Goodbye HRA, Hello Payment Plan

Have you ever been sitting in the doctor’s office and felt like you could hear the sound of money running out of your checking account? I felt that way this morning. And, for once, it wasn’t in our pediatrician’s office. This was actually a visit for Mommy…..with a cardiologist…..that included a ‘to-go’ monitor. Now are you hearing those cha-chings?

You see, a few months ago I started having some weird symptoms but since I tend to second guess myself {and like to see just how high I can bank my HRA}, I blew them off until it got to be too much. When you’re driving down the interstate and start to feel like you might black out, it’s probably time to get checked. Or so says my husband.

So, a couple of days before Christmas, I went in and saw a family practice physician. We ran through my symptoms – heart palpitations, lightheadedness, difficulty breathing. We talked through some of it because I had convinced myself that it was anxiety {and am still wondering if I’m right – in which case I might ask for a refund and enroll in medical school}. Anyway, he wanted to be safe and hooked me up to the EKG machine. The results showed some arrhythmia which I’m told would explain some of my symptoms. The next step was to get a referral to a cardiologist. {insert dark music}

A week later I met with a cardio guy {with the first name of Yogi – how I made it through without asking where Boo-Boo was remains a mystery}. We went through the same set of questions only he wanted to know more. I thought I’d log this conversation because it was comical to me. Granted, this may have been a ‘you had to have been there’ moment but whatever. It’s my blog and I’ll laugh alone if I wanna.

Dr. H: Hello Mrs. Darnell. I’m Yogi ________.
Me: {ahem} Nice to meet you.
Dr. H: Tell me what’s been going on.
Me: {Read above – not him, YOU}
Dr. H: And how long has this been going on?
Me: {Also above if you’re paying attention}
Dr. H: Let’s talk about your everyday. Do you smoke?
Me: Nope.
Dr. H: Drink?
Me: Would that help?
Dr. H : Do you have children?
Me: Yes.
Dr. H: How many?
Me: Three boys.
Dr. H: Well, we can stop right there. That can explain anyone’s problems away. Now let’s move on to family history. Any heart problems for Mom?
Me: I don’t know. We don’t talk much.
Dr. H: Dad?
Me: I don’t know. We’ve never talked.
Dr. H: Grandparents?
Me: Dead
Dr. H: Alright then. This conversation is going well.

I’ll give it to the guy. Ole’ Yogi has a sense of humor which I don’t see all that often in this profession. He did a little examination but it doesn’t help much when these palpitations that seem to trigger the other symptoms are not an everyday occurrence. Because of that, he sent me home with a 48-hour Holter monitor that I could not take off. Not even to shower which was just gross. However, they did tell me that I could ‘sponge bath.’ Right. And how exactly does one do that and actually feel clean?

Oh and the best part about my little electronic friend? He came in a….wait for it…..FANNY PACK. I wore a flippin’ fanny pack for 2 days {working days, I might add}. Um, hello? The last time I wore a fanny pack was in the 4th grade, it was pink and Joey McIntyre’s face was on the front of it. This, my friends, was not that cool….and I’m not nine years old. On the other hand, I knew that if I didn’t wear it, I would have ultimately owned it from dropping it in the toilet. Conformity at its best.

Fast forward three weeks. After I wore that dumb monitor, all along trying to hide the ridiculousness of its carrying case, wouldn’t you know, I didn’t experience one ‘episode.’ Naturally. So I went back in this morning for the results to which I was not surprised at all. They saw a few skipped beats but nothing to be concerned over. I told him that the episodes are so random and I can’t correlate it with anything but to say that they just come and go. I actually expected him to tell me that I was cuckoo and that I just need to simplify my life and relax. For the record, that feedback wouldn’t have gone over well as my million-dollar-diagnosis because how exactly does one just wake up and choose that path?

Instead, he informed me that we had to keep digging for the answer and that would require – you guessed it – another monitor. Only this one stays on for a month. And, according to the technician that suited me up, it transmits directly to the company who then will call me if they receive a ‘bad’ signal at which time they’ll tell me to go to the ER or call my doctor. As much as I want to get to the bottom of this issue, I’m not looking for one of those phone calls. I mean, who wants to hear, ‘Hello, Mrs. Darnell? This is ABC Heart Monitor Company. You’re about to have a heart attack/stroke/aneurysm. Please proceed to the nearest hospital.’ Just sayin.’ Send me an email, Toots.

Now, before you start thinking of how nasty my pits will smell from the 30-day timeframe, I will have you know that I can remove this contraption for a quick shower. That was definitely a deal breaker. And, although this monitor isn’t strapped to a string around my waist, it is riding in a holster-type carrier that makes me feel like I should be able to draw it out like a gun and taze someone. Seriously, in this day and age, can they design a monitor that is not as big as a 1998 cell phone strapped to my belt loop? I’ll add that to my comments and suggestions when I ship this bad boy back.

Don’t get me wrong – I know it could be worse. We’re not talking hospital bills, just physician and diagnostic charges, but those alone are probably going to run the same as a year’s worth of car payments….except I don’t get a new car, just a monthly invoice with Yogi’s name on it.

And since I’m turning my glass over, I’m going to reflect on the fact that we have not graced the doors of the pediatrician since May {with the exception of a round of flu shots}. So far, our little people have managed to avoid the typical stomach bug and strep throat mess. In my opinion, we’ve had our fair share for the last seven straight years. We were due a break.

So, all in all, I can’t complain….except I just did about 72 times, huh? It’s not me, it’s Manny the Monitor.