It's a Health Insurance Miracle!

When my podcast partner, Jason Lehmbeck, heard about what happened last week with The Blue Shield of California first denying and then mysteriously covering Sophie's infusions of IVIG, he said, "It's an insurance miracle!" and somehow that one remark not only sent me into a gale of giggles but has sustained me ever since. That's the beauty of our community and of my partner -- he gets me, I get him and we get all of ya'll.

We recorded a catch-up podcast last week and hope that if you haven't yet checked out Who Lives Like This?! you will today. Jason and I didn't have a guest on but rather caught each other and our listeners up on what's been going down in our lives. We talked about our kids and highlighted The Siblings. We also hashed out which episodes had most affected us or that stuck out for us personally. For me it was the discussion with Josh Fyman, a father of a severely disabled young girl and his family's decision to place her in a residential setting instead of caring for her at home. This is a topic that has always made me squirm in discomfort. I have strong opinions, as you know, and I thought I felt pretty unequivocally about this subject. What happened, over the course of the podcast and then for weeks afterward, was a kind of mind and heart opening. I don't know how to explain it in any other way, but I do know that Josh and Jason and I talked about what seems like an impossible thing to talk about, and my heart and my mind were opened. That's all I'll say about that, but I encourage you to listen to the podcast.



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"Your 2018 health plan information is coming" and it's MAGA!

So, I got a missive from Anthem Blue Shield last week that I opened with a sinking feeling. Those of you who know that despite living in the land of "the world's greatest healthcare system," having individual insurance is a clusterfuck of gargantuan proportions. This has nothing to do with the Affordable Care Act, other than its concessions to private health insurance companies. That's a whole other post, and you know where I stand, anyway. #singlepayerforall

No communication from Blue Shield is met with anything but dread, despite their polite and even cheerful marketing efforts.

Here's the latest:

First of all, "Here are a few things you can do now to get ready" ?????!!!!!

Here's how I'd rewrite the three suggestions and then add a fourth:

1. Be on the lookout for two separate mailings: one with your 2018 plan information and one with your 2018 rates. Make sure you review all the information but only after going FIRST to your freezer, pulling out the frozen vodka and taking a couple of shots. This is particularly important for the envelope regarding your new rate. 
2. Visit our friendly website and take notice of its new look -- all the models are preternaturally beautiful and multi-racial. In fact, they are actual customers of ours, particularly pliant conservative Americans who've bought into the notion that medicine is a business and that we're in the best position to dictate how the whole shebang is run. They're so snowed that we killed them off with their permission and replaced them with look-alike robots. In lieu of increased rates, you'll see that you, too, will be given an option to be killed instead and replaced by a beautiful person in any race you choose. Think about it! After all, the stress of the increased rates might kill you anyway, so why not be preserved in service of other good Americans who "don't want the gov'ment messing with my healthcare!"
3. Mark your calendar with these important dates! October 2017: Start drinking a lot of frozen vodka. November 2017: Open enrollment begins! Remember the option of being replaced by a smiling cyborg as opposed to having your rate increased! December 2017: Get ready for the coming year's continued clusterfuck at increased prices if you choose to stay with us. January 2018: You're either dead from the stress of your rate increase and the knowledge that you'll be fighting tooth and nail for every single claim or are on your way to eternal life, via Trump's Department of Health and Human Services where you'll spend a little time with those members of congress who continue to seek the repeal and replacement of the ACA. You thought they were real? They're dead, also, and will show you what it takes to become soul-less.
4. Start stockpiling that rectal valium because you're going to need to have rectal valium parties where you charge the party-goers in order to pay for your health insurance. You'll need it as well if you decide to go the cyborg route because it hurts like hell to become a conservative and start ripping people off, lying and prevaricating about what you're actually doing. But be heartened by the end result: you'll be dead, re-fashioned and making America great again.

Pondering the Key to the Universe of Blue Shield

I had nothing to write about today -- or yesterday, for that matter -- until I went online to register my new membership in that most august health insurance entity Blue Shield. I found myself not in a dark wood but rather on a well-lit path with easy markers. I clicked here and traveled there and landed on my home page with the names of my three children below my own. I clicked on each child's name and was denied access. I was told to give my children's email addresses to the Great Oz so that said children could approve my access.

Apparently, the well-lit path led to a fortress.

What is this strange order? I thought and in lieu of giving out my children's emails to a Corporate Entity, I decided to call and speak to a Representative.

I made my way, again, through the labyrinth, this one accompanied by piano music and Hall and Oates. The Representative came on the line, and when I asked him why I had no access to my minor children's medical information, he told me they were obliged to protect everyone because of Hippo Laws. I know about the HIPPO laws, I told him, but I've never heard of asking for children's emails to get permission for their parents to access their medical records. This seemed to stump the Representative enough that he was exceptionally gracious when I asked him what to do, what to do about my Adult Child Who Doesn't Talk. I have appropriate conservator/guardianship papers, authorizing me to access all her information, I told The Representative. I really need to do that quickly as I have some work laid out by your august company to get Sophie's drugs pre-authorized since they are not on your formulary and your people need to know whether they are indeed medically necessary or just a little something that we're taking for the hell of it. (I actually didn't say that last part). The Representative said that he could help me out with that and then he sent over the internets an Important Form for me to fill out and then fax. I then asked him whether he could help me with the Pharmacy Task, and he said that he could not but that he could transfer me over to The Pharmacy Keeper. I clutched my key and went on hold. I stayed on hold, listened to the piano music and Hall and Oates, and then I was turned away, disconnected. Disconsolate.

I went to my email to download the Important Form that would Authorize My Representation of My Disabled Adult Daughter, and here's a screen shot of what The Representative sent me:

Help me, Rhonda.