From the Penny Post, via MichaelMoore.com:
July 27th, 2007 4:45 pm
Help, I’m in H.M.O. hell! Just another ‘Sicko’ dayBy Andrei Codrescu / Penny Post
I went to my pharmacy to get another prescription filled, an act that’s become so routine for most of us, we go through the drive-in window to get our pills. Only this time, things were different. My health provider’s card, which used to assure me of a generally reasonable price, was rejected. I had to either pay full price, which was so outrageous I could hardly believe my eyes, or straighten it out with my provider, which quit doing business the usual way two days before.
If I paid full price, the pills cost 10 times more, I kid you not. A $10 drug was suddenly more than $100. So I decided to straighten it out with my health provider.
After going through two rounds of voicemail hell, I got a human who told me that the provider had spun off its drug prescriptions to another company that should have sent me a card that would ensure that I got my usual medication at the covered price. The human was good enough to give me a number for this new drug company and, after several rounds of voicemail hell, supposedly “due to an unusually heavy volume of calls” — yeah, I bet — I got through to another human who informed me that my card should have been sent weeks before. The trouble was, it had been sent to an old address that I had changed on every form I could think of, including that of my health provider.
Well, that’s easy, I said, change the address and send me a new one. That’s not possible, the human said, you have to have your provider send us your new address. But, I said feebly, I have just given you all the information that proves that I am me: my S.S. #, my H.M.O. number, my birth date, my mother’s maiden name. That may be, he said, but we must receive your address change from your provider.
Go to round five of voicemail hell back to my provider where, after a good half hour, I punched into my cell phone everything a robot asked about me: my S.S. #, my H.M.O. number, my birth date, my mother’s maiden name. When the robot was satisfied, I had only three more circles of hell to go through before I found a human, who asked me the exact same information the robot had. After ascertaining that I was really me, she listened to my problem and said that she couldn’t possibly change my address, because such a change had to come on a form provided by the employment benefits office of my workplace.
At this point, I said, not so feebly: Why can’t you just move your cursor to the top of the page and enter my new address and forward this address to your spin-off company so I can get my frigging drug at the price you guarantee, because I pay a whole lot of frigging money every month for that discount? Well, that was when I heard the click of the abyss and the H.M.O. human shoved me off the edges of her consciousness. .....(more)
The complete piece is at:
http://www.michaelmoore.com/sicko/news/article.php?id=10076