“I never had any idea of any of this,” Brian said as he dashed off his email address and handed it over. “I’ll call Peerless as soon as I get home, and I’ll let you know what they say. There has to be a misunderstanding.”
“Fair enough,” Roger said. “And you’ll hear from me as soon as I can get the billing department to expand the bill however much is possible. But I warn you: It still isn’t going to be much more understandable than this one. As I told you, hospital prices are proprietary information.”
“I’ll take my chances.” He then added with mild sarcasm: “Thanks for your time.”
Leaving the administration area, Brian briefly debated whether to try to visit the ICU because he knew where it was on the second floor. He decided against it for two reasons. One was that it might upset the powers that be, and two, if Emma was still disoriented, she wouldn’t even remember he’d visited if he was able to pull it off. Instead, he used one of the courtesy phones in the main lobby and called to see if any of the ICU hospitalists were available, but had no luck.
Brian walked out of the hospital into a warm late summer day, which was beautiful weather-wise but totally lost on him. He walked out to Broadway and turned south as if he were in a trance. Not only was he terrified about the prospects of Emma’s condition, he was now discombobulated and mortified about the possibility that he was facing a horrendous bill he could not pay. All he could hope was that Peerless Health had made a mistake, one that could be rectified by a phone call. Yet from Roger Dalton’s comments, Brian wasn’t all that optimistic. He felt as if he were caught in the outer edges of a whirlpool that had the power to suck him under and drown him.
Chapter 7
August 20
The twenty-minute walk from the hospital to his house on West 217th Street was just long enough for Brian to recover, calm down considerably, and think. He had always been a doer who saw adversity as a challenge. By the time he’d turned onto his street, he was back to giving Peerless Health Insurance the benefit of the doubt. He was now progressively convinced that there had to be a major misunderstanding about the nature of Emma’s condition, and that a simple phone call to point it out would surely clear things up. With that issue possibly solved, he was able to think more about hospital prices and the incredible amount of money involved in healthcare. It seemed preposterous that it could cost more than twenty-seven thousand dollars for a single emergency visit, yet Roger Dalton obviously didn’t think it was at all exceptional. In fact, he had actually said it wasn’t out of line.
Back when Juliette had been born prematurely, Brian was vaguely aware of sky-high hospital bills, but that was for more than a month of neonatal intensive care. But even those bills hadn’t caused a fuss in his personal expenses, since his and Emma’s NYPD health benefits covered it in its entirety. Actually, as Brian turned onto his walkway, what bothered him the most at the moment was Dalton telling him that hospital costs varied depending on which health insurance company was involved and that he, as a nobody, had to pay “full freight.” He couldn’t imagine what people with no insurance at all had to do.
“What a crazy, screwed-up, unfair system,” Brian pondered aloud as he mounted the front steps of his house, one of the very few houses left standing among the myriad of apartment blocks of Inwood, Manhattan.
Once inside, the first thing Brian did was go into the kitchen, where he could hear a cartoon soundtrack. He found Juliette parked in front of the TV and Camila on her laptop at the kitchen table.
“How is everyone?” Brian asked, trying to sound chipper.
“Juliette isn’t hungry,” Camila said. “I’ve tried to tempt her with eggs and bacon, which she usually adores, but she doesn’t want any.”
“How about Bunny?” Brian asked Juliette. Bunny as per usual was tucked in next to her on the banquette. “Is she hungry for bacon and eggs?”
“Bunny has a headache,” Juliette said, without taking her eyes off the screen.
“I forgot about that,” Camila chimed in. “Juliette says she has a headache.”
“I’m sorry,” Brian said. “Maybe Bunny shouldn’t watch so much TV. Do you think that could be causing her headache?”
“I learned something interesting,” Camila said when it was apparent Juliette wasn’t going to respond. She took Brian aside, lowering her voice. “I researched whether young children can be depressed. Apparently, they can, but reactive anxiety is more common a problem. I think we are dealing with significant anxiety here with Miss Juliette.”
“That makes a lot of sense. Witnessing her mother having a seizure and then being kept in the hospital is certainly enough to cause anxiety. Hell, I’m experiencing it myself.”
“I guess we just have to be as supportive as we can,” Camila said. “At the moment it means letting her watch TV.”
“Agreed,” Brian said.
“So, what happened at the hospital? Any word on Emma’s condition?”
“No word on Emma. As for the hospital, they’re demanding to be paid out of pocket for Emma’s ED visit yesterday afternoon.”
“Wow! They don’t waste any time, do they?”
“And you won’t believe the amount they’re asking for,” Brian said. “It’s criminal. As for the speed, I got the sense that MMH Inwood is struggling financially with the coronavirus situation just like we are. Also, it seems the hospital has had a bad relationship with our particular health insurer. True to form, the company already denied the claim. But I’m hoping it’s a misunderstanding. I’ve got to call them and straighten it all out. Are you all right here with Juliette for now?”
“I’m fine,” Camila assured him. “Make your call, and good luck dealing with them. Last year I had a terrible time with my grandmother’s health insurance company.”
Back in the office, Brian searched in the upright file for the Peerless policy to get the policy number and the company’s phone number. When he found it, he noticed it was a Manhattan exchange and a Midtown Manhattan address. Sitting at his desk with the information in front of him, he placed the call. As it went through, he vaguely wondered how many of the Peerless employees were working from home and how many were actually going into the office, as it varied from company to company.
When the line was answered automatically, Brian had to listen to a long list of possible alternatives. He chose one of the last: customer service, which resulted in another extensive list of choices. Five minutes later, when he finally got to speak to a real person and explained that he was calling to contest a denial of claim, he was told that he had to speak to the claims adjustment supervisor on duty. Frustratingly enough, that required another wait of almost thirty minutes while Brian was forced to listen to insipid elevator music. As time passed, he struggled with rising impatience.
“This is Ebony Wilson,” a strong, compelling, yet mellifluous voice suddenly declared, breaking through the background music. “With whom do I have the pleasure of speaking?”
Brian gave his name and then explained why he was calling, namely to discuss the denial of a claim involving a visit to the MMH Inwood Emergency Department. He went on to say that there must have been a misunderstanding and that he wanted to clear up the situation.
“I’m sure I can help,” Ebony said graciously. “Can I please have your Peerless Health Insurance policy number?”
Brian gave the number, enunciating each letter and number so there would be no mistakes and he could get this done as quickly as possible.
“Just a moment, please,” Ebony said. In the next instant Brian found himself back to suffering through more background music. He knew that it was supposed to be calming, but under the circumstances it was having the opposite effect. Just when he was ready to figuratively scream, Ebony’s assertive and pleasant voice returned. “Okay, Mr. Murphy,” she said. “I have the claim here in front of me. It’s from Manhattan Memorial Hospital Inwood concerning an Emergency Department visit for Emma Murphy. Is this correct?”