Showing posts with label Health Care Reform. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Health Care Reform. Show all posts

Sunday, December 15, 2013

Life Post Car Accident


Nowhere to Turn: The Misery of a Failed Health Care System

The first months after our son James' car accident in July 2012 were dreadful. He was involved in a head-on collision that required an hour to remove him from his vehicle using the “jaws of life.” His crushed face required extensive reconstruction, a spinal tap to relieve cranial pressure and weeks of one-on-one care in the surgical ICU. After he was discharged from the hospital, months of fretful family caregiving followed, with long stretches of paralytic inactivity in between (me on the couch and Rich, my husband, in the recliner). We were in that state of shock for such a long time that I thought we might never recover or that the "new normal" would be dark and fraught with peril at every turn. However, at some point, the jagged edges of our lives began to ease and we all seemed relatively well, except for one looming issue.

We found that we were facing the payment of a large chunk of James’ surgeon’s bill, made impossible to ignore by the $11,080 statement we received routinely every month in the mail. Why were we burdened with this? Because unbeknownst to us, the surgeon called to be a part of James’ trauma team that night was “out of network” and charged more than what was “allowable” under our insurance plan. Should this matter in an emergency? Should we have been required to find another, less costly and thus insurance-approved surgeon and risk an inferior outcome that could literally impact the rest of our son’s life?

During the initial months of my s/low functioning, I began repeated attempts on two fronts to either get the remaining fee paid by our insurer or forgiven by James' surgeon, which is typical in these situations. I was consistently repelled by both. My technical appeals and the “statute of limitations” expired with the insurer, because the process was stalled for a year, and we were left with a bill that the surgeon refused to write-off that will take us 9 and 1/2 years to pay. We will be close to retirement age by the time Dr. ABC gets his money. How did this happen? We had what we thought was good insurance (Blue Cross and Blue Shield of Louisiana), a supportive employer (The LSU System/LSU AgCenter) and a sympathetic physician? Here is my story.

Approaching the Insurer:

My first approach was to argue that the insurance company's reimbursement rate for the surgeon's bill was inadequate- literally, by about 1/3 of the amount he had charged. I had to force myself to fight with the insurer for our financial health, considering the weight of the worry I was carrying. Nevertheless, Blue Cross was my first target because, after all, this wonderfully skilled surgeon had rebuilt the left side of my son's face and likely saved his life. Anything he charged seemed to me like it should be paid. I had several frustrating phone conversations with Blue Cross and Blue Shield with me pointing out their "denial errors," – e.g., "the surgery was not dental surgery therefore it is covered by your policy,” etc. A lawyer friend suggested I call the Louisiana Insurance Commissioner and ask for help, which I did. The Commissioner's office was very responsive and empathetic but said that although they recommended our insurer pay the full fee, they could not help us, because they did not have jurisdiction over our case. Why? Because we did not have "health insurance."

What? No, insurance?


No. No, insurance.

Apparently, unbeknownst to us, the LSU System/AgCenter is self-insured. However, I told them, I remember we chose the Blue Cross and Blue Shield of Louisiana Plan (and Ochsner before that, and Humana before that- both of which were cancelled) from among many insurance plans presented to us during annual enrollment. Right? In addition, what about the Blue Cross Insurance Card I carried around and presented to doctors and hospitals when members of our family needed medical care?

Apparently, that card also had the name of the Office of Group Benefits on it, and that meant something (which is now explained on the back of the new cards issued to us- “Blue Cross and Blue Shield of Louisiana provides administrative services only and does not assume any financial risk for claims.” Was that there at the time of James’ accident? No.). What that meant was that BCBSLA was just a “third party administrator,” or more specifically, just the creator of the terms of the plan, and the claims processor. However, claims are actually paid by the LSU System's Office of Group Benefits.

It was at this point that I discovered that the entire LSU System is self-insured, but in order to find that out, I was told, "you have to ask questions."

Information explaining the meaning of a third party administrator, or that LSU is self-insured were not written on any of the materials we received from our "insurance plan," or any insurance plan offered by the LSU System that you choose, including in the contract containing the terms of the plan. It is not discussed by any of the representatives from the insurance companies that visit LSU to tell you about their company, and their "company's policies" (that you should be sure to sign up for).

At about the same time, I wrote a letter to Blue Cross and Blue Shield of Louisiana, which apparently constituted my first appeal, and their response was to send my letter to the LSU Office of Group Benefits, and to refer me to the terms of our "BCBSLA contract." The long and the short of that line of inquiry was that even though the contract stipulated that (elective) out of network physicians, like ours, were paid only 70% of their fee (with an out of pocket maximum per individual of $1,000), 70% of the fee was not paid in our case (nor was the $1,000 out of pocket minimum honored).

Apparently, another sentence in the contract says that payment will only be made according to the "BCBSLA allowable fee schedule," and our surgeon, Dr. ABC charged more than their “allowable fees.”

Where do you find the BCBSLA fee schedule? Well, it is not listed in the contract, or anywhere else I have been able to identify.

Approaching the Employer:

After appealing to the Office of Group Benefits for help and being turned away -after they had an executive meeting on the subject of our claim (after a long delay, because, “everyone quit”)- I did discover that the Office of Group Benefits had paid 100% of the "BCBS allowable charges," because James' accident was an "emergency." However, again, what they considered "the allowable fees" were approximately 2/3 less than what Dr. ABC charged, or $5,836. At about that same time, I learned that the terms of the BCBSLA contract stipulate a one-year statute of limitations. In the state of Louisiana, contracts for insurance have a statute of limitations of up to 10 years, unless otherwise stipulated. Ours was stipulated. I was running out of time.

Approaching the Physician:

We approached Dr. ABC a number of months after the accident, in a physician's visit with James, as he was unhappy with, and depressed about the way his eye looked, and the amount of discharge draining from it. Approaching Dr. ABC seemed like the next reasonable step, because soon after the initial surgery, Dr. ABC told Rich that he would wait at least six months to do additional surgeries on James, because his face had to heal; but not to worry, that he would get everything the way he wanted it, because "insurance would pay for everything and future surgeries would not be considered elective." By the time we got to that appointment, Dr. ABC had received my letter to Blue Cross and Blue Shield of Louisiana, so knew that we were at a stalemate with Blue Cross, payment-wise. He even complimented me on it. But, in the discussion that ensued, his attitude toward additional surgeries literally did a 180; he did not seem to remember that he had suggested James could or should have any additional work. In fact, he cautioned James against seeking perfection.

"You don't want to get into that trap," he said.

Rich did phone Dr. ABC and confront him about his change of attitude about additional surgeries, to which Dr. ABC replied that there must have been a miscommunication. What we learned from that visit and subsequent emails/phone conversations was that his office had opted out of being a preferred provider for Blue Cross due to numerous disagreements over payment amounts; and that Blue Cross, as a policy, literally, will not speak to out-of-network providers. To wit, we tried to have a three-way phone call-- Blue Cross, Dr. ABC's office and me- that was unsuccessful, to say the least.

Blue Cross would not participate.

When we again tried to speak to Dr. ABC directly, his office staff said that he was not involved in billing discussions. The message was clear-do not attempt to contact him again. I had hoped that both the insurer and the physician might help us resolve this issue- but, communications amongst the three of us proved to be an impossibility.

The onus for determining what is a fair charge/code/price/reimbursement was on the insured or the patient- individuals who know the least about the system or where to locate relevant information. The bottom line for insurance companies is that if you are a "preferred provider physician" you will write-off any remaining amount that is not paid by the insurer. Dr. ABC's office was not a preferred provider, but we practically begged him to forgive the remaining amount. The response? His billing office told us specifically and emphatically that they do not do that because they "would go broke." Mind you, a good portion of Dr. ABC's practice is elective, plastic surgery.

Research- What was this surgery worth?:

My next step was to go back to what I knew best- and that was research, and research methods. Were the codes submitted by Dr. ABC's office for payment "reasonable?" If they were reasonable, were Blue Cross's "acceptable reimbursement amounts" reasonable? The law stipulated that I could request James' medical records/the codes -they were provided to us by the hospital claims department, the physician's office, and the insurer. So, billing codes in hand, I looked up everything I could find on facial reconstruction CPT/ICD9 billing codes- what codes were used for which procedures, and how to code to get reimbursed the greatest amount, etc. I found the American Medical Association website and their recommended payment amounts for medical codes by state. What I found was that the amounts charged for Dr. ABC's procedures by Dr. ABC's office, under the codes he submitted ($17,900~), were both incorrect and in one case many times higher than what was recommended. I also discovered that "Blue Cross" or the "Office of Group Benefits" had paid more than two times ($3,800~) the amount for the main surgical code (21182) as was recommended by the AMA ($1,900~). When I talked to Dr. ABC's office staff about the AMA recommended reimbursement amounts- they pointed out the small print on the website, which said that amounts stated therein might vary by physician and region. When I asked which coding book they used-- they told me The Physician's Coding Guide—(which book recommended a payment amount for the 21182 code from $6,395 to $7,941)-- but I simply could not find it anywhere.

When we discussed their mistake on the main code- they quickly investigated it and determined that, yes, in fact it was incorrect, which they wanted to rectify with the insurer through an appeal, immediately, (which they said would reduce their charge on the main code to $7,900). At the same time, they finally looked at the other codes for other procedures that were on James' bill, and stated that the codes recorded were not those that they had submitted (inferring that someone else changed them). They wanted to change/correct those too, because of something about the insurer thinking that they "bundled" codes when they did not. Fixing this misunderstanding would increase the reimbursement amount (which they said would reduce our $11,080 bill by $1,500 or to $9,500).

This critical look at the billing codes by Dr. ABC's office happened, finally, almost a year after the accident. Despite our calls/emails/visits/complaints no one made a point to try to assist us. Their response over time was to refer us to their billing department and try to put us on a payment plan. A few months later, Dr. ABC's office received the denial of their appeal from The Office of Group Benefits/Blue Cross dated the very day that the Statute of Limitations had run on our claim, 7/11/2013.

At that point, they called and again tried to put us on payment plan. The futile and emotionally draining breakdown in the system had run its course. Under extreme duress, my response was that I would not pay, and asked them to refer our bill to a collection agency, as I had heard collection agencies would at least negotiate the fee amount. Rich’s later communications with Dr. ABC's office determined that they do not refer bills to a collection agency. They have their own.

Where are we now?:

As I said, we are now on a payment plan that will take us over 9 years to payoff. The payment booklet is hidden from me somewhere in the house. Without any other recourse, Rich agreed to their proposed plan and is paying on schedule and on time. I cannot be involved..

During the final phone call my husband had with Dr. ABC's offices, they said that if Blue Cross would have accepted their appeal we would have actually owed more (uh, they were the ones that coded that main code incorrectly, which is why all of the codes were resubmitted). I wrote them an email explaining that we wanted to know the amount Blue Cross would have paid if they had agreed to the code changes that would have corrected the bundled payment misunderstanding. I flatly said that the other coding mistake was their fault and should not be calculated in the amount we owed.

I did not expect a reply. I did not get one.*

Dr. ABC might be a great surgeon but there is something missing if he does not demand that his employees show compassion and assistance toward his patients. In the end, money trumped humanity. All three members/pillars of the system failed miserably.

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*Well, I guess I did receive a reply from Dr. ABC's office:

Our most recent bill now says that the amount we owe is $10,180, rather than the $9,580 reduced amount, even though in 8/5 and 10/23 emails Dr. ABC's office said they would decrease the amount of their bill, and not increase the amount due to their error (which I pointed out). This pretty much exemplifies how we have been treated by James’ surgeon’s office. At some point I will call and question/argue with them about this. It will be in the new year-- the on-going effort and affront/assault by his office is exhausting. Merry Christmas.

Saturday, September 22, 2012

The Phone Call in the Middle of the Night



Our son's car after a head-on collision 

I am not awakened when the telephone rings at 11:30 on a Saturday night. My husband is and is filled with dread, like he is always filled with dread when the phone rings at that hour. But, he knows that as soon he hears what the caller has to say that everything will be okay. It's always okay. But, this time, everything is not okay. He wakes me gently and in the softest voice says, "Get dressed. James has been in a car accident." That is the only part of the conversation Rich can remember -- "a car accident"-- even though I ask him about it over and over again because I think there must have been even one more word that will tell me my son is safe. He can't remember.

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I tell myself stories on the drive to the hospital about various accident scenarios that could have happened that might be somewhat serious, but not all that serious. I tell myself he had a safe car. It had airbags. It was older, but well maintained. It had good tires. Didn't we just replace the tires? This was an early Saturday night for him so what's the worst thing he could have been doing? He did not drink and drive. Did he? He almost never drove on the freeways. Did he? So, what's the fastest he could have been driving on a side street in this rain-- thirty or forty miles an hour? Is that right? And I pray in that very quiet car, in between the conversation that I'm having with myself in my head, and the questions I ask my husband out-loud about the phone call. But, then we hit the main street just outside of our subdivision that will take us directly to the hospital. It has been under construction for months, but open. Now it's barricaded. Ambulances, police cars and flashing lights are everywhere. And I know. Rich turns the car around. I don't remember the rest of the drive to the hospital.

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Rich drops me off to park the car. I hurry into the Emergency Room entrance and am met at the door by a nun, a couple of nurses and an ER doctor. This frightens me. They shepherd me into a cold waiting room with green walls, blinding florescent lights, vinyl tile floors, and molded-plastic chairs and I say to myself, it's like this because people vomit in here.They say something I don't remember. I sit down opposite the door and am left to wait with the nun, who repeatedly asks me if I'm okay. I say, "I don't know." I notice that she does not touch me. I realize I feel like I'm made of sand, no steel, and think, "that's why she doesn't touch me, she thinks I will fall apart or hurt her." Rich finds me. I tell him I'm waiting on the trauma physician. Our eldest son and his fiance arrive, and Daniel asks, "He'll be okay? Won't he, Mom?" I am the mother and my role is to say that everything will be okay. This time I say, "I don't know." I realize I haven't moved in my chair. I wonder if I've spoken any of the words out loud that I think I have. I close my eyes and pray.

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A police officer appears and seats himself opposite me, and says that our son, heading south bound, and the first of two vehicles traveling north bound, collided, which caused James' car to recoil to the right. When he tried to steer back onto the road, he over-corrected directly into the path of the second north bound car. I think to myself, "He was just going home." The officer tells me it took him an hour to cut James from his car. I remember Rich saying, "Jaws of Life." I think to myself, "So this happened at 10:30 at night?"And I wonder why I didn't know that this was taking place less than a mile from our house? Aren't mothers supposed to sense when something happens to their children? I didn't even have a twinge. I feel crushing guilt. Then I realize that I don't know if I could have lived through the hour it took to free him from his car and I thank God for not knowing. Then I feel ashamed for not wanting to be with my son. There is some talk about the condition of the road: a curve, the road construction, a transition from gravel and blacktop to cement. It is unclear who crossed the line. There was no sign of intoxication. James may have been speeding. I look up and lock eyes with the officer, and he says, "But, that could have been just a matter of perception." I nod. The other two drivers walked away. There were no witnesses. There was no time to break; therefore, no skid marks. The crash will not be investigated. I thank the officer for cutting my son from his car and for not placing blame on him. Whatever the outcome, I don't want James to have to live with the blame.

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The trauma doctor comes in and methodically runs down a long list of possible injuries including brain, neck, and eye damage resulting from the profound impact to the left side of my son's face; his beautiful face. The doctor stops mid-list to look at me because he realizes he has forgotten to tell me that my son is not dying. The only thing I truly understand is that the bones in his face have been shattered. He has swallowed and inhaled a great deal of blood. They are inserting a ventilator to breathe for him, and a tube to drain the blood from his stomach. They will place him in an induced coma. We won't know more until tomorrow after a head-to-toe scan when the specialists are called into assess his condition. They ask us if we want to see him but warn us that we probably do not. Rich does; and emerges from the ER and folds in on himself, sobbing. I feel guilty for not going into console my son.

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Go home and sleep, they say, there is nothing you can do.

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I do go home and take a Valium, which allows me to sleep for a couple of hours. Then I wake. I wonder where I am, what happened and why I feel like someone died. Then I remember. I rise very early and go to see my son in the Surgical ICU.

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This was followed by weeks in the hospital with family and friends, praying with and talking to James while he was in a coma; comforting him when he woke-up sobbing because he thought he was dead; watching him thrash in restraints, while being weaned from the ventilator; trying to console him because his eyes were swollen shut and leaking bloody spinal fluid; preparing him for major surgery to reconstruct his face just five days after the accident; suffering with him while he dealt with the pain after the surgery, which, according to the trauma doctor, "is like the accident all over again," but without the benefit of the coma or the medications they could have administered to him while in it.

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James was very lucky. He suffered no optic nerve or neurological damage. His blood levels returned to normal as his spleen healed. The hole between his nasal passage and brain repaired itself after the 6 hour surgery by a team of 3 maxillofacial surgeons to drop what was left of his nose back in place and reconstruct it, his cheek, and the bones that support his eye socket. All told, the surgery included 2 cranial bone grafts, 10 plates and 60 screws.

The lead surgeon called-in specifically to operate on James' unique set of facial injuries was trained at our "charity hospital system," which is considered to have the best emergency medical training in the country. He told us that he had seen and repaired the most egregious of facial traumas, including those in the days before airbags, and many due to bullet wounds. However, James' injuries were worse. Every time he picked up a bone, there was another broken one to take its place.

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Our "charity hospital system," which has served the poorest of the poor for the last 200 years regardless of ability to pay, is in the process of being dismantled in favor of public-private partnerships. Earl K. Long, our Baton Rouge facility will be shut for good in 2013. Charity in New Orleans, the largest hospital in the system, was destroyed by Katrina and hasn't yet been rebuilt. This year, in the face of staggering Medicaid cuts, it was proposed that an additional 6 hospitals be downsized to 10-bed "shells" and another in Lake Charles that served 78,000 people last year, closed. In 2005, this 10-hospital safety-net served a total of 650,000 individual patients, which is approximately equal to the number of uninsured Louisianians, according to the 2010 Census. Where will people without health insurance get their treatment in the future? Considering that our state has officially decided to opt out of the Medicaid Expansion portion of the Affordable Care Act, I would imagine that our poor (we have the sixth and second highest poverty rate for adults and children in the US, respectively) will seek their care in emergency rooms.

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Otherwise they will go without. They're used to going without.

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James is home now, with boots on two multiply fractured feet, a swollen, asymmetrical face, and a weepy, decidedly smaller, misaligned eye. He'll need more surgeries but they can't start for another 6 to 9 months or until the swelling fully subsides. He has tried to reconstruct the day of the accident but can't remember a thing after two in the afternoon. He was on his way home from visiting his girlfriend-- a waitress at a pizza place. The receipt she retrieved shows he had a pizza and a beer. Photographs reveal an obviously totaled vehicle, with a front-end demolished to the extent that just a sliver of a space remained on the driver's side. We wonder how he fit into it. The engine dropped just like it was designed to do so that it did not crush his legs. All front and side airbags deployed. There was blood, but less than you would think. We don't know why his facial injuries were so severe. We don't know who or exactly what factors caused the accident. The accounts of the other two drivers, traveling together, differ, and James hasn't given a statement because he can't. The police and the car insurance companies have closed their investigations.

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James is trying to accept that he will probably never know what happened.

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We struggled; especially in those early weeks to support him while he grieved over his injuries and the loss of his looks. I enlisted the help of a therapist, because my parenting skills seemed at-best inadequate and at-most inconsistent. I am trying to squelch the anger in my voice, stop looking for instant solutions, and stop saying, "You were so lucky." James has decided to defer his scholarship and sit out fall semester. He retained his room in the rental house he shares with friends, although he has yet to move back in. He doesn't want to go out or socialize. Most of his time is spent in on-line gaming or watching television. He goes to bed late and wakes up late. He says he wants to take an on-line course. I try not to ask if he's registered. His recovery will be at his own pace, not mine.

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We are taking a semester and sometimes a day at a time.

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About six weeks after the accident, I was driving to work when I abruptly veered off to the side of the road and turned off the car. It took me a few minutes to steady my breathing and pry my hands from the steering wheel. It struck me that I had forgotten to make sure that James was still covered under our health insurance policy. He is 21 and I knew that adult children are only covered on their parents' policies until the age of 23 as long as they are enrolled in college full-time. It was too late to revisit the decision about James returning to school. Even if we could enroll him, he just wasn't ready. I had visions of us forcing him to take classes and then trying to make him study for them so that he wouldn't lose his scholarship. How else could we possibly pay for these bills we keep receiving for tens of thousands of dollars, and which, so far, have been paid in-full by our health insurance company? We couldn't buy him an individual policy because his injuries resulting from the accident would be considered pre-existing conditions. No insurance company would have him. Stories about families who had to file for bankruptcy after events like these flooded my mind. I tallied up what we could retain and what the court would take from us. I had just started a new job after being laid off from a healthcare company last year. We were still digging ourselves out of debt. Then I remembered that I did not have to worry about any of that because of the Affordable Care Act (ACA). Adult children up to the age of 26 were now covered under their parents' health insurance policies, period, no filing of school registration materials, no more bureaucracy; I had forgotten that I hadn't had to file school registration materials with our insurer for the last two years. It's almost unbelievable to me that a very short time ago, the ACA had almost been repealed.

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To be honest, when I first heard about the ACA's coverage of adult children, I didn't think much about it; in fact, I thought it was insignificant, sort of a public relations carrot to dangle in front of the masses to appease them while they waited for the substantial provisions to go into effect in 2014. We were professionals with advanced degrees, had always worked, and had always had health insurance. Our eldest son, the one who does have preexisting conditions found work after his MBA and has health insurance. James wouldn't have any problems because there was no doubt that he would be in school and therefore would be covered under our policy; and if he wasn't in school and even if he wasn't employed, we would just buy him an individual policy (I hear they're supposed to be cheap for people his age and that, "the market" takes care of that). He was perfectly healthy -- the one child's insureability I did not have to worry about.

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We are about ready to go to one of James' many doctors' appointments; and despite all that has happened, I feel grateful, or maybe "lucky" is a better word. We were just lucky that James' accident occurred during a period of time when this little piece of the Affordable Care Act was in effect. Due to a complex set of factors, including the timing and outcome of a Supreme Court opinion, we could easily have been on the losing end of this situation. Lucky. So lucky.

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We need to make sure that everyone is just as "lucky."

Let's support our hard won healthcare legislation. Let's help our president to help others to be as "lucky" as we have been.

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