The Rejection Letter

So I dedicated yesterday to making phone calls and getting my hospital debts in some kind of an order. I called my contact, Rudy, at the first hospital that treated me...the one back in Pennsylvania. According to them, I owe them $180,000. Isn't that just a riot?! It makes me laugh when I see that! So anyway, Rudy turns out to be a really cool guy and he totally wants to help me. So he's pointing me in the right direction and telling me point by point what I need to do to make this all better. So I'm appealing most of the claims with my insurance company who decided, against my own word, that I had a pre-existing condition and doesn't want to cover most of my medical expenses. While I'm waiting to hear what the decision will be on my appeal, I have to apply for California Medicaid, known as "Medi-Cal" out here. Rudy told me that most likely I will be denied by them but that I have to go and apply anyway and get a rejection letter from them. Then the hospital will see that I'm unable to get help anywhere else and THEN they will be able to financially assist me...what that exactly means I don't know...but I'm working on it!

So, today I drove down to the Public Social Services office. When I pulled up to the building I was actually impressed. It was newer construction and looked pretty nice from the outside! Unfortunately, they already let it go to complete shit on the inside. I walked into the lobby and was directed towards the metal detector, which was a joke, and then stood in a long line just to be told to go to a different room for my application. Stood in another line, got my application and waited to be called. Then I was brought back into another room full of cubicles where I had to sit and wait to be called....again! This woman came up to me and, God bless her little heart, she looked like one of those little troll dolls! No joke! Now her hair wasn't out of control like the troll dolls but her face was a mess. I looked around inside of her cubicle at her pictures. Looks like she was able to score a husband, so thats good! But still, I just felt so bad for her in her oversized tshirt with "Pooh Bear and Friends" on it! That's another thing I don't understand when people wear that crap! Are they for real? She REALLY seemed to like kittens too because there were a lot of pictures and posters of them everywhere! Anyway, the only point of me sitting there was for her to "open" my case. Then I had to go upstairs, sign in, and wait to be interviewed. I sat in a large waiting room with absolutely no color what so ever...dirty white walls, dirty white floors, and very ugly uncomfortable seating. It was SO bland and SO depressing! I mean, who designs these places?! I don't understand! I had a man sitting next to me who had atrocious poop breath! It smelled like coffee and shit mixed together, like dirty bong water, like a wet ash tray, like...well, I think poop pretty much sums it up. He was NOT a nose breather either! P-flippin-U! I looked around and there was no where else to sit...I was stuck sitting next to the heavy mouth breathing poop breath guy! While I was doing my scan of the room I noticed the other people that were waiting. I don't mean to come off as sounding pretentious but, holy shit! I think there has got to be some correlation with the number of teeth missing and the number of brain cells lost with people. There were some MAJOR crazies there! One man was having a full on conversation with himself...he even busted out laughing twice at God only knows what. I found it completely odd that NO ONE in the room even looked up or took notice to it! I mean, how can it be that I was the only one finding it odd? Everyone else just acted like it was normal daily activity. Then the lady sitting down the row from him either had ants in her pants, or she was doing the jitterbug dance in her seat. She was definitely rocking out to something good...I wish I could have heard the music she was listening to in her head. But then some raspy ass voice from around the corner shouted my name and THAT was music to MY ears! Even though they pronounced my last name without the apostrophe in it...as if it were one word..."OBRIEN" (pronounced "ob-rien"). I could care less at that point...I just wanted to get out of there! So I was walked back to another cubicle where I was going to be interviewed. The first thing I said to the woman was "hi, how are you?". Her reply "uhhhh...REALLY tired". So I said "well the day is almost over so thats good!" and she says, with an big 'ol attitude, "if you say so". Ugh, this woman was a TOTAL hot mess! I thought to myself, well this should be a good time! We sat down and she asks me if I know all about medi-cal. I told her not really. She literally rolls her eyes and lets out a big annoying sigh and says "well, I'm REALLY tired so, in a nutshell..." I stopped her right there...I was in shock but I decided it would be best for me to just explain my whole situation and how I already knew that since my medical bills that I'm trying to get help with are from 2008, that I will most likely be denied. Her response "well you got that right". Great! So I told her that all I needed was a rejection letter from her so I could give it to the hospital to show that I don't qualify for medi-cal benefits. You would have thought that I had asked her join me in running the LA marathon! The attitude with this one was unbelievable. It was Friday afternoon around 4pm and I get it...you're over it, it's the end of the week...and she's most likely been dealing all week long with those crazies that I was sitting with in the waiting room. But I was probably her easiest case...not to mention the cutest one too! All I wanted was a letter. Well she finally got her size 16 ass out of her indented chair and wobbled on over to the printer to get the rejection letter that she printed. Meanwhile, making the rejection letter looked rather simple to me...she pulled up a pre-written word document, typed my name on it, and hit print. She took her sweet ass time doing it too. I would too though if my red and green swirl sparkly painted fingernails were 3 inches long like hers too! So I got my rejection letter! Yay! This is probably the first time that I'm excited to have received one of those. So now I just have to send this to Rudy and see what the next step will be! One more thing before I close here...a special thanks to my social services worker, L'Saundra, for working with me and getting me my letter! Thanks gurrrrrrrrrrrrrl!