Up until last May, my experience of medical costs was limited to the $100 per month premium I contributed towards my employer-sponsored insurance and the nominal co-pays associated with well-child checkups and generic prescriptions. There was never any hesitation in seeing a doctor or filling a prescription. That all changed when went I back to school.
I blindly signed up for the school-recommended family insurance and naïvely assumed myself, my wife, and my two young children would receive whatever health care we needed at a relatively small co-pay. The upfront premium of $10,000 was high, but I believed that this would cover whatever life threw at us. However, two experiences woke me up from my ignorance: my wife’s endoscopy and a visit to the pediatrician.
In July, my wife was sent by her doctor to get an endoscopy to determine the cause of her stomach pain. In the weeks following her procedure, we started receiving statements from our insurance company.
The statements declared that we were responsible for the full amount. We received the following explanation from our insurance company, “We don’t cover preexisting conditions.”
As we argued with the insurance company, the hospital bills started trickling in: $1200 from the outpatient center, $200 from our family physician, $400 for the anesthesiologist and $200 from the lab. We received six bills demanding $2600 for one procedure. As I examined the bills I was shocked by the redundancy—why is the cost for the anesthesiologist not included in the outpatient center bill? Why do I need to pay my family physician twice (the initial visit and the follow-up) for a procedure she ordered us to do? Besides feeling hung-out-to-dry by my insurance company, I felt taken advantage of by the medical system. It seemed as if everyone in that hospital wanted to include something for our visit.
After fighting tooth and nail to get our insurance to cover my wife’s endoscopy, they finally relented. Still, we were left with $700 to pay. For an unemployed student, $700 is not a small co-pay.
I studied the coverage booklet put out by my insurance, and I still do not understand what is covered and what is not. What I found was something similar to how we were billed for my wife’s endoscopy: the procedure itself is covered one way, labs are handled another way, and prescriptions are an entirely different matter. How am I supposed to know what labs or prescriptions are associated with an endoscopy?
Compared to my wife’s endoscopy, my daughter’s first visit to the pediatrician should have been straightforward. A fever that lasted three days followed by a rash was a simple diagnosis for her experienced pediatrician. What is not simple is the billing and insurance struggles we are facing. Our insurance company decided that my daughter’s fever was a preexisting condition, and as we fought with them to fulfill their responsibility, the pediatrician’s office contacted us that the $115 fee is actually $321. Again, the feeling of being taken advantage of is overwhelming. It could be that our doctor’s office is honest in their error, but I have never received services or products charged to me like this. In other words, when I go to the store, I know exactly how much a pound of apples will be long before I get to the cashier—and there are no “preexisting” conditions that add hidden costs at the register.
I’ve learned a lot about medical cost of care; that is, care costs a lot and it’s not straightforward what the cost is. I know that we have paid $11,021 for an endoscopy, a visit to the pediatrician and spotty coverage for the rest of the year. It’s not merely that medical care is expensive, it’s also that I have no estimate of what my costs will be. Getting new brakes on my car is expensive, but the mechanic is very careful to give me an itemized estimate before the repair is made. Recently, my wife, after a particularly exhausting week, started experiencing pain in her chest and a tingling sensation in her arm. Being a nurse, she knew exactly the tests that would be ordered if she went into the hospital.
Despite my attempts, she refused to go to urgent care knowing that the cost of the visit, even if our insurance company cooperated, would be enormous. There’s now a hesitation to use our medical resources that was never there before.
Samuel Yang is a patient from Maryland.
Costs of Care:
Costs of Care (Twitter: @CostsOfCare), where this post was originally published, is a Boston-based nonprofit organization that collects anecdotes from doctors and patients. We feel these stories are poignant because they put a face on some of the known shortcomings of our system, and also because they unveil how commonplace and pervasive these types of stories happen.