Yesterday, we had OT and ABA. ABA was cancelled due to his therapist feeling ill (feel better N!) and I got all excited. We could go visit IKEA which is one of our favorite places! Only that didn’t work out.

I battled with his primary care doc’s office over insurance shenanigans.

Now, a little background is in order. I myself live with complex PTSD. One of the things that really triggers my symptoms is being treated like I have not done something I have very, very clearly done. I start to panic, it’s a rotten mess. I know this about myself, thus I do my best to document everything for situations such as that. I keep track of phone call times, text messages, emails, visits… I have a pen and paper calendar (who DOES that anymore?! Oh yeah me) and it comes with me nearly everywhere we go.

So yesterday the battle begins. J-bear’s OT office calls. The fantastic office admin sounds so sheepish when I answer the phone. Insurance has failed. Again. The referral she was given was wrong in multiple ways. She can’t get a call back from the office and isn’t even sure what to do. I apologize to her profusely, as we’ve fought this battle since November together, and when I am finished with her I am immediately on the phone to his primary care doctor’s office.

Now, every single person there that I have talked to told me I was wrong. Not only was I incorrect about what the OT’s office was telling me, I had never requested the 2012 referrals and it was my fault they’d had the wrong information. My nervous nature had prodded me to write out a document with all of my son’s pertinent details, every detail of his providers requiring referral as well as dates those referrals were needed for. I delivered this document 3 times. THREE. I informed the women I spoke with of this. They told me I was wrong (!!!) and that I’d have to fight with insurance to get this all covered but they’d see what they could do.

How kind.

30 minutes later… After I’ve already learned that wrong names and medical records numbers have been kicked around, I get a call back. They were so hangdog about it. They found their obvious errors. Everything was being immediately fixed. Never an apology, but I’ll forgo that if his care can continue unimpeded by their idiocy.

… Meanwhile she called my son the wrong name every time she mentioned him.

This brings me to another topic on the random generator: My son’s name.

I saddled this kid with 3 first names in the course of his full and complete legal name. Yeah, I know, signs he’s either going to play baseball or be a serial killer right? All of these three names are common first names. He routinely gets called his last name as his first name. It’s mildly annoying. Having his already short first name shortened further… mildly annoying.

The teacher who called him “Kyle”… completely unrelated to his actual given names…. that was something special I still can’t get over.

Whenever something naughty happens he might try to ever blame on someone else I am going to blame it on Kyle, my invisible son that must surely follow J-bear around!

And last on this weird journey of an entry, I found a balance disc for J-bear, one of them inflatable things you use for workouts. He loves to stand on people to try and balance and honestly, it hurts to have 32lbs+ of toddler balancing on your legs or back! He is loving the disc and sits or stands on it, plus it was fairly inexpensive at Wal-mart. I’ll try and get a picture of him surfing on it this week. Right now he’s too busy trying to be a bat by hanging off the couch and I am going to go rectify that.

We have rafters to hang upside down from after all.