Tune In Tomorrow

In May I was invited to take part in a television show titled "Health Heroes." The show was going to highlight bionic prosthetic devices and the positive impact that they can have on an amputee's life. I was honored to be included in this project!

Typical for me, I was nervous and insecure before the filming. Scott tried to surprise me with a hair make-over. Unfortunately the stylist crafted what rates as one of the worst hair cuts I've ever worn. There was nothing I could do but smile as I was filmed with the horrific helmet-inspired hairdo.

We traveled to Philadelphia in May for the filming, but I haven't heard much information about the program until a few days ago. I am excited to announce that my episode of Health Heroes is scheduled to air on the Discovery channel at 7:00 AM this Friday. If you are up that early, grab a mug of coffee and a doughnut (or two) and tune in. (I realize that the channel guide may state "paid programming" during this time slot, I have been assured that the Health Heroes show will be airing, not a Ron Popeil cooking demonstration.)

I have been hesitant to reveal this air date after the debacle from the National Geographic Show when I was told my segment was going to be featured and learned that I had been cut only after the show aired. I was promised that I have not been cut from this program, and that my segment will air.

Seeing myself on film is never a comfortable experience for me. I become my worst critic, over analyzing every movement I made and word I uttered. I am particularly nervous with this show because I remember how horrendous my hair looked. I'm hoping that I don't look foolish because my intent was to use this opportunity to represent the amputee community in a positive light. I don't know if I was successful, but I tried!

I Hate Kindergarten!!

Robby had his first visit to the school nurse on Monday. After complaining to his teacher of a sore throat, hurt tummy and "farting ears," they took his temperature. It turns out that he had a fever of 102.3.

I picked him up from school and immediately called his pediatrician. Thankfully, his doctor was able to fit him into her schedule. Robby's strep test was positive (again) and both of his ears were infected (again)! This is his third bout with both ailments in seven weeks. Add his double pneumonia from 10 days ago and we have had our fill of illnesses!

I am putting the blame for the seemingly infinite number of infections on Kindergarten. Robby was rarely sick before he started school. The fact that he had gone through the first five years of his life without an ear infection I carried as a badge of honor. He was a healthy and happy little boy.

We have been fighting coughs, ear infections, vomiting and boogie invasions since the first week of school. I've begun to dread his finishing an antibiotic cycle because it simply signals that another illness will be visiting soon. At this rate, his memories of Kindergarten are going to be set in his pediatrician's office or from waiting in line at the pharmacy.

Robby is now on another antibiotic and is already rebounding. I debated whether or not he should go to school today, but I have opted to send him. His class is carving pumpkins for Halloween. I know that he would be devastated if he missed this fun activity, and I want him to have at least one fun memory from his Kindergarten year!

Welcome Home Erin!

Yesterday was a special day in our little neighborhood. Our neighbor's daughter, Erin, finally came home after serving as a physician in Afghanistan for the past six months. We have all worried about Erin and have been anxiously awaiting her safe return.

During Erin's deployment her parents took custody of her beloved bulldog, Reese. Robby, of course, was thrilled that a puppy moved next door. In reality Reese is not a puppy and is not terribly energetic, both facts apparently being inconsequential to an animal loving five year old. He told Erin that he would help take care of Reese, and he took his responsibility seriously!

Robby and Reese have spent hours wandering between our two yards throughout the summer. Determined to teach the lethargic canine a trick, Robby was delighted when he finally "taught" Reese to run. This was achieved only through Robby keeping a bacon flavored dog treat in his pocket and running in front of Reese. (She stopped running as soon as she received the treat.)

While the whole neighborhood was eager to welcome Erin home, Robby was especially excited. He asked if we could put out balloons and make a sign. If nothing else, my son loves a party!

Five rolls of red, blue and yellow crepe paper ribbon were carefully strewn among the trees and fences on our street. It took him nearly 90 minutes, but our neighbor's yard, Mr. Bill's fence, and the mailboxes were appropriately decorated. It looked festive and patriotic, at least everything below four feet--the height of his vertical reach!

Erin came home yesterday, and it wasn't long before we were all standing in the driveway to say hello. Unfortunately Robby wasn't able to welcome her home. He was in bed, sick from a recurrent double ear infection and strep throat. I don't know which made him sadder, being sick or not being able to see Erin!

Hallway Laps

Last week while scavenging through one of three of my kitchen junk drawers, I discovered my long lost pedometer. I tried to remember the last time I wore the pedometer, which was most certainly before Robby was born. I began to contemplate how many miles I walk everyday.

The next morning with the pedometer still sitting on my counter, I decided to satisfy my curiosity. Since it was raining outside, I knew that my walking was going to be limited to indoors, but I figured it would be interesting little project. After changing the batteries and recalibrating, a task which should have taken two minutes but ended up taking nearly twenty, I clipped the little counter onto my waistband and started my day.

Perhaps because I was wearing the pedometer I was more cognizant of my movements throughout the day. I was shocked at how many times I walked up and down our hallway traversing between the bedrooms and living room. It seemed like every time I made it to the kitchen or sat down in the living room, I was being called. I was beginning to think that a secret closed-circuit camera system must have been installed so that Robby and Scott knew when I was taking a moment to relax!

Seemingly every time I tried to sit down, I was beckoned by the squawking of my boys. When "Momom, I need you" wasn't echoing through the house, I was hearing, "Peggy! Come here!" from Scott. The reasons for the screaming ranged from "I don't like this cartoon" to "The phone is ringing." Did they really need me for either of those issues? I have one leg, yet I seem to be the only one in this house who is capable of walking down the hall to communicate!

At night after I tucked Robby into bed, I unclipped the pedometer and checked out my results. Without walking outside, and without changing my routine, I walked a whopping 12,129 steps. Considering that each mile consists of 2000 steps, I walked over 6 miles!

6 miles walking up and down my hallway, responding to the seemingly incessant inconsequential requests from the boys. No wonder I'm tired by the end of the day! I think I'm going to invest in a pair of headphones, and institute a new family walking program so I'm not the only one going up and down the hallway.

Closure Needed

It is always painful when a friendship comes to an end. Perhaps it is more distressing when closure has been sought but not provided. I think that this is a situation that everybody encounters at some point, but the grief and pain is probably felt more deeply by women. It is not a comfortable state of mind.

I am currently licking my wounds over an ended friendship. In reality, I've known that the friendship has been over for some time. We never had a fight, at least not one in which I participated. Obviously something occurred, but I am at a loss to provide the reason. In any case, my attempts at communication were rebuffed, and after several months I have been able to read the signs.

Confrontation does not come easy for me. In fact, I tend to avoid negative conversations at all costs. That being said, a few months ago I gathered my gumption and wrote an email to my lost friend. I was forthright, acknowledging that the friendship had obviously changed and asking for closure by requesting an explanation for the sudden and drastic change. The email was difficult for me to write. I was disappointed and hurt when I received no reply. In all honesty, I felt that I deserved the courtesy of a response.

I grew tired of feigning friendships on Facebook when obviously there was no relationship. The occasional comments written on a photo or status message only served to reignite my distress over the lost friendship. The connection had become toxic, and I knew I needed to sever ties.

I would be lying if I said I didn't harbor ill-will. I am not angry because the friendship changed and ended. After all, relationships are fluid and are forever adapting. I am resentful because I was denied the courtesy of a reply when I reached out. Ignoring my communication was cowardly. Knowing that I deserve better made hitting the "remove friend" button a little less painful. I'm still a little sad.

My Leg Talk

Yesterday was "Show and Share" day at Robby's school. All students were asked to bring in something from home that helps them. Robby's teacher also invited me to speak to the class about my prosthetic because, keeping with the theme, it helps me. (We have tried to schedule this lesson several times, but it had never materialized due to Robby's illness.)

Scott and I have been talking with Robby about what he wanted to share for the past few days. Despite our suggestions, he never made up his mind. We had a minor spat in the morning when he informed me that he was taking Mr. Bill to school. His logic--Mr. Bill helps him build things. I tried to explain that he needed to bring something, not someone to school. The technicality seemed to be lost on him. I stood firm and he finally conceded, opting to take his guitar instead.

I dropped Robby and his guitar off at school, knowing that I was going to be returning an hour later for my leg lesson. I didn't have a prepared speech because I figured it was best to wing it. After all, I'm used to explaining my prosthetic. In retrospect, I should have invested more time in my preparation.

When I entered the classroom all of the students were sitting in rows in their little blue chairs. My first impression was how Robby looked so cute sitting in the front row. It was also glaringly obvious that he is at least three inches taller than all of his classmates, but I suppose that is a topic for a different blog.

I began my presentation with my usual explanation. I simply told the children that my leg was hurt and that the doctors tried to fix it. They realized that they couldn't fix it anymore so they gave me a new one. I then took off my prosthetic and explained that my leg didn't hurt anymore. Typically this suffices.

Robby's class is anything but typical. I was quickly peppered with questions from a group of enthralled Kindergartners who had left their seats and were standing around me. "What happened to the foot after they took it off?" "Are worms eating the toes?" "Do I worry that my dog will dig up my foot and run with it?" Robby chimed in with "we don't have a dog, we only have two cats. They don't eat bones." His classmates accepted this explanation and sat down.

A little girl raised her hand and asked me where I got my leg. I explained that I go to somebody who builds me legs and he is called a prosthetist. She informed me that I was wrong, because only God can make legs. I explained by saying, "God made my first two legs, but Mr. Elliot makes my prosthetic leg." She looked impressed and then uttered, "Wow, Mr. Elliot can make more legs than God. Cool." The students then proceeded to engage in a lengthy discussion about God vs. Mr. Elliot, with the verdict in the prosthetists favor. Apparently the fact that Elliot can manufacturer as many legs as I want in a variety of colors and designs was the tipping point for the debate. I really wish I could be a fly on the wall during her next Sunday school class!

Typically I don't remove my liner during presentation. The sight of my residual limb can be off putting, especially for an unprepared child. Finally, with the kids begging to see my leg and Robby pulling off my liner, I agreed.

Seeing the actual limb, without wearing the liner, seemed to make the most impression on the kids. They were able to connect where my leg stopped and my prosthetic began. Most were cautious and respectful around my leg. I told them that they could touch the bottom of my leg but warned them to be gentle. Robby hovered around me, acting as an unofficial body guard.

One little boy, named Blake, made a fatal error during my presentation. He walked up to me, looked at my residual limb and began to belly laugh. His teacher scolded him, but he continued to laugh and began to point.

Robby apparently took Blake's laughing as a personal attack on me. In a flash he pushed his little classmate to the ground. He stood towering over him and warned, "Don't laugh at Momom." As if on cue, Robby's friend Nick joined the crusade by kicking the little boy in the bum while chiming in "Yeah, don't laugh at Robby's Mommy." The teacher separated the boys and I wrapped up my lesson.

I don't condone Robby's behavior, but I would be lying if I didn't admit that part of me was proud of him. In his eyes he was simply defending me. I love that he wants to stick up for me, and that he has friends who will rally behind him. That being said, I would rather he use his voice rather than brute force.

My Kindergarten presentation was nothing like I was anticipating. The question/ answer session turned into an inquisition based on theology. Follow that with the smack down by Robby and his wing man, and I was ready to go home. At least I have a year to work on my presentation; I've heard first graders can be brutal!

Insurance Overload

During the past few weeks I have been eating, drinking, and dreaming all things related to prosthetic insurance. To say that I feel overwhelmed is an understatement. I'm doing my best to absorb as much information as possible.

Every night, when I feel discouraged I congratulate myself for knowing more about the topic than I did when I woke up. I remember feeling this lost when I first began to learn Braille. With practice and time, the code made sense and is now second nature for me. I'm hoping that I can experience the same success deciphering the insurance red tape obstacle course!

Many times my head feels like it is spinning with all of the new information I am trying to process. At the same time, I find myself feeling sad. I never realized how much of an amputee's prosthetic care was dictated by the insurance policy!

While many policies now provide provisions for bionic technology (C-leg, Rheo knee and Proprio foot, etc.), the inclusion does not necessarily mean that the amputee will receive the device. The pesky "when medically necessary" rider in all policies often precludes amputees from gaining access to these life changing devices. Because of this stipulation, amputees need to know that their initial insurance claim for a bionic device will almost certainly be denied, prompting an appeal.

During the appeal the patient and the practitioner must prove why the desired prosthetic device is required. Proving medical necessity is a time consuming task, and many practitioners are not willing to invest their staffing resources towards this effort. Therefore, many amputees are forced to settle for an "almost-as-good" prosthetic.

A willingness to fight the appeal is not the only variable to secure success. I learned that appeals can go to one of two places, depending upon the type of insurance. The optimum route is having the final appeal decided by the state insurance board of appeals. This options provides for the most unbiased ruling and affords the amputee the best chances for having the claim approved.

Unfortunately a majority of insurance plans in this country are employer based plans, referred to as an ERISA policy. These plans are most commonly offered by companies with more than 100 employees. My husband works for a school system in Virginia. Our insurance is Blue Cross and Blue Shield, but it is an ERISA based plan.

Why is this information important? Because in an ERISA based plan, the final insurance appeal goes directly to the employer, not to the state insurance board. The employer decides what is covered and what is not going to be covered because they are the direct payer. The insurance company is merely acting as the middle man during the claim process.

With an ERISA based plan, the amputee's prosthetic decisions are relegated to nothing more than a simple popularity contest. If the individual, or somebody in their family, has clout within the organization, there is a good chance of having the appeal granted. If they are simply another employee without political ties within the company, the chances of having their claim approved may be greatly diminished--regardless of how hardworking the individual or how necessary the device.

There is no greater time in history to be an amputee. Prosthetic technology stands to change the quality of life for scores of individuals who have been struggling with limb loss. Unfortunately, the reality remains that this technology remains elusive for so many. It is heartbreaking to realize how many amputees are denied access to these life changing prosthetics because of riders in insurance policies and a popularity contest at their place of employment.