My physician referred me to physical therapy for a very
painful upper back condition. I waited
for a month while the Grand Poobah HMO Administrator gods huddled in their
magic cave to decide whether they would wave their approval wand and grant
entrance to “Thirty dollar Co-pay three
times a week land. “ After countless
phone calls, letters and an almost visit to a tattoo artist to get my medical
record number permanently inked on my ass, they broke council and granted the
request.
Not to be ignored, outdone or denied their OWN chance to
hold court in the seemingly fiendish plot to drive patients needing services to
the brink of insanity, the Insurance Provider gods convened in their own
demonic den to decide the merits of my painful plea for relief.
Finally, after 2 months, I took my twisted little self to
the closest physical therapist, filled out MORE forms, cursed myself for not
following through on the ass tattoo and nervously waited for the summons to
sally forth and be healed.
All the countless hours spent calling, cajoling, filling out
form after form – often with the SAME information requested in the previous
form, finally resulted in actually seeing someone who’s sole interest was
actually seeing me as a real, live human with a need instead of a number
Jane, my assigned therapist, was wonderful. Well trained in the traditional course of
physical therapy, she had the added knowledge, practice and belief in chakras,
spirit energy, meditation and the importance of inner light. She soon had me relaxed, pain free and on
the mend.
Soon, I received a letter from a third party
company representing my medical insurance provider determining if the services
I am receiving currently from my medical provider "were the result of an
accident in which another party may be responsible for payment."
Gosh, I’ve NEVER attracted so much attention from so many
parties at once!!
7 choices are then listed for me to peruse and select which
presumably will allow them to determine the true cause of injury and the proper
person to bill. I diligently read the first six choices, however none of them
quite fit my scenario. I am slightly
panicked since I always like to make an A on these kinds of tests. I even
sharpened my #2 pencil so that there would be no mistaking my choice. Then I
see my favorite box in the world: #7. Other. Please explain.
I love Other- Please Explain. It has always been my safe
harbor all the way back to the days of sign-ups to play softball for the
Southside Chiefs in 5th grade. Back then my ma used Other-Please Explain to
discuss the reason I should be allowed to play for the team practicing on the
field closest to our home rather than having to travel for (eek!) a whole mile
to the team who practiced by the freeway.
I'm an Other-Please Explain kind of girl. I have never
neatly fit into any category, be it skin type, age bracket, hair color, eye
color (green if I'm wearing pink, yellow or green-blue if I have on purple),
situation, etc. There is usually some strange quirk that prohibits me from
confidently checking the appropriate box in life. You can imagine what stress
the Census form must bring.
Here is what I explained to the third party to explain to the first
party:
Other. Please Explain. My physical therapist says that she
has never seen a more crunched up 1st cervical vertebra than mine. We discussed
the different reasons, and she came up with a list of likely causes. I have
written them down for you and hope you will be fair when you divvy up the
billing for the responsible parties.
1. Sometimes this injury happens in the womb and does not
become apparent until we age. In this case, you will need to contact my mother.
2. My therapist tells me that childhood falls can also
result in this injury. In 3rd grade, Anthony Galiando stomped on the descending
end of the teeter totter as yours truly was rising to the top of the world on
the other side. I am sure I do not have to explain the physics to you, but this
did result in me flying off the teeter totter and landing about 6 feet from the
apparatus onto the hard dirt surface. I do believe Mr. Galiando is currently
incarcerated, but he may be able to slip someone the shiv and make recurring
small payments via cigarette cartons until his portion is paid off.
3. Repetitive motion can also do the trick. I KNEW I was
being irretrievably harmed when Sister Jean made me scrape gum off the bottom
of all those desks as punishment for wearing blue eye shadow. I'm not quite
sure if she was a closet fashionista who knew that you should never wear blue
shadow if you have blue eyes or if she wanted to punish me for looking like a
tramp. Probably both! I believe her Order was Sisters of Charity but maybe it
was Sisters of Divine Makeup Intervention. You can look her up. I bet she even
has a FACEBOOK account.
4. Sudden, unexpected changes in body position most
assuredly put a kink in the works. In that case, you better contact the 79-80
Rockette Cheer Squad. Once we were practicing a pyramid and yours truly was on
top of the heap, king of the hill. One girl shifted to itch her underarm and we
all came tumbling down. I ended up with a concussion and a black eye. It is
SQUARELY her fault and when you charge her, please also ask for additional
money for me. My senior pictures were awful and no amount of makeup could make
me look like I hadn't been in a gang fight after school. (They were $100. I
won't charge interest)
5. Hours of keeping your head in one position and not moving
also seem to disagree with Ol' Mr. C-1. Gosh, I don't know who to blame for
this one. I just think it would be churlish to blame Mr. Rogers. He was only
half an hour anyway. Plus, he's dead. I guess you might have to contact the NBC
network since I DVR Days of Our Lives and usually spend about 3 hours at a time
finding out who's doing whom in Salem. I do occasionally cock my head to the
side when I see some of the romantic pairings they make, but I'm thinking that
probably does not constitute enough head movement and if anything, probably
exacerbates the injury. I know it injures my eyes and ears when I view some of
the storylines, but that's a different appointment all together.
6. Bad posture is also a culprit. For this, you're gonna
have to do some detective work. There was a big, tall, blond girl who lived on
McKinley Street in Oklahoma City. Mrs. White's Ballet Academy was also on
McKinley. Big Blond Girl used to threaten bodily harm as I proudly carried my
little ballet shoes, tights and tutu stuffed into my BARBIE BALLET BOX and ran
past her on my way to Mrs. White's. I soon gave ballet up, but never told my Ma
the reason. I'm not sure of this girl's name, but I bet she is now a man- thus
making a difficult situation for positive identification. If you
do find her/him, please charge her
money AND kick her ass.
In closing, I do hope this has been helpful in sorting out
the responsible parties to bill for this treatment. I have to go now - since
filling out this form has brought on stress due to painful repressed memories,
and I now have a new pain in my neck. I will leave it to you to bill yourself
accordingly.
I never heard back from dear old Third Party, but I’d like
to fantasize that my response resulted in the following:
1. 1. That the
poor schmuck stuck in a cubicle reviewing these forms for “Third Party” laughed
his/her ass off when they read my response
.
2. 2. First, Second and Third Parties had one BIG
party and decided they had enough information about me to last a lifetime.
