HAIRSHIRT
Helping You Get the Most Out of Your Misery
|
HAIRSHIRT Helping You Get the Most Out of Your Misery |
|
Friday, November 10, 2006Coverage
Since I work for the City of New York--making me what you might call a "public employee," I've always figured my insurance was going to be sub-par. Teachers never get the really cool insurance, the kind that pays for weekly massages or an ass-lift.
But I've never really had all that much problem with what I've got. Sure, the dentist I picked from their list turned out to be a sub-par kickback-taking quack who worked quickly and carelessly, leaving half of my face bruised for a week when he gave me a filling. (He also assured me--I would assume at the instruction of his insurance company masters--that of course I didn't need to have my wisdom teeth removed. Never mind that my old dentist had wanted to do it as soon as possible and never mind that I occasionally get incredible pain back there.) For the most part, though, I've been able to get what I need taken care of with relatively little fuss. Dealing with our miscarriage issues, though, has proven a little trickier. We've had problems getting coverage for a shot my wife has to have--notice I said "has to"; not "enjoyed getting" or "might find nice", but "has to". An asshat pharmacist actually screamed at my poor wife when she insisted that our insurance company had told her they covered it. So we were a bit nervous when my wife found a very reputable reproductive endocrinologist near where she works. See, she works way the hell out on Long Island and it's absolute hell for her to try to get back to the city for a doctor's appointment. She set up an appointment with this guy and then we found out this week that his office was now apparently not accepting my insurer. So we were faced with the question: do we cancel and find another RE who does accept my insurance? Do we keep the appointment with this guy who's supposed to be very good and just pay out of pocket, hoping that we don't have a buttload of expensive tests? Do we kidnap an RE and force him to treat us for free as we keep him chained in our basement? (Actually, that was never a real option. We don't have a basement.) We decided we had to keep the appointment. We'd been waiting it for a long, long time. I took the train out to Long Island and we drove to the office. We sat down with the billing person to register my wife as a new patient. And the lady informed us that, as of yesterday around 5PM, they'd straightened out whatever problem they'd had and were now once again accepting my insurance company. My wife and I practically leapt for joy. We'd been fearing great big mounds of bills. This was, I've got to say, as big a relief as Rumsfeld's resignation. And then, on top of that, the RE seems to really know his shit. (Wow, what a great way to describe one's doctor.) This week has been so inspirational to me, in fact--with the insurance and the election and the Spears/Federline divorce--that, this afternoon, I finally got off my ass and did about a hundred tasks I'd been putting off for fucking ever. Thanks, Group Health Incorporated!
|
|
|||
| . | |||||
