The Edge of the Abyss

The Edge of the Abyss
Depression is not a sign of weakness

Tuesday, March 3, 2015

THE STORY OF PEDRO THE CHIHUAHUA, OR A MORALITY TALE ON DURABLE MEDICAL EQUIPMENT


This is the story of Pedro, a Chihuahua. When Pedro was born, his parents welcomed him into the world, although he was different than his other siblings. You see, Pedro had no front legs, which is a pretty tough predicament for a dog. His family took good care of him, but by the time he was weaned, it was clear Pedro was going to need wheels.

So, his parents checked with their health insurer about their durable medical coverage, which is a fancy phrase for “are they gonna pay for a wheelchair or not?”

“Well,” said the client care representative, (which is a fancy phrase for someone who works in a boiler room in Waterloo, Iowa and follows a script on a computer screen) “you have coverage at 100 percent, but only for a chair made from paper clips, Fun-Tak and old Tonka truck wheels.”

Pedro’s mom and dad were not pleased to hear this. Not at all. So they began talking with rehab experts and disability ergonomic specialists and doing research online. To be able to run and play like the other dogs, Pedro needed a Canine Wheel-X 9000. This was no ordinary chair. It was made from titanium, aircraft aluminum and water-resistant micro fiber -- and absolutely no Fun-Tak. His parents got a prescription and letter of medical necessity from Pedro’s doctor, along with a cost estimate for the chair. They submitted these, along with an appeal letter, to their insurance company. Weeks later, they received a letter back.

The letter was lengthy and technical and somehow both overly polite yet very dehumanizing, or in this case, de-canine-izing. The upshot was: either accept the crappy uncomfortable, one-size-fits-most chair of paper clips and Fun-Tak at no out-of-pocket cost, or spend a prince’s ransom of their own money to get Pedro what he needed, i.e. the Canine Wheel-X 9000.

Being dedicated parents who loved Pedro very much, they bought him the Canine Wheel-X 9000. Pedro was overjoyed, and once he received his custom-fitted new chair that actually accommodated his needs, he went tearing around the neighborhood. Soon, Pedro was chasing cats and retrieving sticks. He was even able to use the fire hydrant on his own, whereas before, he always fell over without someone to lean against.

But Pedro was no dim bulb. No sir-ee. He was well aware that his family had been forced to move out of their custom Dogloo A-frame into a cardboard box. And mom was stretching the daily meal of Science Diet by adding sawdust. This was because his family had to scale back on costs because of what they paid for his Canine Wheel-X 9000.

So, Pedro began collecting up the – how can we say this politely? – “end products” of his digestive process. Day after day he saved them and after he had a huge pile, put it all into a paper bag. He put it on a little trailer and hauled it very, very far – all the way across town to the home of the company president of his family’s health insurance provider. On the president’s doorstep, when no one was looking, Pedro dumped the heavy paper sack onto the stoop. He lit the sack with a match and then knocked on the door by kicking it.

Then -- because he had the right wheelchair that accommodated his needs -- he was able to run like hell. Once across the street, Pedro watched as the door opened, a man came out and began stomping out the flaming bag. Then the man examined his own shoes and cursed a blue streak.

It was a long trip back home, but Pedro ran briskly, his little tail wagging the whole way.

THE END.

No comments:

Post a Comment