IN THE UNLIKELY EVENT . . . HEALTH CARE PANIC

In the unlikely event this post goes viral, which is every blogger’s secret and not so secret wish, I’ll need to be precise.

How precise? Very.

As my longtime readers know, I write a personal blog about personal things to try and dial down the panic in case you ever face anything similar.

Sometimes it’s good things, sometimes not.

This one landed somewhere in between.

On my first day of chemo treatment for a nagging throat cancer I sat in the car while my wife drove.

I wouldn’t say I was  depressed mope, but driving down I-5 felt a little like agreeing to go to my execution.

With such thoughtful ideas running through my brain I wanted to do something positive to quell my feelings.

Instead of sitting there like a depressed mope, more or less, I called my insurance company to check on my authorization for the treatment.

I’d called them the day before and everything was set after going from one screening to another, getting a port surgically placed in my upper chest wall, and setting out.

I knew all the boxes were checked. My wife knew.

I called them regularly for any possible updates, wanting to hear it was all a big misunderstanding and I didn’t have neck cancer after all.

It was a highly unlikely event that my insurance coverage could be a problem.

 

Me: Uh huh. I see. Thank you. Goodbye.

Wife: Who was that?

Me: The insurance company. They just told me I’m not authorized for treatment, and that our health insurance had been canceled since the first of the year.

Wife: WHAT???

Me: Someone didn’t check a box, or checked a box that didn’t need a check. The clinic said I’m covered. The insurance said I was covered two days ago. It’ll sort itself out.

Wife: Here’s what’ll happen: the billing will get screwed up and we’ll be on the hook for hundreds of thousands of dollars. You can’t start chemo today.

Me: I’ll figure it out. Just drop me off and go to work.

Wife: I’ve got a full schedule.

Me: I’ll text when I find anything out.

 

Feeling Exposed

Instead of relaxing on the nice blue recliners in a peaceful suburban clinic with ten other people I got myself transferred to the hustle and hum of a metro hospital’s cancer floor.

The clinic nurse accessed the port so I’d show up for a plug and play of chemo and not worry about finding a specialist with time in their busy schedule.

I called a cab and waited at the curb with a gaggle of hoses taped to my chest and covered by my shirt.

I’ve never felt so vulnerable.

A hose could pop and I’d bleed out; we could crash, my hoses would rip out, and I’d bleed to death.

Nope. Nope. Nope.

I texted my wife when I’d be done and she picked me up on the way home from her office.

 

What To Do In The Unlikely Event Of A Health Panic

After the first go-round, in fact the next day, the insurance company reinstated me and apologized for any inconvenience.

The rest of the way out things went according to plan.

Go ahead and explain how these things happen and we need to roll with the punches, overcome the hurdles, blah, blah, blah.

One person losing their health insurance in the middle of a distressing time is an anecdote, one story in a million.

If, as we may or may not see, millions of people lose their health insurance you’ve got to figure some will be on their way to their first chemo, their first radiation, surgery, or therapy.

Sitting in the car with my wife driving on the way to chemo and hearing the bad news on coverage, I looked at her and thought, ‘She doesn’t deserve this.’

Each bad healthcare story has a ripple effect that soaks into everyone around them.

I got lucky with an alternative to someone’s screw up in an office somewhere.

Other’s won’t be so lucky.

I’ve got an exceptional wife; not everyone is so lucky.

Aging baby boomers gather and eventually tell their tales like older people throughout history.

If millions lose their insurance, if a huge swath of the unwashed lose their places in nursing homes and assisted living, those stories will be taking a dark turn.

I was one of them, briefly, and it was all I could do to tamp down the panic in that car, and it wasn’t all my wife.

If I had been denied insurance coverage for cancer treatment, then what?