And the Wheels on the Bus Go Round & Round... Updated at 5pm

*Update below*

For the love of GOD and all that his holy and/or represents some semblence of sanity, someone please explain the logic here:

LoveBug breaks his leg in Texas.
The surgeon puts a large railroad spike down the center of his leg.
The surgeon advises immediate follow-up with an Ortho here in Fla.

FunkyBug has called every fucking Ortho between Tampa and Orlando.

Here's where it gets *funny*, kids.

"Hello, I my husband broke his leg in Texas. He's home now after undergoing surgery, and we would like to schedule an appointment for follow-up care."

"I'm sorry, Ma'am, but the doctor will not accept your husband as a patient if he's had surgery in the last year."

Excuse me, but isn't that WHY we're calling? BECAUSE he had surgery? Someone grab my soapbox.

Follow the logic -- leg broke, surgery, bandages, staples, pain, care, brick wall.

I called my insurance company and they suggested we "wait until he's in pain, then take him to the ER for assessment. The ER will then refer him to an Ortho who will be required to treat him and assume his follow-up care."

Here's where the soapbox comes in; the insurance companies were the very entities pushing the Florida Legistlature to draft the 3 Strike law, which our ill-informed constituency voted in on the last cycle. This was supposed to "drive those bad doctors right out of Florida, upping the quality of our health care."

What it did was scare the bejeezus out of every practicing doctor. So now, rather than treat patients in need, they shoo them away for fear of having their license taken away. Three strikes (medical malpractice, which is as popular as Mentos) and you're out.

SO -- the insurance companies that pushed the issue are now going to pay 3x as much for my husband's care.

AND -- I get to sit in the fucking ER all damned day.

and I have a biology test tonight.

So -- anyone know why fat girls never get kidnapped?
Because it's so hard to get our ass in the car unless there's a pizza in the back seat.

*UPDATE*
Oh my god this is about the MOST frustrating thing I've ever experience, and yes that does include our actual courtship.

I took him to Urgent Care. After an hour, we walked out with two prescriptions and a "I'm sorry, but we cannot do post-operative care."

So we drove to the Emergency Room.
After listening to the nurse laughing over the actual incident that resulted in our current level of frustration, we were shipped to Fast Track, a little area of irony for ER patients without life-threatening issues. The doctor showed up some time after lunch and actually removed part of the bandage! I was shocked! I was thrilled! He pulled back a corner of the gauze and viewed on staple. We left a few minutes later with more prescriptions and a referral to an Ortho.

The Ortho he referred us to was the first of about a million to turn us down previously. I took great satisfaction in telling them that they had to see my husband now, because we had a REFERRAL.

So they scheduled us ONE follow-up for Friday at 11:30. That's all they're required to do. If he needs more follow-ups, we have two choices:

Choice 1: Sit in the ER and wait for another referral to the lucky Ortho on call
Choice 2: Go back to Texas for each and every follow-up.

Thank you voters of Florida! You fucking morons.

Here's my tip for the day. If you're out of your home state and you need emergency surgery, you might want to fly back to your local hospital to have it performed.

This is Funky, and that is all.