Wednesday, October 23, 2013

Gotta Love Insurance Companies. Sometimes.

So since my last post I've literally just been waiting for my insurances to get their shit together and approve my cardiac therapy. Honestly, my insurance companies and I have been in a love-hate relationship since I got diagnosed with my first auto immune disease at thirteen. When I say that, I mean that I love them on the rare occasions they do their job without a battle and hate them the rest of the time. Throughout this whole new mess I've just been waiting for them to dig their heels in and be their typical pain in the ass selves. I was seriously hoping it wouldn't be when we finally started to see the light at the end of the tunnel, but I'm not surprised at all that this is how it played out.

I have two insurances, I'm really lucky in that. I have one through my dad and one through my stepdad. Obamacare saved my ass, no joke. My dad's insurance is the one I've been battling with since thirteen. If I have a script from a doctor for a valid diagnosis they're supposed to cover it fully. You'd think this would be pretty straight forward, right? Wrong. The first time my cardiac specialist called they tried getting away with saying cardiac therapy wasn't used for POTS, even though the script came from the hospital that's recognized internationally as the cardiac specialists to see. Since they outsource everything now the poor man was from India and had no medical knowledge, so arguing got us nowhere. With my secondary insurance, they cover treatment in network, and once my deductible has been met, they're supposed to pay for everything in full. First they said my cardiac center was out of network (wrong), then that my deductible hadn't been met (wrong again) and that they could only cover eighty percent (lies). The problem with all of these arguments, other than being dead wrong, is the fact that they've tried all of these tactics with me before. And lost. Every time. You'd think they'd learn their lesson. Last time my primary insurance tried something along these lines I had them send me a copy of my policy in writing. I highlighted all the sections they were violating, threw in copies of the laws they were violating as well and put in my attorney's card. I told them they could either do their job or I'd see them in court. They've been incredibly helpful since then up til now.

I think my cardiac specialist is used to dealing with this kind of nonsense too, though, because when I went in to see him today he outlined a plan for everyone to get involved to make them cover my therapy. I like this man. He said he'd try one more time calling both insurances, and I should call my team at the Cleveland Clinic. He also suggested having both my dad and my stepdad call Human Resources at their jobs and have them get in contact with the insurances to put more corporate pressure on them. I like this style. It's a lot more subtle than my last encounter but just as effective. And probably more gentle. And warm, fuzzy feeling inducing. At least it was for me, since it worked. I was ready to kill something or someone til Chris (cardiac specialist) called and said we were in business. I was waiting to get my blood drawn for a Thyroid lab and did a little happy victory dance and a fist pump in the waiting room. Got a really perturbed look from an elderly couple. It happens.

So because Chris is a genius I start cardiac therapy on Friday. And I'm positive I'll be getting all sorts of weird looks, seeing as I'm about thirty to forty years younger than everyone else in my group. When I dropped off paperwork earlier today the therapist asked me what my relation to Chris was or whom I was representing. I got an unbelieving look when I said, "I'm his patient...". Alright, just because I refuse to use a walker, a cane or a wheelchair and I use subtle ways to take care of my health does not make me any less sick! And since when do I look like a lawyer? I was wearing jeans, a tee shirt and my leather jacket. Not a suit. I didn't say anything, though. They'll see for themselves when I'm hooked up to the monitor on Friday. They can give me all the looks they want, I don't care. I'M STARTING THERAPY!!! Only a year and a half down the road. Maybe I can get back to work part time in a couple months, wouldn't that be great??

It's almost surreal to me to think that I'm actually starting the road to recovery. I understand how much I'll have to work at everything (including my patience) but I'm so relieved that I'm at this point. I'm so ready to get back into the arts and school and work. I'm so grateful that I was lucky enough to find doctors and therapists willing to fight for me after so many months of not getting anywhere. I'm making a list of people that are going to be getting special gifts this holiday season, even though there's no way I can ever put into words how much their kindness and support means to me. I just hope they understand. They're giving me my life back. There's no other way to put it. They deserve a medal. Or a trophy. Or a plaque. Maybe a statue? Might be a little creepy and hard to deliver. I'll think of something though, don't you worry.

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