The (P)shawshank Redemption

I've spent close to the last sixty days of this calendar year NOT having any out of pocket expenses for any of the battalion of doctors whom I see on a regular basis or on the trainloads of medications they (quite) often prescribe.

At some point in October I reached my 'catastrophic maximum' (health insurance speak for dude found his dust or similar) which sounds swell until I reflect on the year I had and how much I relied on all the doctors who are kind enough to have me as a patient.

I didn't come to this realization alone (I rarely do anything alone anymore), but rather thanks to my rheumatologist, Dr. V., who has never been accused of subtlety (which would be wasted on me anyway) when he looked at three sets of blood panels and the last four sets of x-rays and offered with a smile, 'y'know without the people treating you who do, I think you'd be dead.'

As you might imagine, he got an extra large fruit basket for this holiday season, but then I got to thinking about that observation and realized he was true. And it gets worse: I say 'thank you' on a nothing similar to regular much less frequent basis and so, as this year closes out, I should get this in (under the wire) and before the doors close.

Thanks to my primary care physician, Dr. E., and good luck in your move to Jersey (it's a tough state, trust me, especially to be from). Not everyone would have welcomed my migration to your new practice a couple of years ago but you've always been gracious and a good sport, even when I scared the crap out of both of us and knocked myself out.

Dr. C., my endocrinologist, always strikes me as an out take from Despicable Me, and is just the guy I need at this point in my life especially as I'd like to get to the next point, such as tomorrow and the day after that. Dr. N., the nephrologist, always laughs at my jokes, even when I don't make any but she's put the kidding back into kidney and that is what's promising to be a major issue in the New Year that starts Tuesday.

Not everyone has two orthopedic surgeons, nor needs to I suppose, but I do. Dr. A. and Dr. G. handle my ankles and knees so the fact that I can walk around and bug you as much as that seems to (based on the comments), is really their doing.  Dr. N. doesn't have an oil can but is my cardiologist and heart-to-heart expert. He and I had some marvelous moments in 2012 that neither of us, I hope, want to duplicate in the coming, or any other, year.

That leaves me with the extremely effervescent Dr V., who is so full of the joy of living it is impossible to NOT feel like Tigger by the time you leave no matter how much like Eeyore you felt on your way in.

I often believe I have enough white coats surrounding me to have my own version of Entourage (and I'm taller than Jeremy Piven, I looked) though no takers on any of the twenty-eight channels (it seems) of HBO. As  I said, I'm not good at saying thank you to those without whose efforts...well, let's just say without whose efforts this piece of the blogosphere might well have a little more elbow room.

The only way this could be better would be if I had Petula Clark giving me lifestyle advice.
Oh, and a pony ride for my birthday.
-bill kenny