The Curious Case of the Medical Bill

In which our Heroine speaks to Kathy the Insurance Lady. 

Today I sat amidst a sea of indecipherable papers detailing my numerous medical expenses and who should be paying what, where, and when.  I was so confused.  Luckily, I know someone who works in a doctor’s office.  With her reliable advice, I cleared up my issues—which, sadly, were mostly of my own error.  Here is a small and probably incomplete list of the things I have learned today about medical billing:

1.       Always speak to the secretaries and insurance handlers with the utmost respect, patience, and humility.  Laugh at their jokes.  Be willing to let them ramble on and on about things you actually do already understand in the hope that the things you don’t know will surface somewhere in there too.   You’ll be surprised at what you learn.

2.       The secretaries in your Doctor’s office can be your ally if you let them.  It would be a mistake to either disregard them, or to regard them as the money-seeking enemy.  They probably get paid by the hour, not specifically by what you do or don’t pay on that day. 

3.       It is okay to pay $20 or so into a bill that you don’t think is your responsibility in order to keep it from going to the collection agency.  If it goes there, you will probably have them calling you and sending you mail for the rest of your life—and it will bring down your credit score.  If the insurance company comes through, you will be reimbursed the $20, so no loss. 

4.       Apparently Alaska plays by its own rules when it comes to medical billing.  You may catch yourself thinking for a moment that this is just an easy excuse for the insurance people to get around clearly explaining their fiscal responsibilities—but let’s face it—they’re probably right. 

5.       Get a notebook to document all medical correspondence.  It is important to write down the date and the name of the person you spoke with.  Take notes on everything that is said.  This is also useful for taking notes when in hospital or visiting the doctor, and you won’t feel as stupid later.

6.       Hospitals can’t charge you money until you have been officially discharged.  Therefore, the dates on your bills may be somewhat confusing.  This may lead you to think that the problem bill shouldn’t be included in your out-of-pocket maximum when it actually should. 

7.       Don’t forget to look for the very unapparent watermark “COPY” across your medical mail.  You may not have to do anything at all with the thing.  Instead, it may just be a notice that something unfathomable happened between your hospital and your insurance company—a transaction that has your name on it, but for which you curiously have no responsibility. 

8.       Try not to have brain surgery.  It just complicates things.

Why Insurance Companies Hate Me

In which our Lady uses her insurance—and how.

There’s nothing like getting a bill in the mail for $76,066.85.  And it doesn’t even include my ER venture at Mat-su Regional, any check-ups and Dr.’s visits, or even the actual surgery.  76 K for a week long stay, including an expensive ACC visit for 24 hours (21 K—and for what? The Bolshevik Revolution, apparently) Remember, I didn’t have to go through chemo and radiation, so none of those would-be expenses are included either.   Thankfully, my out of pocket maximum is only $1000, so as soon as I convince my dubious health insurance company that they are indeed my primary and only hope for coverage, I should be able to keep out of the poorhouse a little longer.  This is why you have good insurance, people.  Sadly, this summer Jon and I had made the goal to take out a life insurance policy under my name during this October (now), which is PFD season (free money!) here in Alaska.  Just a little 100,000 policy in case Jon should need to pay for day-care in the event of my death.  It was next in line after doing such grown-up things as buying a house and getting a new(er) car, things we’d done in the spring.  I’d even already had a friendly chat with an insurance agent.  Somehow, I doubt MetLife will insure me now.  So much for that idea…

The Heist

In which our Lady of the Pocketbook discovers two Things

1.        My mom flew away on a big jet plane last night.  This morning I woke feeling energetic but a bit frightened.  Could I be a lone parent all day long until Jon got home tonight at six?  I determined I was up to the challenge.  Besides, what choice did I have?  So, I showered, got Eva up and dressed, and pretended I could handle it.  My mother’s lifelong motto is “fake it ‘til you make it,” and that’s just what I was doing.  It was somewhere in the middle of making pancakes while loading the dishwasher while stabbing my syrupy pancake with a fork that I realized I might want to take a step back for a few days/weeks/months and “fake it” less.  Most of my pancakes burned and I was still hungry by the time I managed to push the dishwasher’s ON button.  I think my cancerous archenemy has stolen my ability to multi-task. 

2.       Evil antagonist Cancer is also a money thief.  I received yet another bill yesterday, this time for expenses in the amount of $3,280 for a Dr. Madden.  Confusion set in as I realized I had no idea who this man was.  Not my brilliant neurosurgeon.  Not my anesthetist, who I spoke with for a total of 2 seconds before I passed out cold.  And then I saw the details: “Electrode Stim, Brain Add-on; Electrode Stimulation, Brain.” Huh.  Apparently I have been the victim of electrocution by expensive faceless person.  Dear me.  The plot thickens.  I imagine myself lying prone while being zapped and poked as different parts of my body jerk reflexively into the air.  Wait a minute—I suddenly remember peeling A LOT of odd looking patches off of my body a week later… Could that have been my first clue, easily missed because of the opiates?  Perhaps we’ll never know… I might expend some of my flagging energy and do some research into electrode stimulation if I actually had to pay the bill, but luckily I have fantastic insurance.  I will not press charges.