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Honolulu Lite
SOMEWHERE in the bowels of an insurance office building, people are sitting around having a very serious discussion about one of my teeth. Getting HMO to pay
is like pulling teethIt's what I think they call in the dental world a "molar," one of those large grinding teeth about halfway back.
Several years ago, I went to a dentist who was something of a character. He knew I had covered a great deal of crime news in my early years as a reporter and delighted in talking about serial killers. His cubicle of torture wasn't the most modern of dentists' offices. The drill looked like something from an "Ozzie and Harriet" episode. But he wasn't stingy with the Novocaine, which scored points with me. Sometimes it would take two days for the side of my head to regain its feeling.
Anyway, that was the guy who capped my molar.
I later switched to another dentist and realized that up until then, I had been receiving 19th century dental care. (The National Geographic issue dated "July 1872" in the waiting room should have been a clue, but you know, those magazines always look so new.)
The first thing my new dentist did was fix everything my old dentist had screwed up, like that molar. The cap wasn't the right size, leaving room for the tooth to decay, which it did with a vengeance. So the new doc took off the cap, fixed the problem and put the old cap back on because, he told me, the HMO wouldn't pay for a new cap. The old one would have to stay in my mouth, even though it was defective, for five years before the number crunchers at the HMO would consent to it being replaced. At that point, the statute of limitations on the cap was due to run another one and a half years.
This was before dumping on HMOs became the national pastime. Back then, I thought the system was screwy, but what can you do? The dentist thinks you need a certain treatment but some guys in suits think otherwise. I suppose I could have shelled out the money from my own pocket, but I don't carry that kind of money around in my own pocket.
So the year 2000 rumbles in and I'm looking forward to September, because I can finally get that blasted cap replaced. Yes, it's sad that a dental appointment can be the high point of your year.
THEN about a month ago, I'm chomping on something that seemed relatively soft -- I mean, it wasn't corn nuts or gravel or anything -- and the cap cracks. I conduct a thorough examination of the damage with my tongue, which is like exploring the sea bottom in one of those submersibles. The report from the onsite investigation was not good. A crevasse the size of Waimea Canyon had been created. (The tongue tends to exaggerate everything going on in your mouth.)
So I call the dentist and am told they will submit a request to the insurance folks to see if they are in the mood to actually cover some dentistry. And, that's where it sits. I imagine that somewhere in Honolulu, probably in a modern, air-conditioned building, important people with good teeth are sitting around a table discussing my molar. They are weighing the pros and cons of replacing the defective cap. How would footing the bill for this affect the national debt? Should they conduct an in-depth survey of cracked caps? Should they wait until after the presidential election? Should they go to lunch and talk about Mr. Memminger's tooth later?
I say, yeah, go to lunch. Have a big sack of corn nuts.
Charles Memminger, winner of
National Society of Newspaper Columnists
awards in 1994 and 1992, writes "Honolulu Lite"
Monday, Wednesday and Friday.
Write to him at the Honolulu Star-Bulletin,
P.O. Box 3080, Honolulu, 96802
or send E-mail to cmemminger@starbulletin.com.
The Honolulu Lite online archive is at:
https://archives.starbulletin.com/lite