I hate insurance companies. I really hate mine.
I just had to fight with an Incompetence Insurance rep to get estimates. At first, I got this weird run around.
ME: I’m trying to budget for my anticipated procedures. Can you help me get an estimate on IUI and IVF from my doctor?
REP: No, unfortunately I can’t do that without getting the procedure codes. Sorry!
ME: And where can I look up those codes?
REP: You would have to talk to your doctor.
ME: So you’re telling me that you can’t help me until I call the doctor’s office, get a list of all the associated codes, then call YOU back? Really?
REP: Yes, ma’am. That would be the only way I could give you an accurate estimate.
ME: I’m not looking for an accurate estimate, I’d be fine with a ball park…
REP: Unfortunately, I can’t look that up without the procedure codes.
And then I unleashed my fury. I asked to file an official complaint with the company because my doctor is in-network, and they should have records of what similar procedures have cost in the past. In fact, Incompetence Insurance’s stupid website even claims to offer this as a service.
The threat of filing an official complaint worked. After some huffing and puffing and 10 minutes on hold, the rep came back with two codes– one for IUI and one for IVF– and estimated fees from my doctor’s office. I seriously wonder if she just didn’t want to spend the time looking them up
What’s doubly hysterical about this is that I called my company’s “Concierge Services” line. That’s right- Incompetence Insurance wants my company’s business so bad, they have a special line for us. And I still manage to get terrible treatment. #lame
What I genuinely hate about all this shit with insurance companies is that they are pushing so much of the day to day management on to its customers. Fine, I can respect that this is my benefit which I pay for, so I need to take an active interest. Fine. But in this case, I wanted to hurl feces at someone. Here I am trying to make responsible decisions with my health and my finances, and I’m getting an INANE run around.
Yes, I did eventually get the information that I wanted. But I didn’t need to spend 25 minutes arguing with someone, elevating my stress levels, and acting like a dick. Contrary to what some might say, I don’t actually enjoy being that person who threatens to file complaints. Don’t make me be an asshole. Just fricking help me out.
I’m almost done with all my “homework” for my first RE visit in two weeks. Mr. Ostrich had to fill out a questionnaire yesterday, which was hilarious. My favorite moments:
“Are you sure you’re not supposed to fill this out?”
Um… it says MALE fertility questionnaire at the top.
“Why do they need to know when I started shaving?! Who remembers that crap?”
He tried to insist he started shaving at 12, which is just not possible. After some rational discussion, we discovered it was more like 15.
Gotta find something to laugh about throughout all this, amiright?
I just need to fax over the last of my release forms, and we’re good to go. August 7th, FTW!