Cider Press Hill

When confidentiality laws bite

Wednesday, 8:23 pm

By Kate

Nov

01

2006

overcast

So the phone rings and the woman on the other end asks for my ex-husband by name. “Is [he] there?” she asked. “Whooo?” I asked back.

[Him]” she said.

“No,” I said.

“Okay, thank you,” she said.

“Wait a second,” I said, “Who are you?”

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I’m calling for [him].”

“Ma’am,” I said, “You are calling MY house asking for my ex-husband. I have a right to ask who you are and why you are calling MY house.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, “that is confidential.”

And then I knew who she was. The billing department for the lad’s pediatrician. Because, you see, since a certain state law was passed a couple of years ago, they love to bill ME for the insurance co-pay amounts, but they refuse to talk to me about anything related to the bills because the lad’s medical insurance is in the ex’s name. After the lad’s pre-college visit to the doc for his hepatitis update shot, I received the bill and I paid the co-pay and they truly, really, literally sent my check back to me because I’m me and not him. I dunno...go figure. When did these people get so picky about who paid the bill?!

So, I said to her, “Are you from Dr. X’s office?”

“Um, yes,” she said.

“Fine,” I said. “If you are calling in reference to the outstanding co-pay bill that I paid and which you sent back to me, then I suggest you contact [him]. He does not live at this address nor does he share my phone number.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, “but this is the address and phone number on record. If there has been a change, he must submit the information.”

“He did,” I said. “At least three times already. In fact, he has never lived at this address and I don’t know how your computer system decided that he did. I suggest that if you want payment, you write his address and phone number down again and call HIM.”

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do that,” she said.

“Well, fine,” I said, “but just let me state for the record that you can call my house twenty times a day for the next week and you will never, ever find him here. He.Does.Not.Live.Here. He Never Has.”

“Thank you,” she said.

So the situation is unresolved and the Dad said he’s not going to write to them a fourth time because it’s a waste of time, since, evidently, no one ever does anything with his letters anyway. I told him to just write the damned check. I’ll reimburse him. What in heaven’s name must happen when this kind of thing happens between parents who absolutely can not and do not have any communication? I can’t imagine.

What a screwed up system.