I'm A Double Threat: Infertile AND Uninsurable (Tuesday)

(Start with "Monday" if you can. Mondays are like the GPS of my blog. They head you in the right direction for the rest of the week. Although I know someone who plugged an address into GPS and was directed to make a right turn through a tree....And if you'd like to be led astray by me once more on the weekends with more of my nonsense and some insider blog scoops, please subscribe. I'd love to have you.) So, what were we talking about? Oh right. The best part of infertility treatments.... Paying for them. Exciting no... Important... frankly not to me... but it probably is to the person with the calculator at the doctor's office. You know, the person who works for the doctor who's providing the treatments that might help you have a baby... so I guess making those payments should matter to us afterall.  

There are about a million jobs I would rather not have. And ironically, I've had most of them. So this isn't an uniformed statement. I've had the job and now know I'd rather not have it again.

But there are about ten jobs that I would really hate to have. Collections of any sort is right up there. (I guess it's technically the "Billing" department. It just seems that by the time I get around to making my first paltry payment it's already become the "Collections" department.)

I think that most of the billing people I've dealt with at the fertility clinics have been pretty decent.

I say "I think" because it's hard to hear much of anything that anybody says to you when you're busy crying and begging. And it's almost impossible to hear anything when you're crying and begging into your knees in a crumpled heap on the floor in front of their desk.

If I had to work in billing/collections I would have to collect on something that didn't matter that much. Like winter clothing in the summer. "Hi Mr. Jones. This is Lori from Don's Jacket Farm. You never paid your bill for that ski jacket you bought in January. Here we are in July, it's 87 degrees outside, and there's still an outstanding balance. I'm afraid we're going to have to take the jacket back."

I think I wouldn't mind trying to get money from people who bought "As Seen On TV" products either. 

"Good afternoon Ms. Williams. I'm calling about your Bacon Genie.... Our records show that we've never received your payment on this exclusive offer of $19.95.... No ma'am you are not on a 'six easy payments of $3.32 a month' plan. We ask that you kindly send us the payment within three business days or return the Bacon Genie. And... please, Ms. Williams...Keep the rubber spatula and the 'Artery De-Clog-O-Matic' as our free gifts to you just for trying the Bacon Genie."     

But I don't think I'd be comfortable collecting funds for an infertility clinic. Even though they don't have to be mean or ruthless. And some can be extremely helpful. There might be solutions or at least suggestions that they can offer. I did get a discount on one of my go-rounds. I mean, gee, I was so pathetic-looking, sitting there boo-hooing. Who could say "no" to that face?

On the one hand the decent billing people...and I truly believe most of them are... feel for your situation and will help in anyway they can.... On the other hand, if she doesn't get the money from you, the people who pay her don't get paid. Then they in turn have no money to put into the account from which her bi-weekly check is paid and then her check bounces around town faster than the free rubber spatula.

So even though I would like the opportunity to help people going through treatments to explore payment options and less expensive treatment options, I still don't think I have the heart or at least the stomach to work in Billing at a fertility clinic... unless, of course, it involved commission.

"Look! You people owe us 15,000 simoleons. 1500 of that is mine!  Tut tut, none of your whiny excuses! Yeah I feel sorry for ya. But sympathy don't put gas in the Jag. Now fork it over or there  are a couple of guys in Jersey who will come and unblock your tubes for ya.... Whether or not they're blocked."

Listen, I gotta go.  I have to be on the midnight train to Georgia. I'd rather live in his world, than live without him in mine.... This, by the way is the first sign of senility: You can't remember what you went into the hall closet for, but you remember the words to songs from when you were five...okay...nine.... Maybe I can go on "Don't Forget the Lyrics" Seniors Edition. No songs from after 1970.

I'll talk with ya again tomorrow. Check out Kevin Haney's post about this very topic (infertility finances, not Gladys Knight hits) at:  http://laughingisconceivable.com/?page_id=1623. And if I haven't lost you already, you have a strong constitution and might enjoy being a subscriber. So please consider it.