I swear a had a non-surgery post before I heard this.

My dad's surgery has been canceled. The hospital doesn't take their insurance. They said he can still have the surgery if my parents pay them $80,000. HA. Sooo... no surgery at that hospital. His surgeon works out of another hospital, so they're trying to see if it takes their insurance. If yes, they can probably schedule for early April. If not, he has to find a new surgeon. Most likely in a different city, because that town only has two hospitals to begin with. Which means that the commute from the farm to the hospital would be well over 2 hours. Its already an hour to the original hospital anyway. WHY did the hospital not realize this any earlier than THREE DAYS before the surgery?? We've had this scheduled for how long?? I'm so upset about it. I know he'll eventually have the surgery, but this whole situation is so stupid... we've all prepped for Monday, are ready for Monday, and its a bit of a let down to not have it happen. I feel like I'm back to the tenseness of waiting, waiting, waiting. I want to fly to my parents' defense, but throw something at the Big Mean Hospital and Insurance Company at the same time. And I can't do ANYTHING about this, which makes it worse. I'm so frustrated, and I feel like I don't really have any way to take it out. I have to be calm and collected for my parents, because this is far harder on them than me, but then all I do is take it out on me, and that's not good either. I think I'm going to take my iPod and go for a short, angry run tonight, which will last all of 30 seconds since I HATE running, and then walk off the steam. I'll milk the anger for all its worth, because it keeps me from getting worried. Worry is debilitating when taken to some levels. So is anger, but my anger never really reaches there. Worry? Easily, if I let it.

I need a hug.

I swear I had a nice, funny, non-surgery post written before Mom called with this news. Sorry, all 3 or so readers I have. One day, I'll actually write something that will entertain you. I promise. Until then, remember my new motto: Save a Patient; Kill an Insurance Executive.