Guess what! The battle with the insurance company is over! I’m going to San Antonio!

    That probably doesn’t make much sense, and to fully explain the whole situation would take hours and I really need to get to sleep. So I’ll sum up as best I can. I could have had surgery at a local military hospital ages ago without any hassle from any insurance companies. However, that was impossible given where I live, because the military hospitals in my area cannot take dependent children because they’re too overrun with casualties from Iraq. I understood that, and while it was disappointing, I didn’t hold it against them. Thus ensued the infamous battle with my two insurance companies. Blue Cross Blue Shield flat out refused to pay for anything, regardless of the fact we have established that I have a fatal disease and am rapidly getting worse. Tricare (the Military insurance company) was trying really hard to work the system so that they could legally pay for me to have surgery at Johns Hopkins, but it was taking them a really long time due to all sorts of legal technicalities. They were trying, but it was just taking far too long as I continued to get worse and worse. I thought I was doomed.

    Then someone, I don’t know who, realized that if only I could go to another military hospital, none of this would be necessary. It’d be just as if I had gone to a military hospital near my own home. Then everything deemed necessary by my military doctor would be paid for without any questions or hesitations. So a few weeks ago, we started calling other military bases. We found the few who had plastic surgery departments with the capability to treat me – all of three hospitals – and started begging them to take me. Tricare also was fabulous at begging and begging them, knowing this would get me into surgery faster than them continuing to finagle money for me to go to Johns Hopkins. (Confused yet?)

    One of those hospitals we still haven’t been able to get in contact with. Another one refused to take me because they felt they were too unfamiliar with Dercum’s Disease, and thus didn’t feel like treating me. Big surprise, like anyone’s going to familiar with Dercum’s Disease, and who cares? All I need is liposuction, simple liposuction. I was getting frustrated. Crying ensued. Again, I felt doomed.

    Then today, I get a glorious call. From glorious Texas. Wilford Hall Medical Center at Lackland Air Force Base in San Antonio, Texas has decided they’re man enough to take on the challenge of treating me and my weirdo disease. Better yet, they’re rushing me into their system. I’m flying there next Monday for an initial appointment with my new sparkly Plastic Surgeon on Thursday. He’s going to check me out, make sure it’s safe and okay to operate on me, and then rush me into surgery as soon as possible.

    Isn’t Texas grand? I love Texas all the more now, know why? Because thanks to them and their amazing nerve, I will have a better shot at not dying. So hooray for the military, hooray for the brave doctors at Lackland AFB, and a big huge hooray for Texas!