Friday night was a whirlwind of calling Stateside to talk to our health insurance company. We wanted some assurance that they would be covering the surgery or the hospital stay - something, hopefully most everything, but we weren't sure. The best they could say was asking us to send them doctor's letters and diagnostic reports to have their team actually ok the surgery. Either way, I was having the surgery. Saturday came too soon and we still didn't have answers. It was the weekend and we needed documentation from the doctor, including letters and all sorts for our insurance. At 7:00pm, we finally heard back from the receptionist who asked if we could wait until the next day - no we couldn't, it would be Sunday. The time difference and schedule made this time sensitive. Once again, God showed Himself through the graciousness of the receptionist.
"Don't worry. I live not too far from the office. I'll try to get a hold of keys and then go around to the office tonight to get this all figured out. I will send you a letter this evening." Who does that? Who goes above and beyond? Little did we know at this time, but Friday was technically the last day for this receptionist. A new person would have her job by Monday and we would be working with someone else in this capacity. God knew, God provided.
On Saturday, we took time informing family, packing a bag (it should only be overnight, but we packed for the week just in case), contacting possible accommodation for Andrew, more insurance e-mails and calls and more research on the hospital I would soon be booking into.
"Don't worry. I live not too far from the office. I'll try to get a hold of keys and then go around to the office tonight to get this all figured out. I will send you a letter this evening." Who does that? Who goes above and beyond? Little did we know at this time, but Friday was technically the last day for this receptionist. A new person would have her job by Monday and we would be working with someone else in this capacity. God knew, God provided.
On Saturday, we took time informing family, packing a bag (it should only be overnight, but we packed for the week just in case), contacting possible accommodation for Andrew, more insurance e-mails and calls and more research on the hospital I would soon be booking into.
This is the hospital. Andrew took this picture the following day. My room is the middle block, 2nd row fom top with curtains drawn.
We arrive at the hospital in Harare on Sunday evening. I get rather nervous after seeing the reception area. The place is dated. The tables are shaky, the chairs are in desperate need of reupholster, the tiles are dark, the lighting is minimal and it's clear they haven't made any cosmetic updates since this place was first built back in 1983 (I was born in this hospital 3 years later). Since we had only been in one other hospital in Zimbabwe, last year when I fell and hurt my feet, we had high expectations. The other hospital was updated, brand new and Andrew even commented at the time that it was the nicest and cleanest building he had ever entered in Africa. This was unfortunately not the case. We tried hard not to judge a book by it's cover and filled out paperwork while we waited to be called. Andrew is calm, he reminds me everything we see is purely cosmetic - I agree.
Andrew attempted to book us a private room. Our insurance only covers a semi-private room (2 bed room). We preferred a private room because it allowed Andrew to stay with me as long as he wished. He wanted to see me off before my surgery at 5:30am. He also wanted to come and go as he pleased, rather than be limited to visiting hours. The receptionist was quick to point out that a private room would be an additional $800. We politely declined. We were disappointed but grateful that insurance covered the semi-private room.
We finally handed over our credit card to cover the $2,500 fee. Unfortunately, while we were finalizing the room the receptionist told us that only a 12 bed room was available. At this point my eyes well up, no privacy, no Andrew. I look at Andrew and immediately know that he is envisioning the Chinhoyi Hospital, where we visited Elizabeth. She was in a dormitory room with 16-20 beds, no privacy, limited visitation hours, and lots of eyes. Andrew handed her the card again and said, "We'll take the private room." I insist no, we can't afford it. However, he insists, we need this. We follow the Dave Ramsey method of finances and knew our emergency fund would soon be depleted upon this expense. We make another transaction and then we're finally on our way. Andrew is calm, he keeps reassuring me this was the best decision. Andrew is polite to the receptionist during all of this. He takes the lead and handles the conversation.
We get to the third floor and are welcomed by smiles. A nurse directs us to our room (one of only 2 private rooms in the ward). We get to our room and it's comfortable, it's clean, it will meet all our needs.
Andrew attempted to book us a private room. Our insurance only covers a semi-private room (2 bed room). We preferred a private room because it allowed Andrew to stay with me as long as he wished. He wanted to see me off before my surgery at 5:30am. He also wanted to come and go as he pleased, rather than be limited to visiting hours. The receptionist was quick to point out that a private room would be an additional $800. We politely declined. We were disappointed but grateful that insurance covered the semi-private room.
We finally handed over our credit card to cover the $2,500 fee. Unfortunately, while we were finalizing the room the receptionist told us that only a 12 bed room was available. At this point my eyes well up, no privacy, no Andrew. I look at Andrew and immediately know that he is envisioning the Chinhoyi Hospital, where we visited Elizabeth. She was in a dormitory room with 16-20 beds, no privacy, limited visitation hours, and lots of eyes. Andrew handed her the card again and said, "We'll take the private room." I insist no, we can't afford it. However, he insists, we need this. We follow the Dave Ramsey method of finances and knew our emergency fund would soon be depleted upon this expense. We make another transaction and then we're finally on our way. Andrew is calm, he keeps reassuring me this was the best decision. Andrew is polite to the receptionist during all of this. He takes the lead and handles the conversation.
We get to the third floor and are welcomed by smiles. A nurse directs us to our room (one of only 2 private rooms in the ward). We get to our room and it's comfortable, it's clean, it will meet all our needs.
the removed cannula Soon after arrival, a lady brings me a thermos of cold water and ice. She also offers me tea, to which I say yes. She brings not only a cup of tea, but a few sandwiches triangles too - Andrew eats them, since I've lost my appetite at this time. After a few hours, the anesthesiologist comes by. She introduces herself and is incredibly nice. For some reason, I had imagined a shorter, balding, overweight, middle-aged man, with a thick accent (I have no idea why). Yet, instead it is this beautiful young, 33-weeks pregnant woman, who speaks better English than I. She visits with us for some time. She asks if we have any concerns and makes sure we fully understand the procedure that will take place and answers all of our questions. She assures me that I'm in good hands and that it's normal to feel some fear. In an attempt to calm my anxiety, she tells me she would be far worse. Andrew makes her promise that she will not go into labor while I'm in surgery and she just laughs. Before leaving, she inserts the cannula - my dreaded fear. Who knew that a small little piece of plastic could cause such discomfort? Unfortunately, she taped my fingers as well, which limited my ability to bend my hand (at the knuckles). Each time I did, the plastic needle would protrude below my skin - not a fun feeling.
We are incredibly grateful that we decided on a private room. Andrew stays into the night. He doesn't want to leave my side, which brings me much comfort. To be honest, other than the initial thought that I may be alone tonight, I have felt rather calm. I haven't felt much anxiety and even going as far back as May to the initial exams and tests, I had felt rather relaxed. My opinion has been that worry would not change anything so why bother. Before we could rest, we had some awkward and uncomfortable situations - due to me not being able to use my right hand from the tape for the cannula and the necessities for my upcoming surgery... it's a good thing I have a husband, and we'll leave it at that!
At midnight the nurse came in to attach an IV and get fluids into me. The cords hung all over my head and there was no way to get comfortable because of the placement of the IV bag and the hand chosen to host the cannula. Needless to say, I did dose off. The bed was very comfortable and maybe I had some internal stress I wasn't even aware of that tired out my body. I would constantly wake up and look over to see my husband reading the Bible or checking sports scores on his phone. He just sat there in a hard plastic chair. It was obvious he would not get sleep tonight and that made me feel terrible and yet his presence gave me such incredible peace. Andrew is my constant - the roles from Friday have completely reversed. I'm nervous, he is calm, I am nauseous he is put together, I am emotional he is stoic, but with tenderness in every word and action.
At midnight the nurse came in to attach an IV and get fluids into me. The cords hung all over my head and there was no way to get comfortable because of the placement of the IV bag and the hand chosen to host the cannula. Needless to say, I did dose off. The bed was very comfortable and maybe I had some internal stress I wasn't even aware of that tired out my body. I would constantly wake up and look over to see my husband reading the Bible or checking sports scores on his phone. He just sat there in a hard plastic chair. It was obvious he would not get sleep tonight and that made me feel terrible and yet his presence gave me such incredible peace. Andrew is my constant - the roles from Friday have completely reversed. I'm nervous, he is calm, I am nauseous he is put together, I am emotional he is stoic, but with tenderness in every word and action.
 | At 4:00am, I awoke and could tell I would not fall asleep again. I asked Andrew to read Scripture to me to help calm my nerves - now I was feeling some anxiety. He also prayed with and for me and that also helped. Before we knew it, it was 5:30am and a nurse came in to give me my hospital gown to slip into. She would be back momentarily to take me away for surgery. Andrew helped me change and snapped a quick picture - looking back at the picture, I see exhaustion all over my face. Before leaving, I insisted Andrew try to get some sleep. The surgery would be a few hours and then I'd be in recovery for another 45 minutes before they'd bring me back to my room. He nodded as I walked out the door and followed me to my bed. He gave me one last kiss and they wheeled me away. I can feel myself already losing control. Andrew is deliberate with eye-contact and soothing words and a gentle touch. He is what a husband is supposed to be! |
Side note: At some point Andrew lies on my hospital bed, in hopes of getting some rest - he's exhausted - he stayed awake ALL night. A nurse comes in to clean the linens. She finds him, takes pity on him, and covers him with a cover and lets him rest.
The moment I left Andrew's side, fear overtook me like something I've never felt before. I started shaking uncontrollably, my breathing was very heavy, and I could tell my eyes were quickly welling up. I tried hard to calm myself, remind myself I'm not alone. God is with me. I tried to slow my breathing, but it was pointless. My body wouldn't calm down. The operating room nurse kept rubbing my arm, insisting I calm down, assuring me it would all be ok. I nodded, but kept my eyes closed. Seeing all the lights above me made me queasy. Once in the operating room, I saw all the tools and the machines and knew I needed to close my eyes and ground myself somehow. They started putting heart rate monitors on me and checking my blood pressure. I heard a rapid heart beat immediately on the machines and now the tears rolled down my cheeks - what was wrong with me? This was pretty minor where surgeries are concerned.
Finally the anesthesiologist entered. She had a big smile, she rubbed my arm, and she assured me all was well and fear was normal. She told me I was in good hands. Her words don't comfort me, I still hear the heart monitor beeping loudly and rapidly in the background. In enters the surgeon - the woman I had just met 3 days prior - the same woman about to cut into me. She notices my condition and immediately I hear tone of concern in her voice. She wipes my tears with the back of her hand. Then she looks in my eyes, takes my hand and asks to pray for me. I'm shocked, but nod yes. Everyone in the room stops what they are doing. The clinging of tools and moving trolleys stop, I see heads bow and eyes close. And she begins to pray, "God please guide my hands as I perform this surgery. Lead the eyes of the anesthesiologist as she watches over Yolanda. Help every person in this room to do their job at the best of their ability. Please Lord help the surgery go smoothly and we also pray for a good recovery. Lord, I pray you replace Yolanda's fear with perfect peace from your Holy Spirit. Calm her nerves..." I start to hear the heart monitor slow down in its beeping, "...All these things I ask in Jesus name, Amen." My tears are gone, my body is no longer shaking, I hear someone say, "She's calmed down." Then the anesthesiologist says, "This will burn a little." I feel a sharp burning sensation in my hand and grimace...
The moment I left Andrew's side, fear overtook me like something I've never felt before. I started shaking uncontrollably, my breathing was very heavy, and I could tell my eyes were quickly welling up. I tried hard to calm myself, remind myself I'm not alone. God is with me. I tried to slow my breathing, but it was pointless. My body wouldn't calm down. The operating room nurse kept rubbing my arm, insisting I calm down, assuring me it would all be ok. I nodded, but kept my eyes closed. Seeing all the lights above me made me queasy. Once in the operating room, I saw all the tools and the machines and knew I needed to close my eyes and ground myself somehow. They started putting heart rate monitors on me and checking my blood pressure. I heard a rapid heart beat immediately on the machines and now the tears rolled down my cheeks - what was wrong with me? This was pretty minor where surgeries are concerned.
Finally the anesthesiologist entered. She had a big smile, she rubbed my arm, and she assured me all was well and fear was normal. She told me I was in good hands. Her words don't comfort me, I still hear the heart monitor beeping loudly and rapidly in the background. In enters the surgeon - the woman I had just met 3 days prior - the same woman about to cut into me. She notices my condition and immediately I hear tone of concern in her voice. She wipes my tears with the back of her hand. Then she looks in my eyes, takes my hand and asks to pray for me. I'm shocked, but nod yes. Everyone in the room stops what they are doing. The clinging of tools and moving trolleys stop, I see heads bow and eyes close. And she begins to pray, "God please guide my hands as I perform this surgery. Lead the eyes of the anesthesiologist as she watches over Yolanda. Help every person in this room to do their job at the best of their ability. Please Lord help the surgery go smoothly and we also pray for a good recovery. Lord, I pray you replace Yolanda's fear with perfect peace from your Holy Spirit. Calm her nerves..." I start to hear the heart monitor slow down in its beeping, "...All these things I ask in Jesus name, Amen." My tears are gone, my body is no longer shaking, I hear someone say, "She's calmed down." Then the anesthesiologist says, "This will burn a little." I feel a sharp burning sensation in my hand and grimace...
| The nurse (or someone) asks me to move onto my bed. I'm back in the private room. I briefly see Andrew, but immediately lie down and fall asleep. I'm still completely out of it. I don't remember anything while in recovery, but a nurse tells me that I asked a male nurse to marry me - I'm mortified - grateful I don't remember any of it. The doctor, stops by later on in the day to check up on me. She insists I stay another night. She assures us the surgery went very well though. Originally there were two cysts to remove, one on each ovary. However, the smaller cyst had already dissolved and they were able to get the entirety of the larger cyst. She reminds me again how incredibly large the cyst was. I don't have much of an appetite, Andrew ran some errands - he picked up treats and milkshakes - nothing sounds good to |  |
me. Nurses keep coming in checking my blood pressure, my heart rate, pumping stuff into my cannula, stuff that burns so bad it makes me scream. Each time a nurse pumps stuff into me she apologizes. She tells me, "It will hurt, this will burn, I'm so sorry. Patients always cry from pain because of this med." Same response from each nurse each time she gives me stuff - whatever stuff that doesn't feel like it could possibly be good for me. They keep swapping IV bags and pumping me full of fluids. Everyone is so nice, everyone is so kind, everyone is so helpful - God is present in the service through others.
Evening comes and Andrew goes to get dinner and eats with me. The hospital food is pretty good. Small portions, but the nausea ensures I wouldn't want an extra bite. I finally insist that Andrew leaves. I slept most of the day anyway. He is so tired and needs sleep in a bed. I insist I don't want to see him until later the next day. He nods and leaves. Nurses come in all throughout the night giving me meds. I'm so grateful I don't have to get out of bed for the restroom, due to the catheter - I get some rest.
Evening comes and Andrew goes to get dinner and eats with me. The hospital food is pretty good. Small portions, but the nausea ensures I wouldn't want an extra bite. I finally insist that Andrew leaves. I slept most of the day anyway. He is so tired and needs sleep in a bed. I insist I don't want to see him until later the next day. He nods and leaves. Nurses come in all throughout the night giving me meds. I'm so grateful I don't have to get out of bed for the restroom, due to the catheter - I get some rest.
Tuesday comes quickly and now it's clear I have had surgery. A nurse offers to help me shower, but I insist my husband will arrive soon. Andrew arrives, earlier than I expect - even though I've been awake since 4:30am. They finally remove the catheter - relief! My stomach looks like I'm about 7 months pregnant - literally. They have pumped so much gas into my stomach to perform the surgery. The skin feels tight, there's a lot of pressure, and I have 4 smallish bandage/tape covered wounds. Lunchtime I have no appetite. My tray of food sits for 2 hours and the nurse insists I try eating. Another lady offers to heat my food in the microwave. They've already been in twice today to clean the room, sanitize light switches, door knobs, wiping down my food tray and mopping the floor. We are so impressed with the cleanliness level. Thank you God for providing such a good hospital.
 First walk down the hallway with the physical therapist by my side | Andrew hears back from the insurance - since there was no semi-private room available upon check-in, they will cover the private room - 100%. Thank you Jesus for answered prayers, thank you for your continued provision! The physical therapist stops by my room and tells me to get up and walk down the hallway. She tells me to roll to my side, throw my legs down, and then pull myself up from the side. I try and very quickly tell her she can do it herself ;-) She takes it slowly and shows me how - there's pain, there's discomfort, but this is all normal. I'm determined to start moving as soon as possible. She helps me walk down the hallway. The cleaning crew immediately moves into my room, refreshing my linen, puffing up pillows, and doing a quick clean while I'm up and about - once again, we are so impressed. The doctor stops by again for a follow up. I'm struggling to breathe, I have tightness in my chest and pain in my shoulder. She insists on another day in hospital - so we stay. |
Andrew helps me get up each time I go to the toilet. Once he leaves, I need the restroom during the night. The nurse comes immediately after I press the call button. I insist I only want her to stand there in case I need assistance, but want to get up by myself. Every time I get up I go for a walk, I make small talk with the nurses when I walk past the nurses' station. They are kind and polite, always asking how I'm doing and if I need assistance.
Another night passes.
Wednesday comes and the meds continue. The IV bag is empty, but there's backflow and the pipe is filled with blood. A nurse comes to remove it and realizes there's a small blood clot. She has to clean it out, more burning, more pain. She seems nervous and drops the needle, then drops the file, then bumps into my bed. She seems all over the place. Andrew raises his eyebrows. She removes the pipe and opens the cannula only to have blood go everywhere. She's not wearing gloves and gets blood all over her. I remind her that she probably needs to clean up first. But first she hastily attaches the pipe, then goes to wash her hands. I see bubble after bubble flow down the pipe. I've seen movies - this is bad right? I mention it to her, she assures me she'll be right back. In the meantime, the bubbles increase in size and flow rapidly through my cannula. I look at Andrew, then say, "Well I'm not dead yet." She comes back and removes the bubbles and promptly leaves, never to return again.
Another night passes.
Wednesday comes and the meds continue. The IV bag is empty, but there's backflow and the pipe is filled with blood. A nurse comes to remove it and realizes there's a small blood clot. She has to clean it out, more burning, more pain. She seems nervous and drops the needle, then drops the file, then bumps into my bed. She seems all over the place. Andrew raises his eyebrows. She removes the pipe and opens the cannula only to have blood go everywhere. She's not wearing gloves and gets blood all over her. I remind her that she probably needs to clean up first. But first she hastily attaches the pipe, then goes to wash her hands. I see bubble after bubble flow down the pipe. I've seen movies - this is bad right? I mention it to her, she assures me she'll be right back. In the meantime, the bubbles increase in size and flow rapidly through my cannula. I look at Andrew, then say, "Well I'm not dead yet." She comes back and removes the bubbles and promptly leaves, never to return again.
| The doctor stops by again and she feels it necessary to stay another day. She doesn't like the coughing, the heavy breathing, the tightness in my chest. So we stay another day and another day passes. It's finally Thursday and the doctor assured us she would check me out today. She stops by in the morning. She removes my bandages - the 3 small incisions seem so small and insignificant - the bellybutton, not so much. It looks gross. I have a new belly button and I don't like it. She tells the nurses to clean it once she's gone. She still doesn't like my chest situation. She sends me for a chest X-rays and EKG. |  Flowers from my mom, which made my day! |
A nurse arrives to take me for my X-ray and offers to take me in a wheelchair, but I insist I can walk. Once I come out of the X-ray room, I fall into her arms - maybe I needed a wheelchair after all. She tells me to sit and wait and she'll return with the wheelchair.
Once in the room, a male nurse or technician enters with one of the female nurses. They start to hook me up with an old school EKG machine. He covers me up with a sheet and then asks me to disrobe my chest - I look at Andrew. I'm rather modest. I don't care that he's in the medical field. I feel uncomfortable, but he's obviously very professional. I try not to make eye-contact. They place little suction cups all over my chest and under my breast. They have what looks like jumper cables attached to my ankles and wrists - I ask if there's any electricity involved (again, I've seen movies). They ensure this is painless and it is.
The doctor returns later in the day to read my tests - all is normal. It's just the gas build up that's causing the pain. In the meantime I asked Andrew to buy 2 bunches of flowers, thank you cards, and a huge box of cookies. I write out thank you cards to all the hospital staff - nurses, aides, cleaning staff, food prep people, etc. There is one each for the surgeon and the anesthesiologist. I give the cookies to the hospital staff and the flowers to the doctors. They can't believe it. Multiple hospital staff members enter our room through the day to thank us personally. The head nurse stops by, thanks us for our generosity, and tells us what a thankless job they have. "Many people come here in high stress situations, often we are yelled at, called names, blamed for situations, etc. Most people don't thank us or appreciate what we do." Her words were sincere, deliberate, and grateful to have someone hear her. Andrew and I nod, expressing our gratitude to all involved and expressing the excellent level of care we had received, and telling them God bless you with every chance we got. Many asked if we were Christians, then smiled. Maybe just as Jesus worked through all those who served us and cared for us, He also worked through us to show His love to them. Thank you Jesus!
The doctor had the biggest smile upon receiving her flowers. "I looove flowers," she gushes, "I've never had a patient respond so beautifully."
She insists we stay in Harare until Saturday, before heading back to Chinhoyi. The 20 minute drive to our accommodation for the next two nights is torturous. I sleep most of the time due to meds. We finally head home on Saturday.
A week passes and we have a follow-up appointment with the doctor. I'm healing well. She insists I'm overdoing it and need to rest more (we met half day with the ladies, I started the blog post, I've continued to make evening dinners - needless to say, Andrew has done EVERYTHING else). She has official test results back from the cyst and tumor inside of it - it's benign. However, we never doubted that diagnosis - thank you Jesus.
We do find out that the type of cyst I had only results in 2% of cases. I most likely will never again have a cyst like it - at least not this type.
I also receive a possible diagnosis. We are not ready to share that information, but please keep us in your prayers as there is no cure. We have some tough decisions to make over the next few weeks and months. We have a follow up in four weeks.
I know this is long. I know this is wordy. I know this is more details than many of you need or want. Thank you for making it this far. God has been so incredibly gracious throughout this experience. We have also found out that our insurance will cover EVERYTHING - the hospital fees, the surgery, the doctors, the physical therapist, the meds, the follow up exams - everything. We do not need to pay a single penny of the $4,800+
- thank you Jesus!!!
Once in the room, a male nurse or technician enters with one of the female nurses. They start to hook me up with an old school EKG machine. He covers me up with a sheet and then asks me to disrobe my chest - I look at Andrew. I'm rather modest. I don't care that he's in the medical field. I feel uncomfortable, but he's obviously very professional. I try not to make eye-contact. They place little suction cups all over my chest and under my breast. They have what looks like jumper cables attached to my ankles and wrists - I ask if there's any electricity involved (again, I've seen movies). They ensure this is painless and it is.
The doctor returns later in the day to read my tests - all is normal. It's just the gas build up that's causing the pain. In the meantime I asked Andrew to buy 2 bunches of flowers, thank you cards, and a huge box of cookies. I write out thank you cards to all the hospital staff - nurses, aides, cleaning staff, food prep people, etc. There is one each for the surgeon and the anesthesiologist. I give the cookies to the hospital staff and the flowers to the doctors. They can't believe it. Multiple hospital staff members enter our room through the day to thank us personally. The head nurse stops by, thanks us for our generosity, and tells us what a thankless job they have. "Many people come here in high stress situations, often we are yelled at, called names, blamed for situations, etc. Most people don't thank us or appreciate what we do." Her words were sincere, deliberate, and grateful to have someone hear her. Andrew and I nod, expressing our gratitude to all involved and expressing the excellent level of care we had received, and telling them God bless you with every chance we got. Many asked if we were Christians, then smiled. Maybe just as Jesus worked through all those who served us and cared for us, He also worked through us to show His love to them. Thank you Jesus!
The doctor had the biggest smile upon receiving her flowers. "I looove flowers," she gushes, "I've never had a patient respond so beautifully."
She insists we stay in Harare until Saturday, before heading back to Chinhoyi. The 20 minute drive to our accommodation for the next two nights is torturous. I sleep most of the time due to meds. We finally head home on Saturday.
A week passes and we have a follow-up appointment with the doctor. I'm healing well. She insists I'm overdoing it and need to rest more (we met half day with the ladies, I started the blog post, I've continued to make evening dinners - needless to say, Andrew has done EVERYTHING else). She has official test results back from the cyst and tumor inside of it - it's benign. However, we never doubted that diagnosis - thank you Jesus.
We do find out that the type of cyst I had only results in 2% of cases. I most likely will never again have a cyst like it - at least not this type.
I also receive a possible diagnosis. We are not ready to share that information, but please keep us in your prayers as there is no cure. We have some tough decisions to make over the next few weeks and months. We have a follow up in four weeks.
I know this is long. I know this is wordy. I know this is more details than many of you need or want. Thank you for making it this far. God has been so incredibly gracious throughout this experience. We have also found out that our insurance will cover EVERYTHING - the hospital fees, the surgery, the doctors, the physical therapist, the meds, the follow up exams - everything. We do not need to pay a single penny of the $4,800+
- thank you Jesus!!!
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