It's that time of year again. New health insurance. My husband's company likes to try a new plan each and every year. Sometimes I don't blame them if the plan from the year before was wretched (like last year's plan), but what it means for me is that each and every January for the past several years, I have had to scramble to find a new psychiatrist.
So here we go again. It's not easy to find a psychiatrist in this town, let me tell ya! Not easy to find one anywhere, really. So it's the endless rounds of phone calls, leaving messages, etc.
And if I'm lucky, after making a couple of dozen calls, I might find someone in-network who is taking new patients and who sees teenagers.
Continuity of care is not a high priority for our current health care system, which is most definitely catch-as-catch-can.
And this year's plan is the sort where you have to get pre-authorization for mental health treatments. I'm always afraid with that, that they will cut us off.
I want to crawl in a hole and cry. Not really about the insurance stuff...that's just icing on the whole mental health cake. No, actually, about all the stuff that is the reason we need this sort of medical care in the first place. The unbloggables.
Pray for me.