At first, it was a match made in heaven.
Actuarial love at first sight. Our hearts beat faster whenever something arrived in the mail.
They even had a crackerjack young salesman with a card table set up by the checkout counters at Walmart, with a winning smile, spotting oldsters like us and turning on the charm, making sure we were on board with his version of Medicare Advantage.
We didn't have to be talked into it, because my eagle-eyed wife – who speaks Insurance fluently, reading all the impenetrable stuff they send us – had spotted United Health's Advantage program early on. We were on board without any prodding.
Benefits. Free stuff. Mail that looked like bills that proclaimed, “This is not a bill!” Well, ALL RIGHT!
In addition to giving us $40 every quarter for stuff like toothpaste, Prevagin, and shaving cream, they also started paying my membership at the gym. And instead of the limited membership, I suddenly had access to everything except the tanning beds. (Do I look like a guy who uses tanning beds?)
“You can use the pool,” the guy at the desk said. “Your upgraded membership covers it.”
It was almost too good to be real. Because it WAS too good to be true.
After about a year, we started noticing some irritating habits about our new love, and the bloom was increasing off the rose. We started noticing that our new love slurped her soup.
Forty bucks for brain pills is nice, but that benefit went away. And then, when I tore my Achilles last fall, I was halfway through physical therapy when the place I go (best in Cheyenne) announced they would no longer accept our insurance come January.
Because the insurance company we were with (still are) is so slow and difficult about paying.
And then it turned out that my PSA number indicated I needed to see a urologist. (My theory is that you're a young man until your first appointment with a urologist. That's the official start of old age.)
Turned out the only urologist in Cheyenne didn't take our insurance. But that was OK, because the book I was reading about problem prostates said you want the biggest university teaching hospital you can find, that does a lot of the procedures you're going to need. And we found that at the Medical Center of the Rockies, and they accepted our insurance.
Turned out I had prostate cancer, and we opted for surgery. And so far, the bills are getting paid. (You get a bill that says “This is not a bill” with the amount Medicare paid, which is a fraction of the impossibly high amount the initial bill lists. It's all part of the dance, and then your share is about $72 on a bill that started out in the thousands. There's no reality in this process.)
Right before my surgery, my wife had a knee replacement over in Laramie, but we still had that physical therapy problem with the guys we like not accepting our insurance. But we like them so much that we sucked it up, and paid the full price for her PT, which was a lot more than an insurance co-pay.
Now, anyone who watches TV knows that we're about to enter one of the most irritating times of any year – the dreaded Medicare Enrollment Period.
Seems like every other ad is some slick guy in a suit giving your his pitch to switch over. One particularly irritating ad has a woman named Martha, my age (old), angrily saying what she will and will not pay for.
By the end of the Medicare Enrollment Period, you want to get your hands around ornery Martha's neck and end her health insurance problems once and for all.
However, given our experience over the last two years, I'm eagerly awaiting the enrollment period this year, like a kid waiting for Christmas.
And to quote Taylor Swift, we will “never, ever, ever, ever” be renewing with these guys who teased me with free stuff, but don't have a urologist in Cheyenne who accepts their insurance.
The latest disappointment – our dental doesn't cover fillings. They say it doesn't qualify as “preventive care.” Really?
And our orthopedic surgeon says it takes way too long for them to get paid, too.
So it's “hit the road, Jack” for our Advantage plan come this Medicare Enrollment Period. We'll be going with Medicare and a supplement, which my wife says will be more expensive, but better. (Did I mention that she speaks Insurance fluently?)
And if you get me started on the coverage we've had the last three years, I'll probably be just as insufferable as that ornery Martha on TV.
Contact Dave Simpson at DaveSimpson145@hotmail.com
