And One More Thing

When I was recounting the day I lost the will to live I forgot one thing. I'm not sure how I left this out because it was extremely frustrating. In the midst of all that other stuff going on, I got a call from a debt collection agency. It was about the radiology bill for the MRI I had back in 2016. 

The young lady asked me how I'd like to take care of the payment. 

"I'd like for Aetna to pay it. Actually, they told me not to worry about it that they were taking care of it. So I need to phone them. Again."

She asked if I would like for her to call them. But I said I would call because I really had a number of things I wanted to say to them. But for reasons that aren't all that surprising, I just couldn't bring myself to call Aetna on that day. 

But I did call them yesterday. And as usual, was getting no closer to resolution. I repeated the story of how back in August of 2016 my doctor had ordered an MRI. Of course, he sent the order to an imaging center that was out of network. When they called and told me how much it was going to cost, I declined making the appointment and immediately called Aetna to find an "in network" provider. After nearly a month of calling Aetna once of twice a week, I got a call from an imaging center in Frisco that said I had approval to come in and get the MRI. My best guess is that imaging centers do not make random calls to people who "might" need or want an MRI. My assumption was that they had been in contact with Aetna and felt pretty confident they would be paid because I left without paying anything. (I was expecting a co-pay and was surprised that there wasn't one.)

This story got repeated several times and each time the customer service rep went back to the same old song and dance.

"The claim was denied because there was no pre-certification."

"But you approved it. They didn't call me out of the blue."

And the rep countered with "But there is no pre-certification on file. Would you like to hold while I check with the pre-certification department to see if they have one?"

Seriously? It's been over a year, who thinks they're going to miraculously find one now. (But I don't always say what I think.) "I don't care whether you have one or not. What you do and don't have is not my problem, even though you are trying to making it my problem."

"Would you like for me to check with them and call you back."

"No. I already know the answer to that one."

"Would you like me to continue to try to help you?"

"I don't think you can hep me. My next call will be to a lawyer."

"Why don't I connect you to a resolution specialist?"

"Okay."

A resolution specialist? You would think that every customer service rep would be a resolution specialist. 

I got to tell my sad tale one more time. Of course, the story on their side changed again. This time it was because the provider waited too long to file the claim. Plus they didn't get the pre-certification. (In the past it had always been because the doctor didn't send the referral. - Now it's because the imaging center didn't get the required pre-certification.)

The bottom line is that I don't owe the money. And apparently the provider should know this. The Aetna resolution specialist will talk to the provider and the collection agency to get the problem resolved and I shouldn't have to deal with it again. We'll see.  

Losing the Will to Live

When we took our cats in the camper with us last year, Harry looked like he'd lost the will to live after two days. I am now convinced this was caused by Heidi because we left her at Camp O'Shea and only brought Harry with us this time. We've been here for two weeks and he didn't lose the will to live until yesterday.

Harry and I both lost the will to live at about the same time. I think he lost it because I did. And he knew it. Cats are sensitive to things like that.

How did I lose it? Mark left early to meet with and then go do an inspection with the new inspector we hired in San Antonio. I got up and was in the process of getting everyone paid - something I do on the first of each month. About 10:30 I got a call from Eva telling me that Mark's 9:00 client had called to say that no one had turned up for his 9:00 inspection. He'd left "home" about 6:30 because of the fog and the traffic. I told her I'd phone him and see what happened.

No answer. Voicemail. I didn't want to leave a message. I hung up and redialed - probably four times, all with the same result. I know that if he's in heavy traffic or with a client, he often doesn't answer the phone. He probably wouldn't answer if he was unconscious in a hospital somewhere, either. But rather than panic, I decided to call the new inspector.

"Did you and Mark meet this morning?"

"Yes and now we're on the inspection."

"That's odd. The client just called to say that no one turned up to do his inspection."

"We were here before 9."

"Okay, you are at 12345 ABC."

"No that's not where we are. We are on XYZ street."

"That was supposed to be this afternoon. Tell Mark to call me."

At least he was alive and well. But he didn't call me. After 10 or 15 minutes, I decided to text him.

What should I tell the client that you didn't show up for?

I waited for his response. 

Seriously, I need to tell him something.

Still no response. 

At least he was alive and well. But maybe not for long. Ignoring me can be hazardous to your health!

Finally at 11:30 he called. Apparently his phone battery had died. He wondered what I told the 9 AM client.

"I haven't told him anything! What do you want me to tell him?"

I told him the truth. There were two inspections booked in his neighborhood and he went to the wrong one first. I offered him a discount and the option to reschedule for the following day or ASAP. He chose ASAP. (Now, you would have thought that the guy who was scheduled for the afternoon would have said something like "Oh, I wasn't expecting you until later." But that didn't happen.)

But that all worked out and they were able to get both inspections done before the second one was actually scheduled to start. 

In the meantime, I finished drinking my very last bottle of Ozarka. (I had a fridge full of fizzy water - because that's what Mark likes but I don't like it.) I couldn't run over to WalMart because I had no vehicle. But I could go to the park office because they have a small store and I knew they had bottles of water. But I couldn't get out of the camper. I seemed to be locked in. I moved the lock into every position but it didn't matter. The door would not open. It would open about a half inch but not enough for me to get out. I couldn't even see what was wrong with it. I only knew that I was stuck in a tin box and couldn't get out. There was no need to call Mark. He was on the north side of town and I was on the south - too far for him to easily rescue me. And besides, his phone may not have charged yet.

I gave up trying to get out. I filled my last Ozarka bottle with tap water. It tasted nasty. I only drank what I absolutely had to. 

It was time for lunch. I had left over spaghetti sauce. I only needed to cook a bit of spaghetti. But wait, I couldn't get the gas burners to light. There is a trick to it and I don't know it. I would just have to have salad in my tin can prison with no water. (Do you sense that the will to live is leaving me? It was leaving Harry, too, because he likes to sit and look out the door and I couldn't get it open. Harry tried to open the door but he wasn't successful, either.)

Then after lunch I got another message that one of our inspector's arrived at his inspection and was told that the client was expecting a structural engineer. What!?! Nothing on our flyer indicates that we are structural engineers. Home Inspectors. We are home inspectors. Our mailer identifies us as home inspectors. Not. Structural. Engineers. And why would that client think that a structural engineer would charge home inspector prices. Clue for you - that engineer is going to charge twice the amount of the inspector. I don't know what the client was thinking when he scheduled the inspection but he managed to waste our time. 

By this time it was starting to get hot. I could open the windows but I couldn't feel the effects of the cross breeze without the door open. The door still wouldn't open. I tortured myself at least once each hour trying to open the door.  And every time I tried the door, Harry did, too.)

When Mark called to tell me that they had finished up the second inspection - the one that was supposed to be first - I told him to be careful when he came back because the door was stuck. He wanted to help me. Gave me instructions over the phone to do the things I'd already done. He could hear the door "not opening". He offered to come right away, but it wasn't that important. I'd had no water and no breeze all day. What was another hour or two? But I was about to turn on the air conditioner. He should finish up and not worry. 

Of course when he got back he opened the door with absolutely no problem. Then we went to WalMart to buy water for me and oil for the door. And then we went to Boudro's - which has the best food on the San Antonio Riverwalk. And the will to live miraculously returned. (For Harry, too!)