You remember how I wrote about a particularly annoying doctor’s visit several months ago? (You don’t? It’s here.) Turns out, I was not finished with this saga. So once again, I am subjecting you to a rant about something not even slightly interesting. Sorry. TL;DR at the end.
So after my experience at that doctor’s surgery, I switched surgeries – thankfully one much closer and with appointments actually available at less than a week’s notice. This was fine, and dandy, and all sorts. I got my annual physical at my new place, where I got to see the clinician for more than two minutes and the whole process was not painfully drawn out and involving unnecessary paperwork. Awesome, right?
Except when I got my statement from my health insurer, saying the physical wasn’t covered as I’d already had an annual physical (and they only cover one a year). . . . . except of course I *hadn’t*. A brief call to the insurance, and I discover that the disaster visit had been classed as a physical, and that I’d need to call the doctor’s office to get them to resubmit the claim. (I should point out that I had received a statement with classifications on and shit, but I just looked at the bit where it said I didn’t owe any more money, rather than the unnecessarily confusing numbers. If I *had* read it properly, much of the headaches that follow could have been skipped).
So, I call them. After getting transferred through possibly every single phone in the office, I talk to a nice lady who after initially refusing to believe me when I say I did not receive a physical, eventually says she’ll need to confirm this with the doctor, but should be able to do that by the end of the week, and will reprocess it for me. Grand, says I.
While reorganizing our filing system a few days later – yes, my life *is* that glamourous – I find a visit statement from the office stating it was an office visit for a TB screen. Awesome, I think – proof just in case. A few days later, and I realise I’ve not heard from them, so call, leave messages, etc. Another few days, and I get through to her – point out the lovely piece of paper I’ve found, ask her if she’s had a chance to speak to the doctor. She’s not, and doesn’t need me to send her that as she can access it. Grand so, and she agrees to contact me by the end of the week.
I’m going to cut a long story short here – despite constantly promising to call me back, she doesn’t. I leave many, increasingly irate messages. I offer to drop in the receipt I have, to speak to someone else, to make an appointment with the damn doctor if I have to. I’m fobbed off and told it’s just going to take time.
SIX WEEKS later, I’m calling her again. This time I’m told that the record she has contradicts my receipt, so can I please fax it to her. I do so, increasingly annoyed. Another two weeks later, I’m still chasing this up. Finally, she calls me back: the first time in nearly two months. She admits that it was a complete error on their part, and resubmits the claim. Turns out they submitted a claim for nearly double the correct amount, and for the wrong doctor. I probably should have noticed that, but to be honest I saw the doctor for so little time he could have been a fucking martian.
Huzzah, I think, minor victory. Other claim will be paid out, everything sorted. Except, she submitted the corrected claim INCORRECTLY. So the insurer STILL can’t pay out the other claim. Oh, and I shouldn’t have paid a copay, as it was technically preventative care. So they owe me money. I am resigned to never seeing that money again. *sigh*.
So TL;DR – trying to get incorrect claims corrected is a real pain in the ass, especially when you can’t just leave the insurer and the provider to sort it out, and have to keep calling people who are apparently never in the office – or more likely screening your calls because you’re the crazy British lady who demands less bureaucracy and more actual medicine. In future, I think I might just drive up to Canada instead for some good old fashioned socialized healthcare.