My boss thought it would be a good idea for me to attend a one-day seminar on Medicare. We do see Medicare patients from time-to-time, and the more I know about the Medicare process, the better for the practice. So he paid the sixty bucks and I spent the day in a Marriott ballroom learning all about Medicare 101.
Who makes this stuff up? I'm convinced that nerds from all over the country get their revenge in one simple way. Medical Insurance. And the biggest nerds write the rules for Medicare.
I know we need it. Thank God we have it. But I cannot imagine for one minute that anyone really enjoys working with this stuff. Prior to my full-time writing career, I slaved in the medical field for a good many years. I learned enough enough about the insurance process to get the job done and supervise others to do the job for me. But to study it? Get excited about it? Memorize the ICD-9 and CPT codes?
I'd rather not, thank you very much.
The room buldged with women (of course) who work in medical offices all over the state. Some of them, you could tell, have spent their life working claims, dealing with irate patients, doctors, and administrators. It showed. Their faces and personalities were lined with endless years of dealing with this stuff. Of being stapled to their desks, tied to their phones, glued to their computers. It alters ones personality and eventually, it'll kill you. I'm convinced.
I, of course, sat at the back of the room and observed it all from a different point of view. Now, that's not to say I didn't get something out of it. I did. It truly is my desire to do a great job for my boss, he's such a good guy, and I appreciate his position. He heart is in the right place, as the man really cares for his patients and their welfare. So, I gathered as much from the conference as I could, asked a few questions, made some notes, and went home. I had to at least get sixty bucks worth to take back to the office with me. Right?
But oh, my, gosh. At one point I sat in the back of the room and laughed. (To myself, of course.) Why in the world would anyone indulge in this type of self-torture for a living? I was ready to slit my wrists.
And then it occurred to me. A story line. A character came into view. She works medical claims by day and walks the street by night. Hmmm.
It's amazing what you can walk away with from a Medicare conference.
Blessings to you and yours.