Earlier this week, I pledged to stop blogging incessantly about my car crash. But that blog did include the rider that I would only abide by that if you people [really hit “you people” as you read this] stopped demanding $21,000.

The most recent demand was for $36,000, so I probably should have been more clear.

Yesterday, I had my one year follow-up with the hip surgeon who had marked the one year anniversary of my crash by digging around my leg. It was a good meeting. The X-ray didn’t indicate that I was growing another [hit the word “another”] hip, so he was prepared to announce that there would be no more meetings.

“Wait, so that’s it? After two years? Will champagne be served!?” I replied.

That may be a slight embellishment. I actually would explain I was a little concerned that I still had a limp and wasn’t getting “range of motion” back.

He, in a very surgeon-ly, manner, would remind me that he told me before the surgery a year ago that my leg wouldn’t completely go back to the way it was before the crash. He encouraged me to actually do the flexibility stuff he told [hit the words, “do” and “told”] me to do a year ago and that would help, but I still wouldn’t completely go back to “normal.”

So I felt down on myself as I went about my day. I saw the mayor of Fort Worth at a thing. She asked how everything was going. I explained I was a little glum from the doctor’s appointment [“They didn’t even serve champagne!”]. She then commented on how well I’m getting around now, saying that after seeing me after the crash, she didn’t imagine there would come a time when I’d be walking with just a slight limp.

Then I felt better.

Then I got home to another bill.

This one was for even more than the last one! Apparently, debt collectors get together in darkened rooms, wearing green visors and shirts with armbands and say, “Hey, we got him to shell out 21 grand. Now, let’s try 36.”

So I called the guy. He had recently called me to ask why I wasn’t turning in workers comp information to Texas Health. I told him there was no workers comp claim. It was just insurance.

“Oh yeah. I think you’re the one who laughed and said the car crash was turning into a crash course on how to handle bureaucracy.”

He’s right. I do have a way with words. How could they deny a workers comp claim that didn’t exist?!

But he made me feel better, too, by telling me I would absolutely not [hit the word, “not”] pay $36,000. Instead, he gave me a very detailed explanation of the bureaucracy that, I swear, involved a hearing with the Texas Department of Insurance.

The Texas Department of Insurance, for crying out loud!

Regardless, he said this sort of thing happens sometimes, and Texas Health would work it out with the insurance company. He did encourage me, though, to keep all my car crash paperwork for another three years, so those garbage bags filled with paper in my guest room aren’t going anywhere.

One takeaway, though: I like putting [hit the word ***] in brackets instead just putting the actual word in italics. I think I’m going to start using that more.