Well it seems like I’m not pregnant this time. That’s ok. It’s unsettling that the psychic was wrong (she said I’d be pregnant by May) but I suppose I just have to admit that psychics are for entertainment purposes only.
One super cool thing that happened is that my insurance company rejected a claim from a recent doctor’s visit. It was one of the doctors I was interviewing to star in the upcoming production of Heather Gets Pregnant Again. While I liked the guy, there were too many doctors in his practice so I went with some one else. My pals at Blue Cross Blue Shield patiently explained that after a review of my records, they didn’t think the procedures preformed were necessary so would I kindly pay them $655.
I could appeal if I want, all I have to do is send in every medical record generated since my last conception. I asked what business insurance adjusters had deciding what procedures were necessary, but halfway through the woman’s bland corpor-answer I tuned her out. I don’t care. I’m not going to pay the bill anyway, so what’s the point in arguing about it. If they want to pay a collection agency to come after me I would take great pleasure in making sure they spend $1000 in man hours to try and recover my $655.
Passive resistance is all I’ve ever really been capable of.
In the meantime, it’s back to Weight Watchers. I can take this next month to lose a little more weight before my dear friend’s wedding in Jamaica. I can focus on adoring my soon-to-be-born nephew. I can take Ramona on her physical-therapist-sanctioned half hour walks. I’m still waiting, but I’ll live a little too.
Ef ‘em. My hubby and I are currently trying to fight them for sticking us with a $70k+ bill after our little one was in the NICU after they made a clerical error.
Apparently their errors are our fault as well as deciding what necessary procedures to bill you or not bill you for by picking them out of a hat. Bastards.
God bless!
yeah jamaica!