When I was single I could care less what kind of health insurance I had. It really wasn’t a big deal. Most of my injuries were basketball related and I could tough them out (unless something was broken). After I got married, that all changed. Things got more serious when we found out we were pregnant. That meant she had to go to the doctor regularly. I had a fleeting thought of going old school and taking care of everything “in-house”. Very fleeting. Who could blame me though? This was my baby. My flesh and blood. I didn’t want a random doctor dealing with this. Enter the dreaded HMO. We decided to give it a shot. The HMO provider shall remain nameless to protect its identity, but we heard good things about it.
Our first visit everything went great. We got in, got our ultrasound, I saw little Johnny, got a nice little sonogram picture, and I was amped. Things started to go south from there. We got there for our second visit and saw a different doctor. Hold up, where’s Dr. X? Oh, we split patients between us…so I’ll be seeing you today. For real lady? On top of that, this heifer lady walked in the room and spoke only to my wife. She said nothing to me. Excuse me! Husband is present. There are 24 million kids that go to bed every night without a father around. I’m not one of them. Strike #1.