For all of you who prayed for my surgery yesterday, I thank you. But the surgery almost didn't happen. Since it did happen—and since it was completely from the mighty hand and outstretched arm of God that it did happen—I ought to give thanks to Him by explaining how it all went down.
So what happened was this. My surgery was scheduled for Thursday morning at 7:30 a.m. On Wednesday afternoon, however, I received a phone call from the Doctor's office explaining that they could not verify my insurance coverage. In fact, they said, my insurance policy had been cancelled since November. Odd, I thought. Because on Monday I had verified my coverage and even printed out a letter of proof of coverage to take to the doctor. Regardless, I had to figure this out, and pronto. It was 4:30 at this point. I was supposed to be checking into surgery at 6:00 a.m.
I do some scrounging around online and in my files and find out that my insurance company had threatened to drop me back in November due to non-payment of premiums. I thought this was especially strange considering I had signed up for auto-draft from my bank account. Even more so because my bank records showed a premium payment back in November. At this point, the reality is sinking in that my insurance carrier dropped my coverage without a cancellation notice or any attempts to collect overdue premiums. It's time to scramble.
So I call the insurance company's member services line, collect my documents to prove up my case, and hear this on the other end: "due to the Affordable Care Act, there are a high volume of callers. Your expected hold time is in excess of 60 minutes..." Thanks Obama? Regardless, I've got to wait it out; I need to talk to someone pronto. In the meantime, I convince the surgery center to bump me to the last surgery of the day (12:30) to give me some more time to get it all straightened out. That at least buys me a couple of more hours. Maybe a miracle will happen.
About three hours later, I finally talk to a real person. (I could probably sing to you the on-hold music from somewhere deep in my sub-conscious). I explain my story calmly and logically. "Ok, sir, I'm going to have to connect you to someone in Member Services. Please hold for a while longer." Please no. At this point, it's 7:30 p.m. and things are looking slim for tomorrow. I'm about to call it quits when someone picks up from member services. It's good news: the insurance company realizes they screwed up and shouldn't have cancelled me. If I pay my back premiums, they can re-issue coverage and I'll be good to go for surgery. At this point I'm ecstatic! Good to go. I pay up and head out to be with my parish, with assurances that I'll be approved for surgery first thing in the morning.
Morning comes, and I am ready for surgery. Only one hurdle remains: I need to call the doctor's office, and they need to get in touch with the insurance company to approve my coverage. Should be easy. So I call the doctor at 8:30 and they say they're on it; they will get back to me soon. Thinking this will be a fairly straightforward process, I start packing my bags. Then another phone call, which I think will be something along the lines of "Mr. Bryant, you've been approved. See you soon." Instead, it was "Mr. Bryant, we still can't get in touch with your insurance company. We're going to have to cancel the surgery." "I'm covered, I promise," I said. "Please, give it until 10:00." They agreed to give me a little leeway, which bought me some time. It's now 9:45, and I have no idea if I will be having surgery today.
Twenty minutes roll past, and I know this probably means bad news. But I get in my car and head to the surgery center anyways. I'm going to keep saying yes until someone tells me no. Halfway down Heights Blvd., however, the doctor's office calls and says they still can't get in touch with anyone at the insurance company; they have to cancel the surgery. I said that I understood why, and thanks for working with me until the last minute. Now I call my parents, who are already at the surgery center, and tell them the news. There's nothing I can do, so just come on home.
About five minutes later, the doctor's office calls again. This time it's good news: the surgery center was able to verify coverage with the insurance company! Come on down! So I turn it back around and wheel off to the surgery center. But when I get there, there's no such good news. The surgery center is actually still on hold with the insurance company and hasn't verified anything. They haven't even talked to a live person yet. Obamacare's jamming the system! Or so I tell myself...
So I sit down with the nice lady at the counter and see what we can do. She tells me that they are still on hold with the insurance company, but she believes what I told her about getting caught up on my premiums. I suggest we go ahead and do the surgery regardless, but she tells me to just be patient; they will keep trying up until game time.
That means another couple of hours of waiting, at the surgery center, not knowing if I will have surgery. I'm not trying to complain, and I wasn't complaining then, but sometimes I prefer certainty to uncertainty in things like this. But it was not so, and I was ok with that.
12:45 rolls around (I am scheduled for a 12:30 surgery), and still no word from the insurance company. The nice lady from the counter comes back and says "I believe you, and so do they upstairs. Your insurance company is being whack, so we are just going to worry about that later. We've never done this, but we got the administrator's approval to do the surgery without insurance authorization. Lets' go!" Well, she didn't have to tell me twice. So I went back to surgery as if nothing had ever gone wrong. And nothing did go wrong with surgery once I got there. The doctors and nurses were great, anesthesia was awesome, and my mom cooked some out-of-this world chicken and dumplings for dinner when I got home (which promptly made me sick because of the medicine, but it was totally worth it).
The real wonder in all of this is how God's hand was guiding everything during the confusion. As soon as I knew something was wrong, I also knew that God was preparing me to trust Him completely. That was my overarching prayer during the "unknown" 24 hours. Yes, I did want the surgery, and I surely prayed for God to work a miracle there, but ultimately, I wanted to trust His plan and purpose for this. Which is why, to me, it's kind of funny that there was so much back-and-forth about whether I was going to have the surgery or not. Yes. Wait, no. Yes! Turn around and come back! Oh, we don't know. You are scheduled in 15 minutes, but we still don't know. Ok. I get it, God. Trust you. I am, gladly.
When I tore my ACL (and split my meniscus in two), I had a hard time dealing with it. All my life I had been somewhat athletic, able to play most sports, and generally lived an active lifestyle. I took pride in that, too. Sinfully so. But a blown knee blew all that to bits. I had to face my self-idolatry, so to speak. In a real, physical sense, I idolized my body and its abilities. How Grecian of me.
The reality is that all of our bodies are deteriorating from the moment we are born. Injuries happen. People are born with physical deformities; that's the price of sin for all mankind. But the Bible promises that, through Christ's resurrection, we will have resurrected bodies as well. And these bodies will be perfect in every way, just as Christ is perfect. They will not break, nor deform, nor wither. They will share in the physical glories of Christ, and they will be everlasting bodies. So I shouldn't place my faith in my body as it is now. Even with a new ACL. It's still going to break. Instead, let us place our faith in Christ and the glorious, unbreakable bodies that await us. That's a reality, and a promise from our Creator. That we will be re-made—for good.
So thank you all for praying for my surgery; I am grateful for you. It was an interesting couple of days, but the Lord showed His might and power in how it all played out. I am thankful that I was able to have the surgery, but even if I wasn't, God is good, and someday I won't need surgery anyways.