So much of the insurance-getting process has felt like the college application process. The interminable form with "optional" essay portions, the sense that one's destiny is being handed over to nameless, faceless, soul-less beasts, and finally the constant checking of the mail.
Two days ago, I got my envelope from insurance company #2. And just as if it were from a college, I looked at it, and could tell by the fact that it was a thin letter envelope, and not a thick 9x12 one, that the news wasn't good. People, they rejected me. What's worse, they rejected me based on incorrect information. They said that I have "a history of removal of left breast fibroadenoma and no followup tests". Now come on, soul-less beasts, info about my follow-up tests is freely available on the interweb. (Also, soul-less beasts, it's 'follow-up', not 'followup'; when providing your reasons for ruining someone's dreams of an affordable Pap smear, don't be afraid to crack open a dictionary, mmm-kay?)
I have two favorite parts of the letter, other than the spelling error. One is the phrase "history of removal of left breast fibroadenoma", like I drop into the surgeon's office every few months and get someone to slice open my left boob and hunt up some lumps. Second is this sentence: "As you may already be aware, we are unable to offer you coverage." They didn't call me about this, and in fact, refuse to discuss it over the phone (even to tell me what, specifically, the doctor's office needs to provide to refute this). My status online didn't change. There is no way that I would have known, unless of course, they mean that clearly I am too disease-ridden to expect any sane company to insure me.
On what is most likely a related note, I had a dream the night before last in which I was trying to plan a storytime on death and dying, but was getting frustrated because I couldn't find the fun ones. I'm sure there's an opportunity for analysis there, but without insurance, how will I ever find out?
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Pick myself up, dust myself off...
After all the analysis, all the tearing of hair, all the frustration, I finally got accepted by the insurance company that I chose – but, get this, I screwed it up. I chose a decent plan with a major company. I knew from the way that their doctor search engine was set up that different plans had different networks. But I had searched a few times, and I did a dumb thing: I assumed. I know that to assume makes an ass out of me (I’ll leave you out of this), but I did it. I assumed that since my other searches had found two hospitals in CollegeTown in the plans, there would be at least one in the plan I ended up with.
In my defense, the assuming happened on a sub-conscious level. It wasn’t until I got the policy in the mail and looked at the brochure of network hospitals that my stomach dropped out and I realized that I had never looked up this specific plan’s network. Regardless, though, I had to start over again. There are a few doctors in the network here, but no hospital and no gynecologists. Out-of-network visits have a much higher deductible and only 50% coverage after the deductible. After I got done crying, I would occasionally wail to the husband “I am soooo stupid!” until he finally got tired of it, pointed out that I kept pointing out that the whole thing is slanted in favor of the companies, and asked, “Do you really think you’re that much smarter than everyone else?” To which I say: well, no, not exactly, except that yes, kind of. It’s not really that I thought I was smarter; it’s that I worked so hard on it. Working part-time left me able to focus a great deal of time and attention on this decision. It’s sort of pathetic that after all that I still screwed it up.
I’m trying to stop thinking that way though. I am focusing on being angry again. Fortunately, I have 30 days to cancel the plan without charges, as long as I don’t make any claims. I’m using that to get reinsured. I picked a different company, filled out another app, and this time got a call from the company minutes after clicking the “Submit to our will” button. (They only write the first word; the rest is implied.) The very nice woman who called transferred me to a surly woman in underwriting, who tried to give me fibrocystic breast disorder in my computer file, and if I had it in the file, I may as well have it in my boobs. Other than that though, things seemed to go smoothly, though I did get that question about whether there is a lump in my breast again. I am hoping to hear back soon, and with luck, I’ll be properly insured by next week. Cross your fingers that I stay healthy and unharmed between now and then.
In my defense, the assuming happened on a sub-conscious level. It wasn’t until I got the policy in the mail and looked at the brochure of network hospitals that my stomach dropped out and I realized that I had never looked up this specific plan’s network. Regardless, though, I had to start over again. There are a few doctors in the network here, but no hospital and no gynecologists. Out-of-network visits have a much higher deductible and only 50% coverage after the deductible. After I got done crying, I would occasionally wail to the husband “I am soooo stupid!” until he finally got tired of it, pointed out that I kept pointing out that the whole thing is slanted in favor of the companies, and asked, “Do you really think you’re that much smarter than everyone else?” To which I say: well, no, not exactly, except that yes, kind of. It’s not really that I thought I was smarter; it’s that I worked so hard on it. Working part-time left me able to focus a great deal of time and attention on this decision. It’s sort of pathetic that after all that I still screwed it up.
I’m trying to stop thinking that way though. I am focusing on being angry again. Fortunately, I have 30 days to cancel the plan without charges, as long as I don’t make any claims. I’m using that to get reinsured. I picked a different company, filled out another app, and this time got a call from the company minutes after clicking the “Submit to our will” button. (They only write the first word; the rest is implied.) The very nice woman who called transferred me to a surly woman in underwriting, who tried to give me fibrocystic breast disorder in my computer file, and if I had it in the file, I may as well have it in my boobs. Other than that though, things seemed to go smoothly, though I did get that question about whether there is a lump in my breast again. I am hoping to hear back soon, and with luck, I’ll be properly insured by next week. Cross your fingers that I stay healthy and unharmed between now and then.
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