Skip to main content

Chronicles of El Hubbo's Bionic Hip

Tomorrow is the Big Day!  El Hubbo heads under the knife to replace the first of what we foresee will be many of his joints.  He does not seem to appreciate my non-stop rendition of Mack The Knife, however, he does appear to be looking forward to some sort of pain relief.  I think he's truly looking forward to the two hours of uninterrupted, drug-assisted sleep - which is probably more than he's gotten in the past two years.

It has been touch-and-go with getting this done.  I almost declared it a no-go and told him he'd better cowgirl up when I got off the phone with the hospital's billing department.  They decided they would give me a "courtesy call" (at 9:30 p.m., mind you - I find nothing courteous about that time of the night).  In a far too chipper voice, the young lady, who shouted into the phone as I am sure she assumed I was 75+ and deaf (as most of her clientele and their spouses are), informed me that after insurance, etc, etc, I would be responsible for $XXXX and how would I like to take care of that?

I am barely capable of more than grunting at 9:30 p.m.  But, that sure enough woke me up.  I said, "WHAT????  HOW MUCH???? YOU WANT PAYMENT NOW????"  For half a second, I thought it might be a telephone scam.  I asked her if she could tell me what all that covered.  I grumbled about, tried to negotiate a discount, asked about payment plans, and basically dodged any financial commitment while I formulated a cost-savings plan.  I hung up with her and began my research.  El Hubbo came in the room and asked what I was doing awake.  I told him I was searching Pinterest for how to make him a hip.  He paled slightly.  I told him that based upon my extensive study of internet how-to videos that I was pretty sure I could put something together and possibly do this surgery here at home.  We could set up the folding tables in the garage on top of some painter's plastic, he could bring a saw from work - LET'S DO THIS!

His response?  "You frighten me."  He's refused to go to sleep before me ever since.  I've come to suspicion he's doping my tea at dinner.  My first clue was the morning I woke up with my face in my dinner plate.

Undeterred, I've sketched out a rope-and-pulley system to use instead of whatever traction system the hospital plans to charge me for.  And, I'm ready to keep copious notes and a list of every glove, Q-tip, hospital gown, etc. that is used to compare to the itemized statement from the hospital.  I'll take El Hubbo's vet kit as I'm sure I can create some sort of concoction to get him up and running down the hallways a lot cheaper than anything the hospital has.  I've signed El Hubbo up for a roomie to share expenses.  I will spring for someone to empty the bedpan, as there are some things one shouldn't cheap out on.

So, early in the mañana, we'll head to the hospital, where a major piece of El Hubbo's anatomy will be swapped out for a newer model.  He assures me he plans to take better care of this one, which is good as I have assured him he only gets one pro model - I've bookmarked the paper mache hip joint I found online and will be sharpening the saw for next time.

Wish him luck!


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Texas, Our Texas!

Fires, tornadoes, drought, and now a hurricane.  It has been a rough time for our Lone Star State. I felt like she needed a love letter. Early in the year, fires in the panhandle had trucks come up the highways and interstates providing assistance to panhandle families who had lost family, herds, fences, and feed. Now, in the wake of Harvey, those trucks have been turned around, and the Panhandle sends them back full to the coastal families who now find themselves in need.  (Our mamas taught us you never return a dish empty.)  Our hearts ache for our fellow Texans on the coast.  We know too well the feeling of loss.   Regardless of the challenges ahead of us, we Texans generally manage to rise to the occasion.  We don't have time to worry about those things that really don't matter.  We have a job to do.  I'm proud of my state and her residents.  Those of us who trace our lineage back to the very founding of this Great State have had...

Medical Sparring

My father.  The infamous Oso.  The Bear. Just as when one is dealing with his spirit animal, one should always proceed with caution with my paternal parental unit.  Not everyone is ready for his wit and charm, but doctors in particular seem to struggle with quite how to deal with the man. In Oso's not-so-humble opinion doctors are by-and-large "quacks".  The many years of medical training they have is bunk, and they have no idea what they are talking about.  He has stretched the patience of more than one member of the AMA, leading one to proclaim my father "the most non-compliant patient I have ever seen."  And, this particular doctor used to be a prison doctor!  That statement actually exists in a medical chart.  It also happen to provide my father with a peculiar point-of-pride.  In his mind, this meant he won. With mom's passing, I have inherited the dubious honor of accompanying my father to the more important doctor visits.  W...

Sometimes, Life Ain't Fair

I generally try to keep my blog relatively light-hearted.  I poke fun at myself and my loved ones because I think it helps to keep perspective.  Sometimes we take ourselves too seriously, and we just need a reminder that life is pretty good in the grand scheme of things. But sometimes, life ain't fair. What follows is an honest, heart-felt post.  It will not be easy to read at times.  Consider yourself warned.  There are no such things as safe spaces in my world. Few outside of an FFA or 4H program understand "why" we show livestock.   Sadly, the concept of raising livestock, having any kind of inkling or understanding of how and where one's food comes from (besides the grocery store) is foreign to most, even some of you who follow this blog.  (I love you anyway, but sometimes I worry about you.) There is a fascination with our lifestyle, and I generally become the defacto ag teacher in work meetings as I explain what my kids were doing in rece...