Boggle.
Boggle. It’s not just a fun game with lettered cubes, anymore!
If there is nothing clearly showing how the current health care system could possibly get more broken, it is this tiny – and mercifully minor – anecdote that could do it:
I received a doctor’s bill today. It was for my yearly exam and, surprise surprise, it was not being completely covered by my insurance company. Perhaps I am in the minority that I do not simply whip out a checkbook and pay whatever they say, because I question such things as why my insurance would not be covering a routine check-up. Scanning the codes and explanations made nearly no sense, so I resigned myself to The Call.
You know The Call – the one I’m talking about? The automated call whereby I have to keypad that I am, in fact, making this call, that I would like it in English, that I am a member of this fine insurance clientele with this long numeric and alphabetic code… No, really, this numeric and alphabetic code… THIS numeric and alphabetic code! I don’t care if you’re sorry and you don’t understand it, you @#$%^&?! machine! This is deifnitely my frickin’ code and so help me, I’ll press zero if you don’t transfer me to someone who can happily assist me right now!
(ahem)
So I finally got to speak to an agent who helpfully informed me that the portion not being covered was for an office visit on said date.
Blink?
“Of course there was an office visit… I was going for my yearly appointment,” I said. “At the doctor’s office.” (Thinking “Why wouldn’t this be covered…?”)
“No, the doctor billed for a separate office visit while you were there.”
“A separate office visit?” I said, trying to fathom what this was all about.
“It says you spoke about a separate subject.” The lady informed me. “It says, ‘incontinence.’” She added softly.
My brain went white as it clicked into place.
“Um… my doctor asked me if I noticed anything over the year, and I mentioned that I still pee while doing jumping jacks.” (It’s true. Not terribly unusual a thing after multiple pregnancies and intense physical training, but it’s awfully annoying and not very funny when it’s you and not a sitcom or SNL skit.) “He said that wasn’t normal and that I should call the other office.”
“Yes, and he billed you for it.”
Blink. Frown. “He charged me $110 for answering a question that he asked me?!”
“Seems that way.”
Believe it or not, for a moment, I was speechless.
“I’m sorry,” I began. “I don’t know what I can possibly say to that. That is unacceptable.”
The agent patiently repeated our entire conversation back to me as if that would clarify things.
“No, no,” I interrupted. “I get what’s happened, but it doesn’t make any sense. Because I answered a question during an exam, he charged me an extra fee to tell me to call back? That’s ludicrous.”
“Well, I agree,” she said confidentially. “But that’s what he did.”
“I see,” I said (even though I didn’t “see”). “Well, I’ll just have to call over there.”
Which I did.
The lady in the billing office listened to my tale and there was a blessedly audible pause before she said anything.
“I’m sure he didn’t think about deductibles,” she said gently. “He was just billing the insurance company.”
The greater ramifications of statements like these are not lost on me, or the fact that she was trying to make me feel better. I am fortunate that my husband and I are financially solvent, that we make money, have insurance and have good credit history. We are innocent in the various ways that this could be so terribly bad for people who are less fortunate than ourselves, or for our country as a whole that is supporting this sort of insanity in a system which banters about peoples’ money for no other reason than it can.
The doctor wasn’t billing me, no, no – he was just billing my insurance company, the giant monstrosity I have to bribe to never use from year to year. It wasn’t personal or anything; it’s between them. Right?
“Well, could you not do that?” I asked. “I mean, it may not seem like much, but $110 for answering a question hardly seems fair.”
She sounded understanding as she asked to put me on hold to speak to her supervisor. Then paused.
“Actually, let me call you back,” she said kindly. “I see that you’re calling from out-of-state. It should be within ten minutes.”
That was nice of her, I thought, as I hung up. She might think I was a poor, stay-at-home mom pinching pennies, but I appreciated the fact that this is, by and large, true.
She called back to say that her supervisor would be emailing a request to the doctor to remove that charge and she’d call me back within the week. She gave me her name. I thanked her and told her to have a nice day.
Oddly enough, I felt choked up at the end of the conversation. Unsettled. Either with frustration or mourning the very broken system that might be a minor inconvenience to me, but undoubtedly a major weight dragging down the necks and backs of thousands if not millions of other people just like me…
…and I just could have written a check.
It is a moment’s perspective that can boggle the mind.