Trying a Patient's Patience

Here it is Father's Day, June 20. One week into the "no Advil" and one day until the special soap begins:) Three more chiropractor appointments (chances to get my back so I can sleep on it comfortably.) Six days 'til my dad gets here.

Rod and I called our fathers, and when I spoke to my dad the conversation (as it inevitably does) turned to the surgery - with me completely ranting about an encounter with the health insurance company, and that led me to think more about my patience (or recent noticeable lack thereof.)

Friday, about 5:45 p.m.: I get a call from a woman who says she is calling to "help" me with my health insurance. She doesn't identify herself in any other way. So far, she sounds a lot like the people who call to "help" me with my mortgage rate. And she asked for "Becky," the nickname that NOBODY who knows anything about me would EVER call me; certainly not what someone who has never met me would call me. Who starts with a nickname just to get chummy? I'll tell you who - people who call Rod and ask for Tom because his full first name is Thomas. Guess what? They never get to talk to him.

So, here I am, driving with Ari to the synagogue for a barbecue and family service, and already this woman has me wound up. But, I agree to speak with her and after she asks me for my birthday and zip code, I ask(nicely) to know exactly which company she is calling from. Satisfied with her answer, I proceed to have to explain to HER what my medical history is and how I got to my current situation.

Turns out she is an oncology nurse who is calling to "help" me - and that word is in quotes yet again because so far, (and I'm telling you now that by the time we hung up,) that word has NO place in a description of our conversation. Through all the years since 2006, every person working in oncology has been wonderful - understanding and patient. And the first thing they all say is either "How are you doing?" or "Is there anything I can help you with?"

Somehow she managed to tell me that a) my hospital is not in-network (untrue - any rube with an internet connection could look that up easily and find out that my hospital is, indeed, in-network) and b) that her understanding of the gap exception rule is that it is only applicable if there is no suitable doctor within a 30-mile radius. (Visions of a pile of disappearing cash and/or a doctor who says at the last minute that he can't do the surgery arise in my head.) And, she wants to know who Rod spoke with to get his information from.

Now we've arrived at the synagogue, I'm inwardly furious with this woman for not only NOT helping, but starting a conversation about something that would seem to be decidely not her purview and putting me in such a tizzy that can only be described as "a state." I saw Rod had already arrived and handed him the phone, but that evening it was all I could think about, even through speaking with some nice prospective members and the lovely outdoor service.

Her last words to me were "Why don't you call me next week? I'd like to educate you a little about chemotherapy." If we had been face to face, she should have stepped away; that's how angry I was.

My last words to her were "I have an oncologist, and we won't know what will happen with that until after we have all the testing done after the surgery." This is better than my evil (and fortunately for both of us, silent) twin's response: "Educate? Really? I'm sorry, is there no other place that would let you work for them? Because you're just adding to the stereotype of insensitive, ignorant health insurance employees." Maybe even with my actual response I might have sounded kind of snotty, but if she was calling to be my case manager and help me through some of this, she should have been a little more sensitive, especially for a first call. And I resented that it felt like she hadn't actually been listening to me. I spent all that time explaining my medical history (using the appropriate vocabulary even)and she still spoke to me like she knew everything and I knew nothing. The word "imperious" comes to mind.

After I replayed the conversation in my head a few times I thought that maybe I could have been more patient with her. (After all, she was, in theory, trying to assist me. She was just really terrible at it. And I guess she had no idea that when I said I only had 10 minutes, I really only had 10 minutes.)

Frankly, I could be a lot more patient with everyone at this point. For the past few weeks I have been impatient with family, co-workers, friends, and the world in general. I don't even know if my situation gives me permission to be that way, but I appreciate all of you putting up with me.

(You know it's bad when I've started joking that the anesthesia will at least insure I get 3 to 4 hours of uninterrupted sleep!)

It will be better soon.