Your insurance cares about you--Act 3

I slip the key into my mail box, but it won’t open. I fiddle with it. The lock is unresponsive. Like granite. It’s the little things that go wrong that take years off your life.

Then I realize that I’ve put my key in the wrong box. I pull the key out and slip it into the box to the left. It opens without difficulty. No moths fly out. A single envelope beckons me. Not even any junk mail. How have I fallen so far off the radar that I don’t even get junk mail anymore?

It’s from Presbyterian Health Plan. After my pleasant chat with Lujan yesterday I experience no nausea upon getting a letter from my health insurance.

I open it on the way back to my car. Riiiiiiiiiip. No telling how many Americans are run over and killed while reading their mail exiting Post Offices.

This letter is from Lisa. Her title is Grievance Research Specialist. Huh. I don’t envy her job.

The letter summarizes my sharp comments to Life Masters. She thanks me for sharing my concerns with Pres. They value my opinion. They’ll treat my complaint as an opportunity to make changes to give me better service. Some one will call me shortly.

Well, the message arrived before the messenger in this case. But still, I gotta admit, I’m impressed with Pres. Remember this started with a short tempered vent to a sub-contractor. My message was relayed and someone paid enough attention to research it.

Maybe I miss-judged Pres. Maybe they aren’t the faceless cold monolith that is Blue Cross. I still don’t trust them, but maybe I’ll be able to live with them.

I tell my new Dx’s that living with diabetes is like living with a tiger. If you feed it, groom it, never turn your back on it; you can live with a tiger. If you neglect it; it’ll pounce on you and rip you to shreds.

Maybe insurance is the same way. Diabetes and Insurance. You can live with both; just don’t turn your back.