ZOT ZOT ZOT

It is December 2009. I am still with United Healthcare. What I didn't know is that the health care plan had undergone several "beneficial" changes in September 2009, unbeknown to the majority of graduate students currently being "covered" by this plan.

As some of you may know, California is broke. Since I attend one of its fine institutions for higher education, many changes have been occurring on campus.
1) Payroll cuts for most UC employees.
2) Furlough days for many of the UC staff.
3) Budget cuts, including but not limited to: taking away coffee and cookies from our chemistry seminars, taking away our annual chemistry department holiday party (while still allowing the biology department to have theirs), and changing the graduate student health care plan to the cheapest, most terrible plan possible.
4) Re-landscaping the entire campus with non-native, non-water efficient plants (this obviously has nothing to do with saving money, but I did want to point out the irony).

But I digress...on to the health care plan changes.

Our plan through United Healthcare is a PPO. A PPO means that you get to go to any doctor you want, including specialists, without a referral unless required by the individual doctor. You pay a copay when you go, in addition to a percentage of the amount for the specialty services rendered. If the doctor is not a preferred provider, you pay a higher amount. Regardless of the details, the point is that you are covered by the PPO plan when you choose to go to a doctor.

My health care plan with United Healthcare was a PPO both in name and spirit from September 2007 to September 2009. After that point, it became a PPO in name only. Problem: Nobody told us.

Anyways, I was having severe gastrointestinal problems that had been ongoing for about four months, so I headed on over to my general practitioner's office for a check-up (which is another blog entry in and of itself). My doctor also directed me to a lab to get some blood samples taken.

Two weeks later, I receive a bill from both the doctor's office and the pathology lab for the full amounts, both citing that the insurance company had denied payment because I had not received a referral from the Student Health Center on the UC Irvine campus. WTF? I had been going to the doctor before now and had never had to get a Student Health Center referral; I had never even been to the health center.

After looking into it, I had discovered that our graduate student caucus representatives had VOTED to take away our PPO privileges, while still calling our plan a PPO and without notifying us of these critical changes. Apparently, we have to go to the Student Health Center for ANY condition. If they think they can treat you there, they will refuse to give you a referral to a specialist. In addition, you cannot choose which doctor you see; they randomly assign one to you based on who is available during your appointment. This would be great if I had any ounce of faith in the mediocre Student Health Center medical staff...

Oh, and what does "zot" mean, you ask? According to UC Irvine, it's the noise that the anteater mascot makes. Yes; it makes as much sense as my health care plan, also devised by UC Irvine.

At this point I had around $700 of bills looming over my head. Did I fight this? You bet your bootay I did.

Stay tuned...

Pathology Lab Hoedown

The year is 2008. It is October. In September of 2007, my health insurance changed from PacifiCare to United Healthcare. Keep these easily understood tidbits of information in the back of your mind.

I went to the dermatologist to get some moles removed (super exciting). Everything went smoothly, and I exited after paying my $15 copay. There was a claim made by the dermatologist's office (which actually went as planned) and another by the pathology lab that processed my lovely mole samples for any signs of cancer (benign by the way, do not fear!).

One month later, I received a letter from PacifiCare (not my current healthcare provider, mind you) explaining that they had denied the claim from the laboratory because I was no longer subscribed with them. "Well, duh," I said to myself. A week later I received the bill from the the pathology lab for $700, indicating that my insurance company had denied the claim. I called them up, explaining that I had not been covered by PacifiCare in over a year, and to please bill United Healthcare instead. They apologized and left me feeling as though all had been resolved.

A month later, the scenario described above repeated itself. A letter from PacifiCare was followed by a bill from the pathology lab for $700. I called, explained, and left the conversation feeling resolved...

Every month, for the next SEVEN months, the same thing happened. I had called PacifiCare, United Healthcare, and the dermatologist, all in an effort to figure out if it was someone else's fault that the pathology lab could not bill my actual insurance company. It was not someone else's fault...

EIGHT months after my dermatologist visit, the lab actually resolved the issue. It is now June 2009. I was now receiving calls from bill collectors. By now I was being less than cordial towards the receptionist at the pathology lab. One day, the light bulb turned on inside the dim head of one of the lab's sub-intelligent miscreants. "OOOOHHHH, you don't have PacifiCare anymore?" she exclaimed, in wonderment and awe. Somehow, this had not been clear the last SEVEN times I had called and explicitly asked them to bill United Healthcare.

How this debacle occurred is a mystery to me even to this day. I was with PacifiCare for only one year, and had never had any work done by the dermatologist or any pathology lab during that time. How this pathology lab had even received my PacifiCare information was mind-boggling.

Woe is me.

Jacuzzi Death Virus

It was a pleasant Sunday for all along the Southern California coastline. Accompanied by several of my fellow grad students, I enjoyed a peaceful day at the beach. When we were leaving, we had the fantastic idea of going back to one of our apartment complexes to do some hot tubbing. We went our separate ways to scrounge for dinner, and then met up at the hot tub around 8 pm. There were about ten of us in attendance. We socialized, laughed...and we lived!

The following Monday morning was nothing out of the ordinary. We all went to work, enjoying the satisfaction and glory that only a few can appreciate as what comes with being a chemistry Ph.D. student. Following work, we all went home.

And then....it was 10:30 pm. That was the moment we all got the jacuzzi death virus. There is something I must tell you about said virus. It does not discriminate against anyone. All ten of us fell ill at exactly 10:30 pm on Monday evening. We had fevers of 105F, initial vomiting, intense dizziness, nausea, and a feeling like our lungs were filled with a toxic gas that made it difficult to breathe. At first I thought it was something I ate, but over the course of the next 24 hours of communication, we had finally realized that it had happened to all of us that had gone to the jacuzzi on Sunday night.

I was the first to go to the walk-in clinic. I told them I had a fever of 105F and that I was vehemently sick. They gave me some paperwork to fill out and sent me to the waiting room. I felt like I was dying, and all I could manage to do was lay on the ground and cry. The other patrons in the room tried not to stare (or help). I finally got called in, and they weighed me. Two days earlier, I had been 5'4" and 117 lbs. Today I was 108 lbs. Needless to say, this was not good; I could not afford to lose any more weight.

The doctor looked in my nose, saw that it was plugged, and proclaimed that I had a cold. I told her that I had been crying for the last 3 hours, and that I did not have a cold. She scowled at me, barking "why are you crying???!?" I explained that I felt like I was dying and had a high fever in addition to the trouble with my lungs. After confirming that I had a fever, she gave me some Tylenol and explained that I must have the flu, because everyone else had the flu. I explained that there were ten of us that had all gotten sick following exposure to the jacuzzi, and she said it was probably because of something we ate. I told her we didn't eat together and she said it was because we drank too much and were hungover. I told her I didn't have anything to drink, and she said that somebody at the jacuzzi had the flu and that we all must have contracted it. She also told me that you can't get sick from a jacuzzi. Unfortunately, facts and logic beg to differ. My phone rang during our visit as I was expecting my boyfriend to come pick me up and he didn't know how to get there (which I explained to the doctor). The doctor immediately became irate and informed me that she would leave if I answered the phone. I silenced it, and she told me to leave. I was too delirious and emaciated to argue.

Anyway, all ten of us eventually made it to the doctor, and every one of us was told that we had the flu because "everyone else had the flu." After doing some research (as chemists, I like to thing that we are at least partially competent enough to determine the scientific validity of what diseases we might have, based on facts), we had all come to the conclusion that we most likely had a virus known as Pontiac fever. This is a milder form of the more widely publicized Legionnaire's disease, and can only be confirmed by a blood test. Grad student F brought this up to her doctor, who replied, "I don't know what Pontiac fever is, but you don't have it." How can you know if someone has something if you don't know what it is? You can't. Grad student T was given Tamiflu by his doctor, and upon taking it became violently sick and ended up developing a serious and recurring cough. A few of us asked for the blood test, and all requests were denied by the doctors (all of which admitted to having no knowledge of any diseases that could be caused by a public hot tub). The last couple of our group that made it in were greeted by remarks along the lines of, "oh, you're one of them." We had inadvertently become notorious throughout the local hospitals and clinics.

I was on my back for an entire week before I could get up and walk around. The sickness in my lungs hung around for a good month following the ordeal. We never confirmed that it was Pontiac fever, but we also never confirmed that it was the flu. We complained to the apartment complex about their jacuzzi, but they informed us that somebody cleans it once a week (public spas should be checked daily!) so that this was an unlikely occurrence. They closed the spa for a week until the cleaning crew came by, but other than that they did nothing.

I found the complete ignorance and lack of caring on the part of at least five different doctors to be utterly appalling. We were violently sick and looking to them for help, and all they could do was sneer at us from atop their self-entitled pedestals.

As I left the doctor's office that evening, feeling dejected and abused, I pulled out my wallet to pay my $15 co-pay. The desk attendant informed me there would be no co-pay, so I staggered out of the building and into my boyfriend's car. A week later, I received a bill from the clinic in the amount of $15. FML.

Health Insurance Romance: A Tale of Woe

Have you ever had a health insurance debacle? In my line of work, the answer is almost always a resounding YES. (and I use the term "debacle" lightly)

As a lowly chemistry Ph.D. graduate student at one of the fine institutions within the University of California system, my expectations for health insurance are low. I do not expect the amazing. I do not expect the extraordinary. I do not even expect the occasional fortuitous surprise.

I do however, expect the people involved in various levels of the health care process to put forth the minimal effort necessary to complete their job requirements. Apparently, this is asking too much.

I dream of the day when I can go to the doctor, have them bill my insurance, and have the insurance company pay their percentage...and then have that be the end of the story.

Fortunately for you (and unfortunately for me and several others), that has never been the end to my story. I have been failed at every level of the health care system to the point that it has now become blogworthy. The ridiculous nature of what I have had to deal with (and most likely will continue to deal with) is mind boggling; I would not wish this upon anyone. I shall be sharing my own stories as well as those belonging to some of my coworkers. These escapades traverse multiple insurance companies, diseases, prescriptions, doctors, treatments, diagnoses, and prescriptions. Nothing proceeds as it should. Murphy's law applies strongly to each tale. These are tales of abusive romance with our health insurance; although we are repeatedly torn down, we have the need to keep crawling back.

Stay tuned for the frivolity yet to unfold...