Otis, Isis and the Evil Empire

Last week was tough. Not only was there the looming threat of Earth being bombarded by massive solar storms; I also had to negotiate with my health insurance provider, Evil Inc.

It would've been easier to argue with the storms.

According to scientists, intense solar storms are slinging plasma bombs toward Earth, which could seriously disrupt global communications. According to doctors, for years I've been playing host to a half-dozen unnecessary, uninvited, undocumented residents known as diverticula, which sounds like one of the vampires I met on Facebook.

And according to Evil Inc., my chances of receiving any diverticula-based medical reimbursements are about the same as my chances of being hit on the left arm, in a Bangkok side-street at exactly 8:27 PM, by a solar plasma bomb named Alfred.

Day to day, medically-speaking, diverticula just kind of sit there, like tenured teachers. This is a medical condition known as Diverticula-Otis. But there's just not a whole lot going on, entertainment-wise, in your average colon (many rural colons don't even have high-speed internet). So sometimes, out of boredom, or just plain meanness, the Diverticula Posse will get infected, a condition known as Diverticula-Isis. (This is not to be confused with Diverticula-Osiris, which is a form of gum disease found in ancient Egyptian winged insects, from which we get the term "plaque of locusts.")

LITERARY SIDEBAR: Diverticula is the plural of univerticula, which means "one verticula." Verticula is an ancient Egyptian term that means "over-priced window treatments." It's the opposite of Horizonticula, which means "window treatments installed by my wife's idiot nephew."

So, you see, my problem is two-fold. Since my diverticula are already here, Evil Inc. considers my situation a "pre-existing condition," which is evil-health-insurance-company-speak for "not covered by your policy." But since the diverticula are, to use a highly technical medical term, "inside me," it requires a screening procedure to see if they're up to any truant behavior. And Evil Inc. insists that a "screening procedure" is "not covered by your policy."

Now if your diverticula ever do go rogue and get infected, then you need to do one of two things, depending on your health insurance provider: seek immediate medical attention, or get struck by a solar plasma bomb. Getting struck by a solar plasma bomb is known as a "non-existing condition." (Oddly enough, Evil Inc. will cover that.)

PHILOSOPHICAL SIDEBAR: Isn't every condition a pre-existing condition? How can you have a post-existing condition? If a condition isn't pre-existing, well, you don't have it yet.
Maybe that's the marketing plan at Evil Inc. We'll cover anything you don't have. If you get what you don't have, get out. From then on, you're on your own.

And to further complicate my insurance issues, my doctor recommends I submit to this preventive, potentially life-saving screening procedure, called a "colonoscopy," simply because I've reached the age of 50. Imagine! As if my doctor should have anything to say about my medical condition. Absurd. That's why we have a government.

POLITICAL SIDEBAR: Health insurance is, admittedly, quite complicated. But there's only one entity in this galaxy that could possibly manage to make things worse ... and they're working on it as we speak. One day soon, if you have a sore throat, you'll have to go to the Post Office, submit to a full thoracic exam and knee-jerk-reaction test, pick up some thirty-dollar stamps, wait in line for six months, and you'll come home with a carbon credit, somebody else's throat, and a Government Motors truck muffler bolted to your neck.
The stamps, by the way, will have a picture of a Muslim Elvis. And by the time you get home, they'll be useless, due to a postal rate hike.

I've now talked to Evil Inc. five times about the upcoming screening procedure, and I've gotten five different answers. As far as I can follow their evil-policy-speak, it looks like they'll cover part of the cost of either the doctor's boat payment, or three band-aids, whichever is determined to be least helpful to me, but only if the procedure is performed on a Wednesday, at a table (not a booth) in a Starbucks, in the presence of a left-handed Anglican elder who has less than three bipedal children currently attending a liberal arts college, unless the college offers classes, or has a lawn.

INC: "Thanks for calling Evil Inc. Your call is very important to us, although you're gonna find that awfully hard to believe as you spend the next 2 or 3 hours navigating our Customer Service phone queue, a brilliantly complex maze that was rejected by the IRS as being too complicated. For quality and training purposes, your call may be monitored. For legal and statistical purposes, your call may be answered. To continue in English, press or say Xochiquetzal."
[time]
Me: "Evil customer service representative, I have a question about my coverage."
INC: "Your WHAT?"
Me: "I have a standard medical procedure scheduled, designed to detect any problems early. Is that covered?"
INC: "HA! Good one! [Hey, Ed, pick up! Listen to THIS guy! Whoo!]"

LEGAL SIDEBAR: My insurance company isn't really named Evil Inc. I won't share their actual name, because they have, to use a highly technical medical term, "lawyers out the kazoo." But I can tell you that their name can be rearranged to spell "Harsh Sultanate." Also, "Anal Haste Hurts."
Coincidence? I think not.

INC: "Thanks for calling Evil Inc. How can I ignore you?"
Me: "I'd like to buy some health insurance."
INC: "No problem. We'll insure your health all day long. It's that "lack of health" condition that gets tricky."
Me: "What if I get sick?"
INC: "Please hold."
[time]
INC: "You're still holding?"
Me: "Yeah."
INC: "Weird. Nobody's ever done that before."
Me: "Forget the health insurance. I'd like to buy some life insurance."
INC: "I'm sorry, sir or madam. Life is a pre-existing condition."
Me: "Yeah, okay. Fair enough. But one day, I'll be dead."
INC: "Hold on, sir or madam, I'll transfer you to Eschatology."

RELIGIOUS SIDEBAR: For those of you who missed the annual "Theology Day" at public school, or had a tenured teacher, eschatology is the study of Eschatol, an ancient Egyptian deity who was in charge of Red Sea crowd control, and intestinal disorders brought on by eating too many really spicy lamb sandwiches.

INC: "This is Evil Inc. calling. Am I speaking to valued customer Mrs. Bart Parknet?"
Me: [sigh] "Sure. Go ahead."
INC: "This is Screwtape, from the Eschatology department. We're not gonna be able to cover your life, Mr. Partknot. You need to die before your policy renewal date. Will that be a problem? We can defer your premium, Mrs. Barkledge, if that's more convenient. After all, our focus is all about you, Burl. Can I call you Burl?"

FOXNEWS ALERT: Plasma bombs, lobbed from the sun's surface by former US President George Bush, have further delayed BP's efforts to stop the Gulf oil spill, and now threaten to disrupt global communications, particularly in rural colons. However, a White House spokesman claims that all is well, noting that President Obama has donned a cape and is flying towards the sun.

INC: "Thanks for calling Evil Inc. My name is Wormwood. How can we take your money?"
Undocumented Worker: "I'm a lawn guy that works for one of your customers. I think he's dead."
INC: "Whatever. Why are you calling us?"
UW: "I don't know the number for 9-1-1. Hey, he looks pretty dead."
INC: "Not our problem. Technically, death is not a medical condition. But just for the benefit of our Christmas party ... how can you tell he's dead?"
UW: "I put on an Ella Fitzgerald album. Not a twitch. No hay movimiento alguno."
INC: "Hey! Are you an illegal alien?"
UW: "Uh, I, um. Could be."
INC: "Well, you we can cover!"

MEDICAL SIDEBAR: For those of you who are wondering what we'll be discussing next week, a colonoscopy is a medical procedure designed to introduce middle-aged people to new vocabulary words, like "terminal ileum" and "sigmoid" and "wallet extraction."

INC: "This is Evil Inc. calling. Am I speaking to valued customer Barley Parsons?"
Me: [sigh] "Yeah."
INC: "Mr. Parlay, since you didn't die, we just wanted to remind you of our customer referral program!"
Me: "Holy Eschatol. You have got to be kidding me."
INC: "Kidding? No, Mrs. Parcels. As a requirement for employment at Evil Inc., I had my sense of humor surgically removed."
Me: "Huh. How much does that cost?"
INC: "Sorry, Mr. Pardol, your medical policy doesn't cover medical procedures. Would you like to purchase an upgrade?"
Me: "UPGRADE? WHY DON'T YOU UPGRADE THIS, YOU MISERABLE SACK O..."

[Communication interrupted by solar plasma bombs]