Big Bellies, Big Bills


I keep my unresolved health insurance statements on my desk in a plastic doohickey my mom gave me years ago. To this day I’m honestly not sure what the two orange sumo wrestlers standing tummy-to-tummy are supposed to do (or why she bought it), but for as long as I can remember they’ve fastidiously held up my statements between their stomachs.

Through the first six months of 2021 the sumo guys have been working overtime. A number of nagging medical issues held over from the pandemic have turned into a spate of doctor visits and tests. In turn, that has resulted in an unprecedented number of statements and a series of reminders of how frustrating dealing with insurance can be.

For some context, my insurer’s website shows 31 statements from 18 different providers so far this year. Responding to all of that alone would be challenging, but the site doesn’t show the countless times they’ve sent me erroneous statements — either misapplying my coverage, sending me the same statement twice with different numbers or simply sending me the wrong amounts. If I had to wager a guess, I would put the actual number of statements I’ve received at closer to 50.

The correct statements don’t spend much time with the sumo guys. As soon as the bill comes, I pay it, staple the documents together and file them away for my taxes. Some of the incorrect statements are obvious errors that I don’t hesitate to disregard, but the majority of them linger with my sumo friends. They keep tabs while I call the insurance company’s 800 number.

There have been a few times where I misread something or simply didn’t understand why it happened, but most calls end in an apology or admission of a mistake on their side. To their credit, almost every agent I’ve spoken with has been helpful and polite, but their sympathy and acknowledgment that their employer has screwed up doesn’t buy me back my time.

In a rational world, a company ostensibly dedicated to helping people pay for their medical expenses would appreciate that the last thing anyone dealing with health issues wants or needs is an error-filled process that sucks away more of their time and, in doing so, inevitably harms their mental health.

We don’t live in that world. We live in a world where the same day’s mail can contain two statements for the same procedure. One showing a $927 patient responsibility and the other showing a $0 responsibility.

My interest piqued, I called to ask if this was the result of some sort of new “choose your own payment” plan. I always joke about filling up a medical punch card and redeeming my free visit — maybe this was it!

No, the agent explained as she humored me with a laugh, the provider had simply submitted the bill twice. “Just disregard the second statement,” she said.

“The zero balance one?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

As much as I’ve grown to love them, I look forward to a day when the sumo guys can once again see each other’s faces. Until then, they’re stuck staring at the wad of statements dividing them, probably just as frustrated as I am.


Support New Mobility

Wait! Before you wander off to other parts of the internet, please consider supporting New Mobility. For more than three decades, New Mobility has published groundbreaking content for active wheelchair users. We share practical advice from wheelchair users across the country, review life-changing technology and demand equity in healthcare, travel and all facets of life. But none of this is cheap, easy or profitable. Your support helps us give wheelchair users the resources to build a fulfilling life.

Comments are closed.