I know I have talked ad nauseum about the tedium of calling insurance companies to challenge denied claims, and since we are the only major office that takes Medical Assistance, and we do out-patient surgery for special needs patients, we have a LOT of young children who come through our doors. I also know that I have bemoaned having to call Mequon Wisconson and Salt Lake City Utah on more than one occassion, being that those two citied host the companies that hold more than 90% of the dental Medical Assistance (from now on, Medical Assistance will be referred to as MA, the usual shorthand). Well the other 10% have what is referred to as "straight MA", run by the state. And no matter how bad the corporations that litter the Midwest with my "Please Call Back" messages, nothing they can do can touch the ineptitude and attitude held by state municipal employees.
Now before I go any further, let me say that if you do not live in Maryland, there is always the chance that the state employees where YOU live are pleasant, hard working people who actually have a soul. But I would lay odds against it.
Anyway, straight MA patients are processed through the Dept of Health and Mental Hygiene. Apparently the employees of said august department are not screened to see if they have either of those qualities. I guess those who can, do...
I have currently spent approximately 90 minutes trying to reach someone in said department in order to question why two patients claims were denied. Because the number I have used for the last 1 1/2 years is no longer valid, and they didn't feel it was necessary to inform anyone that the contact number had changed, I have been calling every available number I could find to reach a human who could either help me or steer me in the right direction in order to get help. One of the Hens (Wonder Woman to be exact) gave me a number to call. From there it has been the equivalent of phone Lambada: the forbidden dance of speaking to a person. On the rare occasion that I did speak to a human, it became obvious that they were not who I needed to speak to. How obvious was it? As soon as I explained my situation (and on more than one call BEFORE I finished), I was told in no uncertain terms that they were not who I needed to speak with. On three seperate occasions they hung up on me after saying that, or as it was on ONE of those calls, before they even finished speaking. They were so anxious to get back to whatever they were doing (I imagine it involved torturing animals that PETA had rescued from product testing, than dining on their raw entrails) that they ACTUALLY CUT THEMSELVES OFF!!!!!!! That was amazing.
So now I have to pee and I am suffering from a rather severe case of bus-butt. I actually just got off of the phone with MA, a nice man named Kevin (telling point, he actually had to look for the information to help me because he usually doesn't answer the phones. His clerks do it for him, but they are at lunch. So the likelyhood is that if I had called about 10 minutes later I would have gotten one of those clerks, and would still be searching in vain for actual help). Kevin was so not used to helping people, City Employee Style, that he even gave me the number of the supervisor at Provider Relationis just in case the first number he gave me wasn't what I needed. If there was an election right now, I would write his name in for Mayor.
Okay, I have exorcised the demon that is MA and released the urine that was Jack's distended bladder. Now I must go and get some lunchtime grubbings, for I am hungry.
Before I go, Wifey has started a blog. It is http://joieimani2000.blogspot.com/ and when I get the chance I will be putting it up as a link over there on the right. It might be interesting to see her side of some of the stories I tell, but always remember one thing. Hers are probably all lies and fabrications and gross misrepresentations of the truth, while mine are even handed and tempered with the love and respect that all men should have for their partners. A feeling that it is a journey being undertaken together, and that is how it must be lived. Wifey? Not so much.