Latest Health Care Insurance Woes

by Diane Mayer Christiansen
UPDATE:

March 15, 2010 2:00pm

Shot down by the insurance company again! Yes, today I received a letter in the mail from my husbands company, telling me that my son’s therapies for autism are not covered by our policy. Shocker! Here’s what bothers me the most:

The insurance company contests that my son is receiving Sensory Integration Therapy and since that type of therapy is considered “experimental” they can not cover it.
Okay…first of all J is not receiving therapies for Sensory Integration. I’ve explained this time and time again. I’ve sent letters from doctors and therapists telling them this time and time again. Every time someone tells them the therapies are Speech and Feeding, they somehow magically turn that into Sensory Integration.

Secondly, he did have Sensory Integration therapy several years ago, that I paid for. Unbeknown to the Insurance company, I am well versed in their lingo, after all, I’ve been battling the beast for seven years. I feel like I’m in this battle of good verses evil and the monster is barring his sharp teeth daring me to flee…but I can’t…it’s my son we’re fighting for.

The truth is, I just don’t understand why we’re fighting at all. Isn’t insurance about us paying our monthly fees and them taking care of our medical needs? I don’t care if any of my son’s therapies are “experimental”. They’re helping him. Looks like the insurance company is still just waiting until he ends up in the hospital due to malnutrition (have fun with that big bill). I think that in no time in the history of America, have so many people felt so completely misunderstood by medical insurance companies than today. Count me in!

Oh, and by the way…if you’re reading this Insurance Company…Not everyone is trying to take advantage of you. We’re just trying to help our kids.

March 11, 2010

Okay…the latest insurance issue: At the beginning of the new year, we were asked by the insurance company to prove that I was indeed married to my husband and that our son was really our son. I sent in my marriage license among other things as well as my son’s social security card and birth certificate. Apparently this wasn’t enough and they are questioning weather J is really my son.

OMG…really? Will they sink to any means to NOT pay. Let’s see, I distinctly remember going to the hospital for my scheduled inducement of labor. I remember vividly, how my unborn child’s heart rate became too low and how I was rushed into emergency surgery for a cesarean. I also remember thinking a was going to die as the anesthesiologist hummed the theme song from Star Wars and the many doctors crowded around me getting my son to breathe. Oh, yeah, I also vaguely remember how the insurance wouldn’t cover the cost of a Billy Blanket at home when my son was jaundice, causing me to have to stay in the hospital an extra couple of days so he could receive treatment (does this make sense?).Funny thing…I did bring a child home from the hospital seven days later.

Could it be that I imagined all of this and forged a birth certificate out of pure longing for a child? Hmmm, better not let the insurance company hear me say that.

(Read more from Diane Christiansen at www.imautisticnotartistic.com)

How My Autistic Son is Like the Incredible Hulk

“Don’t make me angry. You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.” If you were a fan of the hit television series “The Incredible Hulk” that aired from 1977-1982 those immortal words will forever be linked to memories of a sad tormented soul that was trying to find his way in a world that did not understand the demons he was fighting within. He was the mild mannered scientist David Banner who tried to maintain his composure at every turn because not doing so resulted in dire consequences. When everyone else gets angry we have a management system that we can rely on that is therapeutic to our psyche, helping us to cope in a complicated world around us. However when he gets angry, even hurt or injured, he swells up with this rage so intense that to those in his path, especially to those who do not know him and made him angry, he becomes a monster. That’s when things get broken smashed and pulverized until the gentle man hidden within can find a way to overtake his out of control alter ego.

So it is with my five year old autistic son. Make him angry and he takes a path completely different than his non-autistic counterparts. With a daze in his eyes and a split second pause, you know what’s coming, a screech, a passionate scream that if not brought under control will surely escalate to something even worse-throwing things and slamming doors. If he accidentally hurts himself, he compounds the situation by intentionally hurting himself even more, except this time with slaps to his own face and head, clawing his arm or whatever part of his body he accidentally injured.

Nothing short of an extremely patient parent can help him wrestle through the struggles of the moment. The second we see an episode about to erupt we get down to his level, look him in the eyes, hold his hands and say “Use your words. Say ‘Daddy I’m angry’” or ‘Mommy I hurt myself’”. We offer him alternatives. “You may squeeze your hands or talk about it with Mommy but you may not hurt my little boy”. This seemed like a futile exercise in the beginning until we started seeing less acting out in furor, but on the other hand as he uses his words more it does offer some hopeful yet sad insights into his feelings. “I want to hurt myself” he’ll say. Once when deciding to talk about his anger at my denying him something he shockingly told me “I want to put fire in my face”. He has no fire fetish whatsoever so I can only conclude that fire metaphorically describes how intense the battle raging within is. Thankfully he is talking more and the acting outs while still there are less frequent and acute.

David Banner was a very misunderstood person, and the Incredible Hulk is not a monster. While to the characters in his path the Hulk looked strange and his behavior was socially extreme, those of us who knew the sad man within felt a deep sense of compassion and empathy for him. Even as a ten year old child I remember like it was yesterday how sorry I felt for him. Honestly, I would get a lump in my throat at the end of every episode as he would walk down a barren desert road hitchhiking to “The Lonely Man Song”, the most brilliant piano piece put to a television series since A Charlie Brown Christmas. As he went from place to place, seeking to understand how to cure himself of his strange affliction, he’d change his name at each new location to hide his true identity so as not to be judged harshly for the wreckage he left behind. We are trying our best to make sure our son does not share in his lonely fate.