Why am I here?

Why am I here? Not existentially or anything. I'm happy to say that I am because I am. Why am I writing on my blog in the middle of the night?

Because, I can never sleep after having words with the collectors or the insurance. I have to do something else until I am so tired I can go to sleep. Tonight is probably the worst it has been yet.

So. I'm balancing my checkbook (I'm one of the people that does that). I'm looking through my bills (two were lost last month---for real, not that phoney kind of lost that you get from collection agencies). I'll obviously have to send them again.

I went through my tapes hoping to get that first conversation I had with the collection agency. Alas, I wasn't expecting their phone call and I didn't get it recorded.

I'm looking now for the last letter that I got from Linda's insurance where they did the post-review of her speech therapy. In summary it said, "You were right her speech therapy was necessary. We've approved it. But we've decided that now it isn't." I want to drop them a letter telling them they don't know what they are talking about. They've been paying for her speech, which is kind of a tacit approval of necessity. But if I don't have them a piece of paper before 180 days goes by, they'll count it as some kind of tactical victory and try to pressure me by saying our rights in court might be diminished.

The insurance is particularly two-faced in that way. They'll send you a negative in writing, but on the phone be positive. ``It's just a coding error. Have it resubmitted.'' Then after 180 days of running around, they'll tell you that your lack of a written request for an appeal might hurt your case in court.

That might be true, I suspect, if you didn't record all of your telephone calls.