For Those Who Need a Real Life Example of Being “Open”

A long, long time ago, when I was really sick, my doctor suggested I see a specialist. This particular brand of specialist gave me a lot of hope, which was something I was seriously lacking at the time.

I waited SIX long months to see this guy.

The morning of my appointment, I arrived early. This was no easy task, considering I had trouble standing long enough to take a shower. Incessant brain fog made me terrified to drive. Yet I drove through bad traffic with no incident or confusion.

When I checked in, the receptionist looked at my insurance card and walked away. I didn’t have much of a connection to my spidey sense back then, but I knew something was up.

As my throat swelled up and my temperature rose, I began the internal refrain I’d read about in Tosha Silver’s book:

I am open to the highest possible outcome.

I am open to the highest possible outcome.

I am open to the highest possible outcome.

She came back with the practice manager, who explained to me that just that morning, they had received a fax from the hospital system. They no longer accepted my type of health insurance.

At first, I assumed it was my mistake. My bully brain, at the time, often found fault in my doings. But I’d seen enough specialists by then. They wouldn’t have accepted my appointment without first verifying my insurance.

Then I got mad.

The manager and I went back and forth, back and forth. She showed me the fax. Yes, they still accepted Anthem. What they no longer accepted was Anthem Bronze (i.e., the Obamacare version of health insurance which was all I could afford, and my only option).

She told me I could pay out of pocket for the consult. But I knew it wouldn’t matter. Even if I could afford the consult, I couldn't pay for treatment without insurance.

Much to my horror, I burst into tears.

Much to my embarrassment, she came into the waiting room and hugged me.

I sobbed on her shoulder.

Here’s the thing. When you’re sick, really sick, life-altering sick, hope is the bandaid that keeps you held together. The health system had ripped off my bandaid, and I was bleeding out on a kind stranger’s shoulder.

The waiting room door opened again, and I heard a voice:

“Hey, hey, hey, what’s all this about?”

A doctor walked towards us as I tried to pull myself together. The practice manager explained my situation.

He nodded, put his hand on my shoulder, and said, “Come on back.”

He explained this was his practice. And it was his prerogative to take on a certain number of patients each year, pro bono. Since I’d come all this way, we may as well go through the consult to see if he could help me out.

The consult required X-rays, no charge. The surgeon’s time, also no charge. A complete work-up.

No charge.

As it turns out, he most likely could have cured my problem. But it wasn’t 100%. And this surgical solution would have kept me from work for 3-6 months. Full recovery within a year. And it would have seriously messed up my face.

Oh, and it’s (in his words), “quite painful.”

Though I gushed in gratitude, I knew it wasn’t the right option for me.

I knew my pleading with the universe for the highest possible outcome had been heard. Although it wasn’t the miracle I’d hoped for, being able to have the consult felt miraculous. Had I not had the consult, a part of me would have always wondered.

Here’s the best part of the story.

Two years later, the issue I’d seen him for resolved itself. The neurologist who’d referred me to the surgeon was flabbergasted. It blew my mind to hear him say that he'd never seen this type of recovery. This stoic, science-driven man even used the word "miracle."

It’s why I love this statement so much. Being open to the "highest possible outcome" can lead you places you may never expect. Had my ego been in charge that morning, my "highest possible outcome" would have been winning the lottery so I can have a "quite painful" surgery that messed up my face and "most likely" would fix my issue.

Instead, I received so much more.

Including the gift of telling you this story today. Happy, healthy, and living miracle to miracle.

Me and my not messed up face lol

If I was still on Twitter, I’d have tweeted this today:

I share my story, not so you feel inspired by me. I share my story to encourage you to find inspiration in YOUR own story. Keep writing. (Be open to the highest possible outcome!)

Alas, Twitter and I are on a break. But later I’ll share my “if I was on Twitter” notes file as a post.

p.s., if you are a Twitter friend and wish to share this post, please do! I miss you all so much! Missing all your cloud pics, pet pics, funny quips, spiritual deep truths. SIGH.

p.p.s., if you’re reading this, please introduce yourself! I am feeling so much more grounded not being on social media AND have deeply realized how much connection I truly found there. I miss our connection and I know you know who you are. ;)