she's just sayin'

So, healthcare. Oh no, are you yelling and screaming at the monitor already? All I said was ‘HEALTHCARE.’ I know, I know, it’s a touchy subject. I won’t wax on with my opinions about the healthcare bill because I really don’t know what the hell ended up in it after all was said and done anyway. Do you? No judgments on your character, but chances are good you don’t. I don’t think many of us do, let’s be honest. There were ‘town hall’ debates that essentially involved a lot of yelling and screaming and horrible homemade poster board signs designed to attract the media’s attention, there were left wing/right wing crazies, there were a lot of old white men in suits in Washington jabbering and sneering, and then there was a bill: signed. Cool. I guess?

I want to share with you my little healthcare story. I know we all have one. There are likely a few hundred million of them out there across the land, and I would wager that very few are positive. It will never be fixed, I get that, but maybe if the small problems were addressed, we could all take a big CHILLAX pill and not freak out when anybody utters the ‘H’ word.

Here goes. I signed up for a Flexible Spending Account (FSA) at the end of last year. If you don’t already know, (and I’m sure you do, you’re all so smart!), an FSA allows you to deduct pre-tax dollars from your paycheck to pay for eligible medical expenses. I think we can all agree that that’s a good idea. At the time, with a baby on the way, I figured that an FSA was a Super Good Idea. I knew I’d be spending a lot of time and money at the pediatrician’s office and God knows where else in baby’s first year of life.

Fast forward a few months. I’ve used my FSA credit card approximately four times. I have now received two letters from my FSA benefits provider. One states that a claim I previously submitted has been denied and another is requiring me to submit a receipt to verify that a charge was eligible.

“…we have not been able to verify that the purchases were for eligible medical expenses,” the letter states. Hmm, I think. Maybe I used the card at a CVS? I scan down the letter. Under “Provider” it lists “Post Road Pediatrics.” Post Road PEDIATRICS. Can you think of anything one might purchase at a pediatrician’s office that might NOT be eligible? It’s not like they sell M&Ms or Glamour magazines there. I didn’t pick up a new fun and flirty skirt for summer while my son was getting his DPT, polio, measles mumps or wha-bella vaccines.

I get on the horn, prepared to give these FSA people a piece of my mind, and immediately realize this won’t be possible. My customer care associate speaks awful English and has a hard enough time taking down my contact info. I don’t think he’d be able to process a soapbox rant from me. I change tactics, opt to speak slowly and ask politely how it’s possible that a pediatric claim be considered questionable. He explains that the benefits provider maintains a list of doctors’ offices and if your doctor is not on the list for whatever reason, the charge comes up in their system as generic and automatically requires more detailed proof.

Here’s my question: whether or not Post Road Pediatrics is on the list, at what point does human logic come into the equation? Is there no one anywhere on this chain who can peer down at an electronic charge and see that it originates from a provider with the word ‘Pediatrics’ in the name? But, I understand my question is futile in a highly processed digital era, so I ask my guy how I can proceed moving forward. Can I get my pediatrician’s office added to the list?

I am informed that an entirely separate department manages this list. His group has no power or authority to add offices or even request that one be added. I’m not surprised. For all I know, those decisions are made in another country. After much back and forth, I am finally given instructions for my specific situation, ones that require me to provide receipts from a past visit in order to prove eligibility and to write a letter to the provider stating that the pediatrician is a recurring visit so that I will not have to ‘prove’ future claims’ eligibility.

It’s absurd and ridiculous and petty what you have to go through to take advantage of such a good idea. Doesn’t it seem as though every time American healthcare gets their hands on something good—something seemingly simple—they find a way to make a mess of it, to throw a steaming pile of beauraucratic shit on what was once an unsoiled, novel idea? My problem is a small one, to be sure; but if we can’t get the little things right, what hope do we have for the big ones?