The phone rings, and I answer it.
Hello? Hi! May I please speak with Sophie?
This is her mother. Who may I ask is calling?
Oh, yes. I see the birthdate, here. This is Bessy from Anthem Blue Cross. I'm making a courtesy call to see whether you might like to sign up for our Case Manager Program.
You mean someone who might help me to get your company to respond appropriately to my daughter's doctor's medical orders?
No, Miz Aquino, the Case Manager can help you figure out your benefits and help to educate you about your daughter's healthcare needs.
You're kidding me right? (And now I just go into a long and boring story of how I've waited SIX WEEKS for my daughter to receive a necessary medical treatment for her seizures. Six weeks from diagnosis and doctor's orders to treatment.)
Would you like to sign up for the program?
Bessy, I appreciate the call, but frankly I don't have one whit of faith or confidence or trust in Anthem Blue Cross to do anything in my child's best interest. If a Case Manager can help me to expedite things through your systems, that would be great, and then I'd be happy to sign up.
Well, the Case Manager can't expedite things, but she can help you help your daughter with her chronic health condition. Wouldn't you just like to place one toll-free call to her?
No, thank you.
I hung up the phone. I don't want to beat a dead horse, but who, again, complained about healthcare reform by crying SOCIALISM! and I don't want any government hack coming between me and my doctor!
Final note: Perhaps, while you're reading this, Sophie and I will be at the infusion center, getting the necessary intravenous immunoglobulin for which we've waited not-so-patiently for almost six weeks. Let's all send a message to the universe that it helps --