In addition to the above $2,968, the surgeon charged Medicare another $934.75,
and after I had paid the anaesthetist $190 to knock me out, the Ether Bunny charged Medicare another $558.35. All up, with the hospital charges, a total of $5,918.10.
Then, in mid-December, the surgeon telephoned to ask me, "Is everything all right?"
That's nice of her, I thought, but then I saw my Medicare statement: another $40.85.
They don't miss ya! Can you see what's driving our go-for-broke medical industry?
Ka-ching, ka-ching, ka-ching, ka-ching, ka-ching, ka-ching, ka-ching, ka-ching!
For the last seven days, I have been looking like a cross between Elephant Man and an Egyptian mummy but today the wraps will come off and all will be revealed. Did I get my money's worth?
Maree, the super-efficient nurse at the Batemans Bay Medical Centre whom I know from her performances at the Country Music gatherings in Nelligen Hall, will cut and unwrap and then wrap and rewrap me again.
Of course, all this is merely a precursor of what awaits me when my ambulatory abilities have been reduced by advancing old age which is not something to be looked forward to. Old age is no place for sissies.
