The Drunken Crime Fighting Zookeeper

Sometimes, little things happen to me that don’t quite merit their own blog posts but should probably be mentioned nonetheless. Since I’m currently in the middle of avoiding folding laundry, I figured I’d record the latest news and happenings in my own little universe for your reading pleasure. Here’s what’s been going on over the past week!

1. I still suck at training.

Not exactly breaking news here, but this week I impressed even myself. I was on a roll this week – I hit every single workout my coach gave me, even when I didn’t want. I even woke up early to go running on a WEEKDAY, which basically never happens. Yes, I had to commission my friend to go with me, but he wakes up at 4 am every day to work out anyway, so he didn’t mind. Point being, I was killing it all week and I was ready for my long run on Saturday.

And then I had a super annoying day at work on Friday that sent me into a rage spiral that only alcohol can cure. Ok, maybe running could have too, but my coach told me it was a rest day and I take that shit seriously. When AJ got home and found me drinking beer on the couch in my best Mossy Oak attire, he was horrified enough to force me to change clothes and then drag me out to our local Mexican restaurant for oversized margaritas and plenty of queso. God bless that man.

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I’m in an animated gif kind of mood today. Sorry I’m not sorry.

Fortunately or unfortunately, I drank a 42 ounce margarita. That’s a lot of tequila, people. I’ll tell you what, though, I forgot all about my rage spiral. So what did I do when we got home from dinner? Tried mightily to update my T-Rex facebook page, which took exactly as long as you would think after 42 ounces of margarita, and then promptly passed out at 8:30 pm with my alarm set with the best of intentions. Somewhere during this time, AJ spilled beer in my hair. I woke up about 5 times  during the night to get water, but I was still dizzy every time because I’m apparently a binge drinker responsible like that. With temperatures around 80 on tap for Saturday, I made the executive decision when I woke up for good that a long run would surely end poorly for me and everyone involved, so I informed AJ that we would be going to the zoo instead.  Hey, at least it involved moving.

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You could pay $2 to buy some lettuce to feed a giraffe! Experience of a lifetime, I tell you.

So we fought off hoards of children (seriously, we both nearly had a panic attack) and checked out the zoo, which was lovely minus the children. I stood in line with abotu 50 of my closest 4 year old friends to buy some lettuce to feed a giraffe, and it was totally worth it. Apparently you’re not supposed to actually pet the giraffes, but no one told me that, so screw it.

2. I got the results of the BRAVO test back.

You may remember my post from a couple weeks ago where I got an endoscopy to implant a little acid monitor inside my esophagus. I had to carry a little machine with me that looked like a pager used by Tupac (RIP) during his drug dealing days, remember? OK. Well, I called the doctor’s office last week to see when I might expect to get my results back, and they said it would take a week or two. For a test that was supposed to be done “ASAP” according to my doctor, this seemed like an unnecessarily long time since all they had to do was plug in the little machine and print out the report and read it, but what can you do. Anyway, I got the results on Thursday, and lo and behold, I do have severe reflux like they thought. Hooray!

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Jesus take the wheel!

Why am I excited? Well, when you’ve been speculating for a few months about what you may or may not be afflicted with and trying a bunch of different medicines that don’t work, it gets frustrating, and at some point you just want some answers. I’m relieved to finally have some! This isn’t the end of the road, though. I have to go back to the doctor on Tuesday of this week and get another test that determines whether my esophagus is functioning correctly. I’m pretty sure that means I’m going to eat food and they’re going to watch me swallow it, but that seems awkward, so I don’t know. Of course, whenever the doctor’s office calls tell to you anything, it’s never the doctor himself – it’s a nurse or scheduling person who doesn’t know anything other than what the doctor told her, so I have no idea what the name of the test is, exactly what it does, or what it’s supposed to tell us. I remember awhile ago that my doctor said reflux can either be caused by your stomach or your esophagus, so I guess maybe they are trying to figure out which one it is. I think they are expecting the results of this test to be normal so that they can prove to my insurance company that I need to get surgery, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.

3. I discovered that my therapist is committing insurance fraud.

Speaking of insurance, I also discovered on Thursday that my therapist is committing insurance fraud. Fun, right? I mean really, things like this only happen to me. I got a call from one of my millions of doctors telling me that one of their claims had been rejected because my insurance company said I didn’t have insurance at the time of the claim. That was obviously untrue, but apparently my problem nonetheless, so I had to call my insurance and straighten it out. Apparently they were all mixed up because of my name changing with the divorce, but that’s neither here nor there. Anyway, after we got that all figured out, I asked if any other claims had been rejected.

Me: “Have any other claims been rejected?”

Insurance: “Yes…it looks like $900 in claims from XYZ doctor.”

Me: “Um, what? Are those the claims from like…the whole year?”

Insurance: “No, that’s since mid-October…”

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pokd23e23djLKJ3CIJDLK!!! WHY ME?

After extensive back and forth and me praying to sweet baby Jesus that I wasn’t hearing what I thought I was hearing, the insurance lady and I figured out that my therapist had filed 47 claims with my insurance company since the beginning of the year. I see my therapist once a month at most. The insurance person told me to go back through the dates that I had gone and check them against the claims and try and find if there was any pattern that could indicate some type of glitch in the billing system, so I did – and there was no pattern. I have a friend that goes to the same therapist, so I called her and told her to check with her insurance to see if she had a ton of claims also, and she did too. We figured out that between the two of us alone, my therapist has received an extra $5300 for fake claims.

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Here comes the rage.

Ok, so here’s the thing. Even if that somehow all started off as an accident – maybe there really was a glitch in the system – I’m pretty sure you notice that much extra money coming in. If it was a mistake and she did notice it, she didn’t report it, and I have a serious problem with that. In fact, she’s still making those claims. Ughhhhhhh. I hate that I had to report this, and I really hope it all turns out to be a huge mistake. But I’m pretty sure it’s not a mistake.

This really sucks on about a thousand levels, not the least of which is that she actually really helped me, and now I can’t see her anymore for obvious reasons. I take integrity and honesty super super seriously, to the point of it making me almost unreasonably upset when people let me down in this area. I was/am pretty distraught over the whole situation. I guess this is why T-Rex Mom told me to actually read all those Explanation of Benefits things the insurance company emails to me.

So, that’s the latest in the world of the T-Rex. What did you do this weekend?

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