One "gift" that I wish I could not have anything to do with... is dealing with the insurance company.
I have lost a lot, because of MS. My ability to play the organ. My ability to play the drumset. My ability to play the piano comfortably (inability to deal with the damper pedal, another leg/foot malfunction problem). My ability to drive. A few other abilities you would really prefer that I didn't share, and I won't; but merely let it be said that those abilities--I don't have them anymore.
And losing all of those is easier to deal with than the insurance company.
"We can't process this, you didn't supply the right alphabet-soup-acronym codes. But then again, you can't supply them, your doctor has to." But this thing I'm requesting reimbursement for, I didn't get from my doctor. He has nothing to do with it. "Oh. Well, you'll need your doctor to send us the codes." Repeat the previous two sentences for about a half an hour. Finally, "Oh! Then you'll want these other people to send us a form with the right codes." Great. Success. I call said other people, and ask them about said form. They know nothing about it. "We don't send those in," they say. "And that thing you bought? There's no code for it, so we can't submit it anyway."
And the insurers probably don't cover it anyway. And, since they don't feel like paying for it, they're also not going to apply it to my deductible. Why skip up a chance to screw you TWICE over the same claim?
So, anyway you look at it... I'm hosed, it would seem. You get nowhere if the forms aren't filled out (because, it would seem, they're incapable of reading English, only numbers), if the forms can't be filled out because the charge codes don't exist, you're completely out of luck. They don't know you, but they know that you shouldn't receive that treatment; or it's OK for you to receive that treatment but not from that person... whom they also don't know.
I am suddenly reminded of Matthew 25, 42-46:
The Good Book also says, "Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord." Well, as satisfying as it might be, watching them wracked with divine vengeance won't make me feel better; I would trade their stint in everlasting perdition, gladly and in less than a second, for some compassion and decent, intelligent service.
Which, y'know, in this day and age, really shouldn't be that hard to get.
No comments:
Post a Comment