I have taken up space on High Plains Blogger singing the praises of the care I had received from the Department of Veterans Affairs and to be sure I don’t regret the bouquets I have tossed at the federal agency.
In recent weeks, though, I have learned a tough lesson about the VA’s medical policy. It works well … if you don’t have an injury or a serious illness. If you need actual help from the VA, well, you’d better strap in for a long haul.
I stumbled and fell on my right arm in the wee hours of Sept. 14. When I hit the deck, I thought I heard a snap in my right arm. I thought it might have broken my arm. I went to the emergency room that morning. I got it checked out. The ER doc told me the x-ray revealed no fracture, but said I needed an MRI to provide me with a definitive diagnosis. The doc said I might have a damaged muscle or tendon or possibly a rotator cuff issue that needs attention.
I have been battling day and night with the VA and with the office of an orthopedist to secure an MRI. It’s now Oct. 2. It’s been 18 days since I hurt my arm. The pain is still there. At times it is sharp. It hurts like hell. I have limited mobility in my right arm, which by the way is my “good arm.”
I still don’t know what in the name of serving our veterans has held up the MRI. I’ve been told I needed another x-ray. I got one. I’ve been told to talk to my primary care physician. I have spoken to her nurses.
There has been delay after delay after delay.
Then the ice-jam broke. I managed to secure an MRI appointment. It will occur in a few days.
My nightmare is almost over. I hope to learn that the detailed exam reveals. I further hope to get it treated. I want to be rid of the pain.
The lesson? The VA is OK, as long as it’s all routine. If you suffer an injury or get sick, then it’s every man for himself.