About once every six weeks a gentle sounding Yank by the name of Ted gives me a call. He’s a consultant clinical psychologist that my medical insurance fund employs by way of another company to keep a track on crazy folk like me. I’ve never met Ted. I don’t know Ted from a bar of soap but at the start of the year I received a letter introducing me to the concept that my health fund could be all friendly-like and provide me with crisis (or not-so-crisis) counseling services over the phone.
I’m still not entirely sure what Ted is meant to do precisely, and it’s not like I have any intention of providing him with a realistic assesment of how I’m actually doing. I’m not quite that stooopid. There’s this thing called privacy, you see and no matter how many times Ted assures me that the calls are confidential somehow I get the feeling that’s slightly less than completely true. Gee, it could just be me but the tip-off tends to be when Ted reminds me at the start of each call that it’s being recorded, and if I’d like it turned off I should just go ahead and ask. I always ask.
So every six weeks we have a ritual 2 minute phone conversation that basically has me lying through my teeth: Yes, I’m great. Just fantastic, really. Oh, yeah, my mood is fine. A little up and down but you know, stable and it’s all good. (Hah.)
I’m sure Ted must know I’m lying. It has to be pretty obvious, that or he thinks my medication is doing an inordinately super job. I mean, he has my medical history so he knows I’ve been in therapy for longer than Zeus. I’m always a bit surprised he bothers to keep calling me. Surely he has better things to do? Surely this cannot be fulfilling for him either – there are, presumably, people who might actually accept his cheery DIY tips for mood assessment and maintenance?
Ted tells me he can’t actually offer therapy of any kind but can offer solid, practical advice for how to handle my present situation. The problem being he knows absolutely nothing about my present situation, and I’ve no intention of clueing him in. Just when exactly did my health fund decide that because I have mental health issues I am therefore a gullible fool longing for their insight into staying well? Somehow I don’t think my insurance company (aka demons in human form) is likely to offer me any actual, sustainable help.
There is, apparently, a crisis line I could call should I feel suicidal or self-injurious. Well, whoop-de-frickin’-do. Can you tell I’m excited? I’ve never called a crisis line in my life, and I’m certainly not going to start now. I’m sure the offer of help is made with at least a minimum degree of sincerity but come on! I’ll know I’m really in trouble when I get desperate enough to start spilling my guts to an insurance agent or a proxy thereof. At least the folks at Lifeline couldn’t put anything on my permanent record.
And as if I want to share the intimate details of the horror show which is my general mood and demeanor with some completely random psychologist who can’t even look me in the eye as he dolls out the appropriate platitudes and handy hints I have heard before. And believe me, I have heard.it.all.before and therein lies the problem. If only I could make Ted feel useful at the same time as not actually giving him any information whatsoever because truly I don’t feel like sharing. At least not when it’s my future premiums on the line.
My mental health has cost me quite enough already, thanks very much.
Ick, that sounds horrible.
It’s a bit like the Employee Assistance Programme at work. Sure they say it’s confidential, but somehow I can’t trust them.
~Shiv
No wonder health insurance premiums are so high… when the companies employ useless twits like Ted.
BC/BS does the same thing to me – except that I’m a diabetic so they think that having a nurse call me once a month to assess my ‘condition’ is actually helpful. It’s actually a cost control mechanism. If they can head off a problem before it gets to something that requires significant resources to fix (read MONEY) then they’re ahead of the game.
It would be so nice to think that they were REALLY concerned about me and my health. Concerned enough to call and ask. But all they’re really concerned about is my ability to cost them money. And they can’t REALLY pretend otherwise.
Exactly, Shiv!
LOL Indeed, Bob.
Yeah, that makes sense Lou. Preventative medicine is all well and good in concept but the execution is clearly seriously lacking in this instance. It likely costs them more in sheer administrative costs than any individual has ever received in positive health outcomes.
make sure you have to give lower premium and get better coverage.