I Am a Health Care Sisyphus

Last March, I wrote about the struggle to initiate my health insurance with Blue Cross Blue Shield of Illinois.

Despite receiving (and paying) two bills, I remained without coverage. I was told several times that while the bills correctly listed my chosen plan and ID number, I didn't exist in any database that would lead to actual coverage.

I had to wait—even if the bills didn't.

In that post, I concluded that Blue Cross' billing department seemed to be the only one able to accomplish anything, and as such ought to be running the show.

That was premature. It turns out they just needed a little time to catch-up to the rest of the company.

From January through July, I was able to pay my bill via telephone, ensuring next month's coverage was, well, covered. It was the only aspect of my plan that was simple, consistent and trouble-free.

But simple, consistent and trouble-free don't jibe with the BCBSIL business model. Complicated, labyrinthine and convoluted do. Which are the reasons I presume OrbiPay was discontinued.

In place of OrbiPay on the August bill was a phone number which didn't contain the promised functionality (at least if the prompts on the menu can be believed). Who knows, maybe if I had recited the Magna Carta in Latin, farted three times and screamed “Death to ObamaCare! Let a free and unregulated marketplace decide our health care choices!” it might have relented.

After several excruciating attempts, I resorted to calling OrbiPay, where lo and behold I was able to make my payment.

September and October have presented larger challenges.

The number listed on the bill again refused to reveal its check-by-phone option in September, and despite being listed on the BCBSIL web site, OrbiPay was no longer in service. I at last reached a human being by dialing a third number and overriding its voice recognition software.

Things didn't go so smoothly this month.

OrbiPay is still dead—and still listed on the BCBSIL web site. (What does it cost to update a web site, anyway? Fifty-million? A hundred-million? A couple hundred bucks?) The number listed on the bill, which again promises to accept payments by phone, won't accept mine. Ditto the number I used in September.

I finally reached a human being after launching a stream of invectives into the receiver at the voice recognition software.

The operator who answered was not able to tell me why my payment had been refused, nor why OrbiPay's number is still listed on the BCBSIL web site. She was able to offer a one-time telephone payment that is somehow different from other telephone payments so that my account might be brought up to date.

Remarkably, the story doesn't end there.

Yesterday I received a customer service questionnaire from BCBSIL, which is certainly laudable. It wanted to know how they did.

I clicked away at the 'Take Our Survey' button, eager to respond.

The little round icon in the upper left-hand corner that tells me the browser is searching for the page went 'round and 'round and 'round. Then it went 'round and 'round some more. It stopped about the time I began to think I was watching the introduction to Vertigo.

The result? Server Not Found.

I realize now fault lies with me. I expected something. And that is where I consistently go wrong with Blue Cross Blue Shield of Illinois.

If I wasn't so exhausted by the struggle to deliver money to a multi-billion-dollar health care behemoth, I'd accuse them of wanting to be a non-profit. Or some other kind of dirty, filthy Obama-styled socialist.

But we all know what a joke that would be, don't we? This is a company that eliminated credit cards as a method of payment. Guess those swipe fees were killing them.

I can hardly wait for the inflated premiums and astronomical deductibles I am told lie in wait for Illinois customers in November.

I'm sure they will be difficult to pay as well.

The Wrong Men

No one enjoys a good, old-fashioned protest more than I. People not only getting angry, but getting involved and organizing and devoting time to the expression of that discontent is at the very heart of my definition of democracy.

We the people countering a war, Wall Street greed or police brutality forcefully but peacefully is such a powerful thing. I mean, Twitter rants are wonderful, but they're just not the same.

But protests can be misdirected and ill-informed just as often as they're consciousness-raising, life-changing events. Case in point would be the Seattle chapter of Black Lives Matter interrupting a small public get-together celebrating Social Security and Medicare.

Democratic presidential candidate Bernie Sanders unwittingly became the target of these passionate—but misguided—protesters when they took the stage and demanded those in attendance hold Sanders accountable for police brutality and gentrification and the disparity of Seattle's public schools.

Perhaps they had confused Sanders with Baltimore police chief Anthony Batts or some generic law and order, right-wing Republican. But publicly harassing Sanders on the one-year anniversary of Michael Brown's death and demanding that he be held accountable?

Wow. Just wow. Guess all us white folk look alike.

If I was only mildly supportive of Black Lives Matter before this event, you can imagine my enthusiasm afterwards. Sorry, but I am not convinced that each and every police shooting of a black person is unjustified or the act of a runaway law enforcement agency drunk on its own authority.

Yes, there is a great deal wrong with the relationship between law enforcement and African-Americans, and only a moron would say otherwise. Yes, it definitely needs an infusion of understanding and mutual respect.

But I would like to see the folk who constitute Black Lives Matter march through the ghetto with their message and confront the gang-bangers, drug dealers and garden variety thugs who kill young black men at a rate that dwarfs that of the police.

Just for starters, I would like to see a gun-toting gang-banger informed that black lives matter. Then we can move on to law enforcement.

People, let's be clear: Michael Brown is not a martyr. And Bernie Sanders is not your enemy.

Riffing on the Movies

It’s a bit odd that I don’t post more often about movies, considering their profound impact on me. So many of the most fulfilling moments of my life have been spent in darkened theaters, given over to an absorbing story line playing out on a giant silver screen.

How could I forget the nights of my youth, taking in the cinematic wonders of the thirties, forties and fifties flickering for free on late night TV? Or seeing The Godfather, Raging Bull, The Last Emperor and The Painted Veil in a theater? They looked like beautiful gems on a black velvet pillow.

Like you, I have my favorites. In addition to the above, there’s Out of the Past, Vertigo, Picnic at Hanging Rock, It’s a Wonderful Life, The Last Picture Show, The Wrestler, La Strada, Network, The Unbearable Lightness of Being and Casablanca. And Fargo, The Hustler, A Streetcar Named Desire and Ikiru. And Rashomon and Citizen Kane and Mulholland Drive.

Can I really ignore Lawrence of Arabia, Chinatown, The Treasure of the Sierra Madre or 12 Angry Men? Or Mr. Roberts, The Shawshank Redemption and One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest?

Hell no.

Just to make it an even thirty, let’s throw in His Girl Friday and My Cousin Vinny. (I don’t broadcast the fact, but yes—I like to laugh. Sometimes.)

Billy Wilder, Alfred Hitchcock, Martin Scorsese, Akira Kurosawa and Roman Polanski are geniuses. John Huston, Werner Herzog, Steven Spielberg, Federico Fellini, Sidney Lumet and Peter Weir aren’t far behind.

Which leaves out Sydney Pollack, the Coen brothers, Stanley Kubrick, Bryan Forbes, Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu, John Schlesinger, Robert Altman and Anthony Minghella!

Crap. No wonder I don’t post more about film.

As best I can, I reckon I have seen approximately 1,057 movies in their entirety. The decade most often represented is the eighties, which makes sense since a.) I was young, and b.) had disposable income.

I have seen more of Hitchcock's films than any other director’s, and find it very appropriate that, given the extravagant imagery of his films, Fellini died on Halloween.

In a really peculiar bit of coincidence, the countries which produce my favorite cars are also the country of origin for my favorite foreign-language films (Japan, Italy and Germany).

I tend to like movies featuring conflicted and troubled individuals. Individuals facing dilemmas, moral and otherwise.

That said, I love film noir. It is, without a doubt, my favorite genre. And for my money, Out of the Past is the ne plus ultra of the species. Razor-sharp dialogue, great cinematography and one of the best performances of Robert Mitchum’s career.

Not surprisingly, the female lead--Jane Greer--is my femme fatale of all-time. Her Kathie Moffat has a heart colder than a stripper’s smile. To borrow a line from the Gene Hackman movie Heist, she could talk her way out of a sunburn.

This is also one of Kirk Douglas’ earliest films, and for an actor lampooned for his over-the-top performances, he turns in a taut, no-frills one here, conveying a violent menace barely contained by a cool exterior.

OK. That's the end of this post. If you’re of a mind to, leave your favorites in the comments section. I am nothing if not curious.

The Trouble with Harry

Years ago, while reading Anne Rice’s Interview with the Vampire, I was struck by the predicament of Claudia, a small child turned into a vampire at the tender age of six. While she continued to develop intellectually, she was trapped in the body of a small girl.

Depending on how you look at it, Claudia was either blessed with or consigned to eternal childhood.

Which brings us to Prince Harry.

Imagine life in the most vertical social strata on planet Earth. Barring the most tragic happenstance, Harry is relegated to a lifetime as number-two. It doesn’t matter how well he masters it, he will likely never be king. He is a substitute. A back-up. A three-dimensional, carbon-based insurance policy for the United Kingdom.

It is a future as confining as it is secure.

Harry was frolicking recently in Las Vegas, where he was photographed playing billiards with a female companion. Innocent enough, except that the would-be emperor had no clothes.

While many of us will scratch our heads and wonder what he was thinking, still others will ask simply why not? Does it really matter what Harry does? Why not play strip billiards, even with a cell phone camera in the room?

After all, it’s not as if he has to worry about appeasing a prospective employer, is it? His prospects are neither hurt nor enhanced by his behavior. Harry's path is etched in stone. Harry is Jeff Bridges in Fearless. Bill Murray in Groundhog Day. And Claudia from Interview with the Vampire.

His future is very unlikely to change.

Harry is a young man with everything—except the ability to alter his career path. For all the wealth and the privilege and the fame and even the eager young women, I don’t envy Harry much.

Thumbing your nose at consequence can’t be very fulfilling when so few consequences exist.