“Why didn’t you sue that mean bastard?” Sandra asked indignantly. My answer was simply that I didn’t then, and still don’t intend to get my life wrapped up in any kind of vindictive energy patterns. The following story will be cataloged under the heading of “Why do things like this happen to me?”
It happened a while ago, but thankfully my angel was with me. Told me to take my video camera, too.
Here’s what could have been a good lawsuit, but it never happened:
Our insurance has a preventative health plan, so I go for a checkup once a year since it’s paid for. We lived in a small town at the time. Doctors came and left frequently. I supposed that they didn’t care for the rural life.
I wasn’t really going to be picky about who administered a prevention examination. I didn’t think there was very much risk involved. It wasn’t as if I would be getting a surgery or anything.
Appointment made, I showed up with paperwork from the insurance company that would route the doctor’s information to the right area that would assure payment under the auspices of the prevention plan.
Well, all the tests were done. I was just waiting to hear from the doctor’s office. But before that happened, I was receiving bills from the various labs, and for X-rays, etc. As it were, the good doctor had two different offices, so when I called he wasn’t in the local office where I had been. I left a message.
“ You’re going to have to change the codes on the bills you sent in.” I said casually, realizing that people do make mistakes, and we’re all only human and all.
I got no reply for a few weeks. In the meantime, the bills were accruing to upward of five hundred dollars that I was not prepared to spend.
When I called, the doctor got on the phone to speak personally with me. He sounded really angry. He was angry. He didn’t like the tone of my voice on the message I had left. He refused to send the correct codes to the insurance company saying that dealing with the insurance is just a courtesy that he doesn’t have to extend if he doesn’t want to.
As a matter of fact, he informed me, he doesn’t even have to keep me for a patient. I was shocked, but remained polite. But what I was really thinking was why would I want to deal with nincompoops like this, anyway?
I replied that I would like to come in and pick up my file. He said that was fine, and we ended the conversation. I called back later to talk to his assistant to find out when I could pick up the paperwork. She said Wednesday, which gave her about a week to put everything together.
When I left the house that day,nsomething told me I should take my video camera with me. I felt the good doctor was being so irrational about this; I didn’t know what could happen.
When I spoke with the receptionist and requested the file, she handed me a manila envelope that seemed suspiciously thin. I took it to the car and opened it and it was a tissue thin copy of some blood tests, and that was all.
I then put the video camera into my purse with the lens peeking out of the zipper. I went back in and asked quietly for the file, and was refused. But this was not until after the three assistants and the doctor went into an examination room and shut the door.
So I got footage of that scenario, and lots of footage of a closed door and no activity in the office. “How strange.” I thought to myself. “What could they be doing in there for so long?”
After some time they all came out. The receptionist sat down in her chair without speaking, and the doctor told me I had to leave. He promptly opened the door to the sitting area, body rushed me, and showed me to the door.
His white lab coat showed up as a swoosh on the film footage as he bumped into my purse with the camera in it.
I left through the door he held open for me, but I was getting kind of scared by then. He let me go through without further incident. All of this shocking, and undeserved treatment gave me the resolve never to pay one penny on these bills that were coming.
Though it was only verbal, the free prevention program was the only reason I went for this examination, and I did stipulate this to all concerned.
The bills kept coming, though. Pretty soon the total was approaching eight hundred dollars in charges. I had written each one a letter indicating that the doctor was the problem, here.
I called my insurance company and talked to a man there. The insurance company called the doctor, and he still refused to cooperate. After that, I made up a form letter on the computer. Each time I got a bill, I sent the form letter.
This went on for so long, my husband had retired, and we moved to a different town and built a smaller house. So much time had gone by, I hardly thought about this incident anymore.
Until one day, I was shopping in Goodwill when my phone rang. The caller on the other end was a policeman from the town we had moved away from. I was being arrested over the phone, if you can imagine that.
Thank God for that angel message telling me to take my video cam that day.
I suppose this incident was fodder for a lawsuit, but I really, really don’t believe in being vindictive. The insurance company eventually received the correct paperwork, and the good doctor collected what was due to him. The labs involved finally got paid, too. Maybe they were going to sue him, who knows?
