'll bet they put it on Dr. Bagley's desk," and she disappeared down the hall. She came back with the elusive paper in her hand. Bless her!
I found out SHE is the one who is supposed to fill them out, and she filled it out on the spot. I noticed my file was up on the computer and the two $2400 bills were on the screen. I told Camille that she already should have received $1410. She asked if Major Medical paid yet, and I said yes, about $200, and I had just sent it that day. She told me then that when they get it they'll make an adjustment on the bill.

I am convinced that doctors purposely inflate their bills to make sure they can get all that's due them from Insurance. I got that distinct impression when talking to Anesthesia Billing. Insurance told me that they pay the going price for doctors' services but they can't be paying the entire bill, no matter how good the insurance policy is. I brought up the subject with Anesthesia and they said I could write a letter and they'd send it to each doctor involved. There are four Anesthesia bills.

Now today I was told to go to Dr. Bagley's office. I had already had pre-admission testing done last Friday, so I didn't know what they were going to do now. A medical student went over my present condition rather thoroughly. He said my medical history read like a novel. Dr. Grasso had said the same thing when I first met him.

Afterwards there was a discussion with Peggy and Dr. Grasso whether I should have SMA-6 or 12 lab work done. Radiology wanted my blood but Pre-Admission already took some last week. I waited around for the medical student to finish writing the results of his examination so Peggy could give me a lab order.

When they finally finished, Peggy gave me an envelope and told me to go down to Pre-Admission Testing. I didn't know what the heck was going on but I went. I told Pre- that I had had testing done the week before. Then it was their turn to wonder what was going on. Finally, I was called to the desk and told that I could go now—everything was in order. Wait a minute, I said. I was under the impression I was supposed to have blood drawn. I called Peggy. Peggy told me to have them call 6440. Bewildered, they did. They found out Radiology wanted me to come there to the fifth floor. I then went to Radiology and they took three vials of blood. I asked if they had vampires somewhere they needed to feed.

That finished, I headed for the door. They stopped me with instructions. "You are scheduled for surgery the same day you are admitted, October 23. We want you here in Radiology at 8:00 sharp—no matter what the hospital tells you. Even if Central Scheduling doesn't call, be here. We'll have a bed available by the time you need it. If they do tell you to come in at any certain time, ignore it. Be here at 8:00." She was rather adamant about it. I believe Dr. Grasso had rolled a few heads at the mistake of the previous week and she was just repeating his demands to clarify intent.

After I left I went back to Urology. I spoke to Peggy, "Is there anything else while I'm here?" She just smiled and shook her head, "No, that's all." She seemed to be on the edge of weariness. That department is awful busy and even Dr. Grasso had been making wise-crack remarks, a sign that he was tired.

I'm sorry to hear about your sister. Achalasia is nothing to trifle with. Our former music director had it and he had to go through grueling procedures to keep his esophagus open. Apparently it wasn't at the dysphagia stage yet. He found a doctor at Zurbrugg Hospital in Burlington County (NJ) who was familiar with the disease. I read an article a few years ago which pointed out that one of the causes may be nervous tension, and he certainly was the type of person to have nervous tension.

In deference to your sister's condition, there are so many causes for diseases. However, I am convinced that many illness are induced by a person's frame of mind. The mind is a powerful and mysterious part of a person's makeup, and so may incidences can create a change in a person just by thought, attitude, or demeanor. My cousin lost her daughter in a boating accident and she got cancer from the stress. The same thing happened to another acquaintence of mine.

Do you ever wonder how faith healers can be apparently successful? Psychosomatic illnesses induced by the mind and are so common that the trust a person has in what that faith healer says can bring about a change in that person on a wide scale. A feeling of hope and trust works wonders. However, I don't take stock in everything faith healers claim. Stretching the facts is easy when you have a following that would believe in every word you say.

Jim Bakker is a case in point. His defense attorney gathered as many character witnesses as he could to ascertain the justification of Bakker's actions. According to them, he could walk on water. It was evident that these people saw nothing wrong in spite of what the media had spelled out. And Bakker did have the power to persuade. He is gifted that way. Even on the witness stand he confidently pointed out his heavenly calling to the jury. They being of the Christian faith, came to the conclusion that indeed Bakker may have been called by God to this minstry, but the ready availability of all that wealth that was accumulated clouded his direction.

In a way, there is some redeeming side to the whole affair. People felt good watching the show. They loved Jim and Tammy. No doubt about it, there was a certain aura of good feeling that gave people hope in their perhaps-dismal circumstances, and therefore they trusted them. Swaggart, Falwell, Roberts, Robertson, and a host of others have a large following because they know how to manipulate, whether for good or bad. People trust them. But some betrayed that trust: Bakker fell, Swaggart fell, Roberts became a little outlandish in his claims, Robertson made a fool of himself, and skeletons in the closet popped up all over the place. Religion is too sensitive an issue to be used as a forum for power and wealth.

Just recently [in 1989] there was an article in the Philadelphia Inquirer about a Soviet TV personality who has an apparent power to heal—Anatoly Kashpirovsky. He is idolized by millions and he performs miracles for people via television. I have a tendency to believe much of that. Like I said, the power of the mind can alter a person's outlook, and even health. It is a God-given ability of man to heal himself under countless circumstances.

However, there are also cases where people get better from illnesses that cannot be cured. FOr some reason the malady disappears. Chalk it up to prayer, faith, believing, or direct intervention from God, such happenings puzzle doctors, families and friends alike.

As a kid I had surgery several times by the time I was four years old. I developed a deadly fear of ether. In fact, one time I was put to sleep and my throat constricted that I couldn't breathe. The doctors had to give me a tracheotomy to save my life. After that, I went into sheer panic every time I smelled ether or alcohol, all the way to the age of 21. For some reason, the phobia left me and now I am not bother by it anymore. The only reason I can think of is that I finally came to a greater realization and purpose in my life and such things didn't have a hold on me anymore. Now if I can get rid of some other phobias...

I used to take pictures of fall foliage. Some pictures turn out pretty nice and one day someone asked me to come up to northern Maine and to bring my camera. He even paid the airfare from Philadelphia to Presque Isle, Maine via Boston. I then went all over Aroostook County, taking pictures of trees and potato farms. I saw only a few pictures but I don't know what he did with them. I never kept any of them.

Another year I drove 1300 miles in four day, all over New England, looking for the fall foliage. It was late in coming that year. Massachusetts was as green as summer and Connecticut was a bit disappointing, except for the pumpkin patches. I visited Mark Twain's house in Hartford, Connecticut before I went farther north. The autumn line ws around Franconia Notch, New Hampshire. I was traveling through there during the week hours of the morning before the sun came up so I just kept going—all the way into Canada. By that time I was too high in latitude for fall foliage so I went to visit a friend of mine in Lacolle, Quebec, and he wasn't even home, so I came back. I found the best foliage shots in the Pocono Mountains in Pennsylvania, practically in my back yard!

I hope to be back to work by November [1989]. This "vacation" isn't helping me any. I should go down to the beach, to the casinos, or to Pennsylvania Dutch country, but I'm low in funds right now. I just took stock of my financial situation. If my outgo keeps exceeding my income, the upkeep could be my downfall. Fortunately, I'm living with my kid brother [David] right now. He has a better job than I do. He pitches in his share and then some at times. His computer helps marvelously in figuring out where I stand.