Still Alive, Still Suffering… So No One’s Accountable?

Anyone who knows me knows one thing, I don’t like to sit still.

I’m always moving. Work, play, doesn’t matter. Sitting around has never been part of who I am.

So if you know me… you know I’m not just struggling right now, I’m barely holding it together.

I can’t work. I can barely drive and when I do, it’s honestly dangerous.

Watching TV? Forget it. The only way I can even tolerate it is laying down or slouched forward, forcing my head down just to avoid triggering the pain.

Because the second I’m upright…

A violent surge of pain and pins and needles that shoots through my arm and into my hand.

The only way I can describe it? It feels like high-voltage electricity is running through my arm.

And I don’t say this lightly, this is the worst pain I’ve ever experienced in my life.

These blogs… they’re not just posts for fun. They’re my outlet. My pressure valve. Because without this release? My mind goes to some very dark places.

I’m not well. And I’m not even sure people understand how fast things are slipping mentally.

Even something as simple as walking Coda has become a challenge.

There’s no clear end in sight. No plan. No direction. No timeline.

At this point, I’m seriously looking at leaving the country for surgery… Panama, Mexico… wherever someone will actually do something.

And yeah, I hesitated. Draining savings for surgery in another country isn’t exactly a casual decision.

But let me ask you something… What’s the price of getting your life back?

I need to say something that not enough people see.

My wife. She works all day teaching. Which, let’s be honest, isn’t the same job it used to be. It’s harder. More stressful. More demanding.

And then? She goes straight to the restaurant. Not for a paycheck. Not for recognition.

She does it so the business doesn’t fall apart. She does it so someone’s there to answer questions. She does it to make sure everything’s handled, right down to checking that the ovens and fryers are turned off at night.

She asks for nothing. She doesn’t complain. She just… shows up.

Every single day.

So I’m asking, if you see her, be kind. Be patient. And if you’re able, help out where you can.

Because I promise you, this isn’t the life she imagined when she said “I do.”

This isn’t marriage. This isn’t spending time with your husband, this is struggling to stay afloat while everything around you crashes.

And yeah… I’ve been thinking about malpractice. Because where do you even go from here? My family can’t sue anyone, I’m still alive.

So what am I supposed to do?

Just keep going? Keep waiting? Keep suffering?

Let me walk you through what “doing everything right” looks like:

Chiropractor.

Primary care physician.

X-rays.

Physical therapy.

Neurosurgeon.

MRI.

Second neurosurgeon.

CT scan.

EMG.

Pain management.

Two epidural injections.

Orthopedic spine surgeon.

And somehow… Here I am. Sitting in my basement, unable to do much of anything but fight off the darkness.

While the people who were supposed to help me go home, enjoy their weekends, and live their lives.

I don’t know where the breakdown is. I don’t know why no one has a plan.

But I do know this… Something is wrong.

The MRI shows it. My body proves it.

And every day… it’s getting worse. And yet… nothing.

If you made it this far, thank you.

Seriously. Because right now, being heard means more than anything.

And if you didn’t make it this far…

Well, I guess you’ll never know how much I appreciated you anyway.

The Biggest Scam in America – Health Insurance

Let me explain modern healthcare as I experienced it today.

I drove nearly two hours through fog and black ice to see a specialist approved by my insurance. Two hours gripping the wheel, hoping the roads stayed clear enough to make it there safely. Two hours because I was told this was the provider I had to see.

The appointment lasted six minutes.

Six.

It took longer to walk across the parking lot than it did to discuss my condition, my pain, or the questions I’ve been carrying for weeks. I left with more uncertainty than answers, more frustration than relief, and the same pain I arrived with, just now paired with exhaustion and irritation.

And somehow, this is considered acceptable healthcare.

I am told I cannot be seen by a qualified provider forty minutes from my home because of “coverage rules,” yet a two-hour drive is apparently reasonable. Risk, fatigue, weather, missed work, and physical strain don’t factor into decisions made behind desks by people who will never meet the patient affected.

This isn’t healthcare. This is logistics management disguised as care.

Government oversight and insurance bureaucracy have turned treatment into a maze where the patient is the only one expected to sacrifice time, comfort, and safety just to receive the bare minimum of attention. Every step requires approval. Every approval requires justification. Every justification feels like begging for permission to get better.

Meanwhile, pain doesn’t wait for paperwork.

Illness doesn’t care about provider networks.

And healing certainly doesn’t happen on a six-minute timer.

Remember “55 Strong”? Lately it feels more like “55 Weak.” What exactly are West Virginia teachers paying for? Because years later, many are still asking the same question: what was actually fixed? The strike ended, but the healthcare problems never did.

Patients were promised stability. What they received was confusion, denials, and longer drives for shorter answers. And a PEIA Benefits Tier that doesn’t even make sense to those trying to explain it.

And then comes the moment that perfectly sums it all up.

The doctor asked if I had any questions.

That may have been a mistake.

Because when you spend hours traveling for minutes of care, questions come with opinions. Real ones. Honest ones. The kind that don’t fit neatly into appointment time slots. I’m still not sure whether patients can be banned from hospitals, but apparently asking direct questions about your own health makes people uncomfortable. And unable to be answered.

What’s most frustrating isn’t just the inconvenience, it’s the message underneath it all: efficiency matters more than outcomes, policies matter more than people, and distance on a map matters more than continuity of care.

Patients are told to be patient. To trust the system. To accept delays, denials, and decisions that make no practical sense.

But after today, I’m done pretending this system is functioning the way it was intended.

Because when getting treatment feels harder than being broken, something is fundamentally wrong.

The Great Car Insurance Shell Game

Let’s talk about car insurance.

Not the idea of it, because yes, we all agree it’s necessary.

I’m talking about the financial hostage situation we politely call “coverage.”

For 2025, here’s what I paid with State Farm:

March: $650.78 June: $624.39 September: $779.73 December: $637.52

Total for the year: $2,692.42

That’s not Monopoly money.

That’s real, grown-ass, worked-for-this cash.

And what do I get for that?

Two vehicles fully covered. One vehicle liability only. One 18-year-old driver (Yes, I know—insurance companies clutch their pearls when you say that out loud.)

Now before the keyboard warriors warm up, let’s address the obvious.

Yes, younger drivers cost more.

I get it. Risk tables. Statistics. Actuarial science. Fine.

But here’s where it gets spicy….

Let’s Do the Long-Game Math

I’ve been insured for 15+ years.

One claim.

Not one per year.

Not one per vehicle.

One.

Now take that annual premium and stretch it over 15 years.

That’s just over $40,000 in car insurance alone. And suddenly you start asking uncomfortable questions:

Where exactly is all that money going? At what point does “risk” turn into profit padding? Is my premium fixing roads… or upgrading someone’s third vacation home?

Because when you’re paying over $2,600 a year, that’s about $224 a month, every month, whether anything happens or not.

That’s not “just in case” money. That’s rent payment energy. That’s vacation money. That’s new tires, groceries, or fixing literally anything that breaks money.

Here’s the illusion they sell us:

“You’re paying for peace of mind.”

Cool…. But peace of mind shouldn’t feel like financial anxiety with a logo on it.

And what really grinds my gears (pun fully intended) is this:

The safer and more responsible you are, the less you actually use the service, yet the bill never seems to reflect that loyalty.

No refunds for good behavior. No loyalty discount that actually feels loyal.

Just a cheerful reminder that rates “may increase due to market conditions.”

Ah yes. The Market.

The same mysterious creature blamed for everything from gas prices to why your fries cost six dollars now.

So… Is It Fair? Is $2,692.42 fair for:

Three vehicles. One young driver. A long, clean driving history.

Maybe. But fair doesn’t mean reasonable. And reasonable doesn’t mean justifiable when the math stops mathing.

At some point, consumers deserve transparency. At some point, loyalty should count.

At some point, we should stop pretending this isn’t a system built to quietly extract maximum dollars while smiling at you through a khaki-colored commercial.

Car insurance is supposed to protect us.

Not slowly bleed us dry while congratulating us for being responsible.

And when you step back and look at decades of payments versus actual claims…

Yeah. It makes you wonder.

Now Zoom Way Out… State Farm alone services roughly 96 million policies across America.

If someone like me pays about $40,000 over 15 years, that puts the industry conversation into perspective.

That’s trillions of dollars moving through the system.

Trillions. 3.4 trillion to be exact!

So the real question becomes:

How many yachts are the American people funding and why do my rates keep going up?

Busted Back, Broken System: How WV PEIA Turned My Medical Emergency Into a Bureaucratic Nightmare

Imagine living with a herniated disc, two annular tears, nerve pain that shoots down your leg like fire, and a foot so numb it might as well not exist. Now imagine being told the surgery you need won’t be covered—not because it’s unnecessary, not because the doctor isn’t qualified, but because the treatment is 40 minutes away in a different state.

When your spine breaks down, you expect your insurance to step up. Instead, PEIA stepped aside and left me hanging—literally.

Welcome to my life with WV PEIA insurance.

I didn’t twist my ankle or pull a muscle. I’ve got a herniated disc at L4-L5, a bulging disc at L3-L4 with desiccation (that means the disc is drying out and crumbling), and two annular tears. The nerves in my lower back are so compressed I get numbness and burning sensations down my right leg. My foot? Useless. I can barely walk. Work? Out of the question. Exercise? Forget it.

The pain is constant. The frustration? Even worse.

I Did Everything Right—and Still Got Denied

I followed the rules.

I did physical therapy—even when it made things worse.

Multiple times, the disc shifted during PT and left me stuck on the table for hours, unable to move.

I tried cortisone injections. Nothing helped.

Eventually, the doctors ordered an MRI.

But instead of imaging my lumbar spine, where the pain actually was, they ordered an MRI of my thoracic spine—the wrong body part.

When I flagged the mistake, the insurance company told me I’d be responsible for the bill unless the doctor admitted fault. Spoiler alert: he didn’t.

Insert failed treatment here.

Hope in Pittsburgh—Then, a Kick in the Gut

I finally found a specialist in Pittsburgh—just 40 minutes from my home in West Virginia. A real doctor. One who listened, ordered the correct MRI, and confirmed what I already knew: I needed surgery.

A couple nerve block injections got me through the worst of the days, but we were finally at the step that could actually fix me.

And that’s when PEIA dropped the hammer.

They told me I’d be responsible for $85,000 of the surgery costs.

Why?

Because even though the doctor is in-network, he’s out-of-state.

And apparently, that’s all it takes for PEIA to slash your coverage and pretend your deductible doesn’t exist.

So not only would they cover less, but they refused to apply anything I’d already paid toward my deductible—because it wasn’t in West Virginia.

I genuinely believe that might be illegal. And I intend to find out.

The Appeal Games: Rules Followed, Denied Anyway

I appealed. The hospital appealed. We met every criteria:

Proximity: My specialist is 40 minutes away. The PEIA-recommended providers? 2+ hours. Failed Local Treatment: My previous doctor ordered the wrong MRI, and all treatment attempts failed. Established Relationship: I’d been working with my Pittsburgh doctor for months. He was recommended by someone I trust.

All of it? Denied.

So we appealed again.

And were denied again.

Meanwhile, PEIA starts advertising a new perk—if you live in southern WV, you can now go to Cincinnati, Ohio for care.

That’s even farther than Pittsburgh for many people!

But if you’re in the northern panhandle, like me? You’re not allowed to go 30–45 minutes across the state line for excellent care.

Make it make sense. You can’t. Because it doesn’t.

The Truth About PEIA

Let’s call it what it is: garbage insurance.

PEIA isn’t designed to help patients—it’s designed to save money by denying care.

They put up red tape, hide behind technicalities, and leave patients like me in chronic pain, unable to work, and drowning in bills.

And I know I’m not the only one.

So here’s the deal:

If PEIA has denied your surgery…

If they’ve forced you to pay for their mistakes…

If they’ve told you “no” when you did everything right…

I want to hear your story.

Send it to me. Comment. Share this post. Whatever it takes.

It’s time to hold this system accountable. Because no one should have to fight this hard just to get their life back.

Insurance Fraud

I’m not the first person to experience the troubles of terrible insurance and I’m sure I won’t be the last to endure this fraudulent requirement!

I recently had an injury to my lower back. Two tears, two herniated discs and some other problems needing addressed. I went to a local doctor, who didn’t want to order an MRI. Instead, he wanted me to learn how to stretch and live with a bad back. Unacceptable right?

I found a new doctor, this doctor seemed to have the answers and was willing to help. Well help he did not provide. MRI was scheduled and I get the results only to see they did the MRI of the wrong part of my body.

The search continues! Now, under the care of a surgeon in a neighboring state, one that is considered a top notch facility with the best doctors in the state!

We started over, injections, therapy, pain management, and finally, surgery scheduled.

Seven days until my surgery and the hospital calls to inform me the insurance company will not cover the surgery because it is out of state! If you’re with me this far you know that the in-state doctors have repeatedly failed me up to this point. Reason I am in a bigger city and new state!

It is complete bull shit that an insurance company will not approve a needed surgical procedure, a procedure that is needed to allow me to be able to stand, walk, get back to work and have a quality of life that is worth a shit!

Instead, the insurance company says I’ll have to pay $40,000 up front to have the surgery, insert fraud here!

I understand now how people become addicted to pills and turn into degenerate drug addicts. I am young and have a very active lifestyle, but the pain level and injury doesn’t allow me to have the life I want or deserve.

So where do we go from here? That is the $40,000 question….. you are forced to have insurance, then you are penalized for using the insurance and most of the time your insurance denies your treatment…. so again, why are we paying for something that is so useless?

If you put it rationally, you wouldn’t pay for a household item you have no use for, so why pay for fraudulent insurance???