California Health Insurance Agents Offer Medigap Coverage
Thursday, May 7th, 2009Evelyn Saguaro had a gall bladder issue that needed surgery, but her Medicare coverage wouldn’t pay for the procedure. But once she realized that she already had visited a California Health Insurance Agent to deal with what she called “her delicate matter,” she felt enormously relieved.
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Sixty-seven-year-old Evelyn Saguaro had the same problem her late mother had once been afflicted with. Besides her real gall bladder, she’d been born with a vestigial secondary one in which three cactus-like gallstones, each about the size of a quarter, had formed. Late in life, the vestigial gall bladder’s gallstones were starting to act up. Sharp pains would erupt beneath her breastbone immediately after she ate even a tiny serving of anything, and the acute pain made her sick to her stomach. When her doctor ordered tests to identify where the symptoms were originating from, he told Evelyn that her Medicare Plan only covered her original gall bladder, and since the stones had formed in the vestigial one, any procedure to remove them in “her unique case” would not be reimbursed. Her primary care physician kidded with her. “I suggest you refrain from eating,” he said. “Are you serious?” she asked. “No, a better idea might be to seek out a California Health Insurance agent.”
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That’s when she realized that she had done just that, two years previously. Was her Medigaps supplemental still in force? She headed on a beeline to the Visalia office where she’d purchased the Medigap coverage. Was the office still there? It was. The same agent, Glenda, was at her familiar desk. During their previous conversation which she’d somehow forgotten, Glenda had shared with her that she too had a “vestigial gall bladder,” with its associated symptomology not yet evident. Glenda had even belonged to an online organization, a regular support group called VGB Sufferers International.”
“Glenda, I’m so glad to see you,” Evelyn began. “Is my Medigaps policy still in effect?”
“Why wouldn’t it be, dear? Let me check.”
Evelyn waited expectantly. Suddenly her gallstone pain returned with a vengeance. “Is it? She asked, almost gasping.
“Of course it is, my dear Mrs. Saguaro.” A month later, Evelyn’s surgery was successful and her cacti-shaped stones were displayed on her mantle, and on the VGB Sufferers website as a digital photo – for all to see.
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Andy’s parents, Don and Jane, were a little opportunistic, some might say exploitive. Andy was diagnosed with progeria at three, and by the time he was four, the condition was in full swing. The little boy only three feet tall looked around seventy-eight. He was cute as most toddlers go, but not in the traditional sense. His little wispy growth of hair was beyond gray, more a fading white, like old man snow. It was a little like that Brad Pitt movie. Wrinkles lined his face like detour lines, directing the traffic of his experience in the wrong direction. But his curse was not the rare, incurable disease, but was instead Andy’s parents. They not only failed to love their son, they weren’t above exploiting him for personal gain, if they could find an angle.
Sam had a decent job, was engaged to be married to a beautiful girl, and watched college basketball’s annual March Madness on his newly purchased 50 inch Sharp brand flat screen as if the games were all that mattered. His favorite team was Fresno State, but he also liked Pepperdine and Gonzaga, the latter because NBA great John Stockton had once played there. In fact, he was in the kitchen, opening a can of tuna, when Pepperdine was playing Gonzaga in an exciting Elite 8 match up. It had been halftime, but now the second half was just starting. The commentary was fierce, and he was missing the game. The tuna can was stubborn and the can opener was like the television, sharp, sharper than most knives. Sam wasn’t paying enough attention. The way he held the opener, and the angle of the can, and the force he was mustering. He slipped, felt a sudden surge of pain, also sharp. Was that blood gushing out of a wound in the webbing between his index finger and his thumb? It was. The can of tuna crashed to the floor. “What a mess,” Sam said, while gritting his teeth, and he wasn’t referring only to the spilled tuna.
