Monday, February 27, 2012


I know I don't post often, but I had to give y'all a little update.

Last Sunday, we went to spend the afternoon with my dad and step-mom. They have a ranch-style house with a full basement that you access through an open stairwell. (AKA, there's no door to the basement or anything). Most of the night was spent making sure Bubbers didn't fall down the stairs.

I was sitting in a chair about 6-8 feet away from the stairs, and Logan came scarily close to tumbling. I went to get out of the chair to run after him, and I almost couldn't get up. I am so fat that I can't even get my ass up and moving in an emergency! Luckily, the kid got "shiny object"-ed and headed the other way, but the damage (to me) was done.

As we left that night, I told The Hubs that I couldn't wait anymore and that we needed to move forward with band surgery. I can't bare the thought of something happening to Bubs because I'm too fat to save him from danger. Because my husband is awesome, he agreed, and told me to call the doctor's office the next day to get the process rolling.

Monday, I called to find out what my options were for paying for the surgery. 1) Insurance. A no-can-do, as my miserly insurance plan barely covers doctor's appointments. Medical weight loss programs or surgeries are very clearly an exception to my plan. Even when the patient has weight-related medical issues, like I do.

Option 2) Self-pay. We have about $17 in our savings account and our credit cards are almost maxed out, since that's generally what we were living on when The Hubs was out of work. Cash, checks or credit cards would get us laughed out of the office.

Option 3) Financing. This was the route that we had already planned to go, knowing that Options 1 and 2 weren't really options at all. The doctor's office that I was planning on using charges $11,900 total for all aspects of the surgery and two years of aftercare. I called Monday, fully expecting to get approved for financing, but jointly, we were only able to get approved for $2,000. Granted, math is not my strong point, but even I can tell you that $2,000 is a far cry from $12,000. I called a couple days later to see if I could get an increase, and I'm pretty sure the lady on the phone tried to stifle a laugh.

A personal loan isn't an option, and I even went so far as to ask my dad if they could get a loan for me. No can do.

The major reason I want to have the surgery now is so that I can lose enough weight to not have a high-risk pregnancy when we try to give Bubs a brother or sister. He's over a year old now, and I'm turning 30 this year. Time is running out, y'all. We don't have time to save up $12,000, and if we did, we should use that money for a down payment on a house.

I may or may not have had a breakdown after getting the phone call from my dad that they couldn't help. Just the day before, surgery was a real, palpable option. I was so excited that it was finally going to happen and I was going to get to start living my life and be there for my son. And now, there are literally NO options. No choices, no chances.

It's gone. And not to sound melodramatic, but I honestly and truthfully feel like hope is gone with it.