If time is money, then Medicare Part D, which I have yet to use even once, has already cost me more than I will ever cost the government.
First, you may recall, was my quest of many days for the perfect drug plan. In retrospect, it does not seem coincidental that I chose to do this while others were celebrating the Fourth of July ? a holiday that reminds us this is a great country, and one that since 1965 has provided its venerable old folks with health care in the form of Medicare.
A few years back, in its first major refinement, drug coverage was added to the program: Part D. But it?s a Rube Goldberg contraption in which private insurance companies, on behalf of the government, manage the plans.
Even though I?m new the game, it?s already clear these private insurers don?t do their part nearly as well as the government itself handles Parts A and B, hospital and physician care. I?ve twice used Part B, and effortlessly. Part D, alas, has already made me wonder if the people who simply throw up their hands and sign up for the first solicitation to arrive in the mail aren?t smarter than smarty-pants me.
They may be saving themselves some aggravation but not, it turns out, much money. In the October issue of the journal Health Affairs, researchers report that only 5.2 percent of Medicare Part D beneficiaries manage to choose the most economical plan. There are 1,736 plans nationwide, with different deductibles, premiums, formularies and the like. Among the researchers? speculations as to why people were making such bad decisions was how much time and research it takes to sort through all these options.
Older people, the researchers found, tended to overspend the most. Some government assistance for navigating this maze, the journal said, would be helpful.
And how. If you?ve any doubt about it, let me tell you about my long quest for the simplest imaginable service: to have my $26 monthly premium billed to my credit card. Even this turns out to be like a scene out of Kafka.
What with trying to figure out which drugs are covered in which amounts by whom under what circumstances ? well, I had already spent a lot of time talking to my insurer. Each of those conversations left me with another list of reference numbers, authorization numbers, confirmation numbers ? none of them ever the same. I dutifully wrote the numbers down and kept them in a file. I have no idea what they are for and yet am terrified that I might lose them.
The nice gentleman who signed me up in July gave me a 19-digit confirmation number, which filled three lines on a supersize Post-It. He also gave me his sales department phone number in Pittsburgh ? because I insisted. His point of view was that his duties had ended now that I was enrolled. The phone number that mattered to me henceforth, he said, was for ?member services.??
Back then, he instructed me that when my second monthly bill arrived (Why second? Should I have asked?) I was to call member services and transfer the billing onto a credit card or some other automatic means of payment. When that day rolled around, I found the toll-free number for members and, after a routine amount of ?press 1 if you?re calling about this,? I got a live person. Lucky for me she was lovely, as we were on the phone for a very long time.
First she needed my member ID, which I didn?t even know I had but found on my bill. Since it is a series of letters, we read it back and forth repeatedly: ?M, as in mother; E as in elephant, B as in boy?? ? eight little alphabet games in all. The day was sunny when we started but dark when we were done with Part 1 of our transaction.
Then I gave her my credit card number, expiration date and secret Dick Tracy code. That went fast, since there were no letters. But to my dismay, this took care of only the October payment. She would next send me an official letter authorizing the credit card process to go forward.
Associated with that letter, expected in 5 to 10 business days, was, yes, a 9-digit number. I don?t know if it was a ?reference,? ?confirmation? or ?authorization? number. I was too tired to ask.
Once I received, signed and returned the official letter, two or three billing cycles would pass before the credit card deduction went into effect. I will get an invoice each of those months, then will call member services again and repeat this process. For this bit of business, I am in receipt of a reference ID, a string of 12 numbers that, of course, match none of the others I?ve gotten already or may get in the future. When the invoices stop coming, I?ll know the credit card setup is in effect.
In addition, the helpful rep gave me an authorization number, apparently attesting that I understood what had just transpired. That number was a mere six digits. Of course, I wrote it down. Of course, I understood the conversation ? even if I remain doubtful I can have it two or three more times without shrieking like a crazy person.
But all of this mystic numerology has left me with the nagging sense that I won?t get those monthly invoices. What if something goes wrong? How long before I find myself in the crosshairs of a collection agency, my credit rating at risk over my unpaid $26 monthly Part D plan?
The lady on the phone clearly was more optimistic than me, still chipper several hours and many mysterious numbers later. She wished me a belated happy birthday. She told me the number I was to call when the next invoice came: good old member services again. I?ll be spending more time with them, apparently.
?Would you be willing to take a customer service satisfaction survey before we hang up??? she asked.
?No, thank you,?? I said. ?But you?re a very nice lady and it was lovely to talk to you.??
Source: http://newoldage.blogs.nytimes.com/2012/11/01/part-d-part-2/
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