My mother recently emailed me about some trouble she washaving with her Medicare Part D plan. I believe it illustrates whyeveryone needs a good insurance agent.

Cholesterol drug: Simvastatin

Took it for a month. Side effects: muscle pain and weakness.

Doctor prescribed something else. Wasn't covered by [AcmeInsurance]. $258.

Called the doctor back. She prescribed another drug—a powderthis time. It doesn't dissolve. Result = swallowing something verysimilar to lemon-flavored beach sand.

Called the doctor again and requested a pill. She said to call[Acme] and see what cholesterol meds they cover.

10 a.m.—Call the customer service number tofind out if I'm on the basic or plus plan so I can look online forthe preferred drug list. Put on hold.

10:07 a.m.—She returns, tells me I've got thewrong department, and transfers me.

10:13 a.m.—A lady named Zee answers. I againexplain that I need to know what plan I'm on and which drugs arecovered. She puts me on hold.

10:18 a.m.—Zee returns and says she doesn'tknow what plan I'm on and can't tell me what drugs are coveredbecause that isn't her line of business. I ask her to connect mewith someone who can help me. On hold again.

10:23 a.m.—She comes back and says she can'tfind anyone who can tell me the plan, but the pharmacist can tellme about covered drugs. On hold.

10:29 a.m.—Some woman named Alex answers.Listens. Tells me she has to transfer me. On hold again.

10:32 a.m.—Someone I absolutely cannotunderstand picks up. I try to explain. He can't understand meeither. On hold.

10:35 a.m.—Charles answers. I again explain. Hecan't help me because it's not his area. On hold again.

10:40 a.m.—Zee comes back on the line, thanksme for holding, and tells me that she can now transfer me to thepharmacist. On hold again.

10:47 a.m.—Charles is back. He escapes again.On hold.

10:54 a.m.—We're back to Zee. She says hi likewe're old friends. I mumble. On hold again.

10:59 a.m.—Some guy named John says he can helpme resolve my problem with (some heart medication I've never heardof). I tell him I don't have heart problems and have never takenthat drug but suggest he go ahead and tell me about it because I'msure I'll need it before the morning's over. He doesn't understandmy sense of humor. I explain the situation and ask, once again,which plan I'm on and which cholesterol drugs are covered. On holdagain.

11:12 a.m.—John is back—he has the list! Do Ihave a pen and pencil, he asks (yes, pen and pencil). He starts spellingout the drugs. After No. 5, I ask how many there are. He says,after counting, 23. I ask if he can email, fax, or mail the list tome. No, they don't have that capability. I ask who does. No one. Iask for a supervisor. He is the supervisor.

Then I let him have it. SOMEONE… SOMEWHERE… in the Acmeorganization has to have a computer, a printer, a piece of paper, astamp—some way to get the information to me without me having towrite down EVERY SINGLE DRUG!

11:24 a.m.—John is silent. I'm hyperventilating– feeling like I need him to send paramedics and a huge dose of theheart medicine he told me about earlier. Finally, John asks, “Areyou aware we're in the Philippines?” I say no, I asked for a Texasnumber in the beginning and thought we were still in the UnitedStates. Nope, I was transferred by good ol' Zee.

“After my shift,” he says, “I will copy the list and email it toyou from home. I'm not supposed to, but I will.”

I say thank you and we hang up. It's 11:28 a.m.

I still don't know if I'm on the basic or plus plan. And I don'tknow what to tell my doctor. “Acme sucks” covers it for me, butshe'll probably want more info. 

And I'm pretty sure John will go home and have a stiff drink andforget all about emailing me the list.