Bills...

Unbelievable.

I received a notice from Northside Hospital for P__'s stay from October 18-23. I had already received a bill for the 23-24 ($250 for our part of the bill), but no bill for the 18th through the 23rd. The notice stated that "since your insurance hasn't paid this bill, would you please contact them and request payment? If not, you'll be responsible for the full bill," after which, they listed an exhorbinant amount.

So I call the insurance company and ask what the problem is. Turns out, they not only have sent a check out to Northside, but the check has been cashed.

This same insurance company did not have a contract with Northside for the better part of a month. I remember mentioning an article that was in the St. Petersburg (FL) Times about the lack of a contract between our insurance companies and the HCA chain to P__ before his/her hospital stay; a contract wasn't reached until after P__'s death. While I had the insurance company on the phone, I mentioned that I really felt that they should not have renewed the contract. The gentleman on the line asked why, and I gave him a brief rundown.

"Oh, really," he said. "Let me bring up another screen on my computer. Do you mind if I write up a report on this and give it to my supervisor?"

"Give the report to the CEO of your company, too, if you want. I think that would be great."

I gave him the info he needed (as well as the address for this blog), after which he said that he would be passing on the information. (Thank you, sir, if you're reading this.)

I then called Northside, informed them I had just gotten off the phone with the insurance company and was told, "Oops. Our mistake. Sorry."

Yeah, right.

This past week, I received a bill from Northside. They wanted $1,250.

So, I called the number on the bill and was told by a woman that she couldn't talk to me without P__'s permission. "S/he died. You'll have to talk to me."

"Okay." No "I'm so sorry for your loss" or any of the other canned phrases used for times like this. Just "Okay."

I offered to pay $10 a month, but was informed that I had two choices: 1) I could pay the entire amount in one lump sum or 2) they could graciously break the bill down into four easy payments. Those were my options.

Excuse me. The hospital staff (at least the ones on the floor) kill my spouse, my monthly income is lowered by the amount of P__'s monthly checks, and I'm suddenly offered the chance of paying off a $1,250 in four easy payments.

Again, I offer to send in monthly payments of $10, but am informed that "that is totally unacceptable", at which point, I inform the woman on the phone that I'd be sending the bill to my attorney for him to handle.

Dead silence, then, "Your attorney? Why do you have an attorney?"

"I'm sorry, but that's all I'm able to say at this time."

"Are you planning to file suit against Northside?"

Again, I responded that I was not at liberty to say. "However," I did inform her, "considering that, while P__ did get good care in the CCU, the fact that s/he was transferred to the floor rather than Bayfront after being stablized, and s/he subsequently died in part because of incompetent care disturbs me."

That got her attention. "P__'s dead? As in...Dead?" Well, last time I checked, dead was usually dead. And very pissed off is, well, not a happy camper.

"Yes, P__ died in Northside."

"And you have an attorney."

"Yes."

If backtracking were an Olympic sport, I'd be willing to bet that I heard someone in contention for a Gold Medal. "You know, I think we can forget about this bill. I feel that that is the least we can do."

After ascertaining that yes, indeed, the bill no longer needed to be paid, I asked her what her name was. I figured that, should the bill show up again, a name would be nice.

"I don't think that my name is needed," was the last thing I heard before the line went dead.

And, yes, dead is usually dead.

And the bill is on its way to the attorney's office. The same attorney's office I informed about the bill.