But I'm Older, and I Have More Insurance...

That may get Kathy Bates satisfaction over a stolen parking space down at the Winn Dixie, but it won't get Val Thevictorian a lupus anticoagulant test down at the local hospital.

Yes, a few days ago I told you about my runaround trying to get to my pulmonologist appointment. And then yesterday I told you about my deceptively simple visit to the DMV, even getting bumped ahead of an elderly guy holding a number. But Even Steven has a way of putting one in one's place. I'm not trying to work backwards here, like the worst-ever episode of Seinfeld, the one at the wedding in India.

Upon leaving the pulmonologist, his people handed me a lab order for a blood test. He had asked if I wanted to get it that day, but with the trouble I had finding his new office, I was not about to drive over to the hospital and traipse around. He agreed that I could get the test at a lab closer to home, and have the results faxed to him.

Yesterday, I dropped The Pony off at his summer tutoring assignment, and headed for the lab at the clinic where my own doctor sends me. He can't do the test in HIS lab anymore, because of my insurance, which, as you recall, is the worst insurance ever in the history of insurance, a company I refer to as Banishment Well-Being Concern. (Those of you into puzzle-solving can probably figure out the real company by perusing synonyms for those key words.)

The parking lot was full that day, my friends. Full, like a guy with a horse face, big teeth, and flared nostrils refusing to take a bite of mutton. It was as if everybody in three counties was having a lupus anticoagulant test right then. There was only one space available in all of the four rows, and I got it. I hiked an impressive distance to the building and took the elevator to the third floor. I handed my lab order to the lady behind the window, and looked at the clipboard with 50 names scratched out, and the 10 people waiting, and said, "Do I still need to sign in?"

"Who is this doctor?"

"Doctor XYZ, from Big City Hospital."

"Oh, we can't do this test here. Only if it's from one of our own doctors. The hospital lab downstairs can do it, though."

"Okay. I have one more question. On July 1, when my insurance changes from Banishment Well-Being Concern to Star-Spangled Banner, will my regular doctor be able to do my labs again, or will I still come down here?"

"Your regular doctor will have to tell you that. But if you have Banishment Well-Being Concern, the hospital lab can't do your test today. Oh, they can DO your test, but they won't send the blood out to Odyssey, the lab Banishment requires. You'll have to pay."

"Yes. That happened one time. It was $179 for a blood test. So even though I have Banishment as my primary insurance, and Star-Spangled Banner as my secondary insurance through my husband's work...I STILL can't have the test here?"

"You need to go to the Odyssey draw station. Do you know where that is?"

"No. It used to be behind Burger King."

"Now it's beside Arby's. But they're closed on Fridays."

"Okay. It looks like I'm not getting that test today."

"Well, you might go check to see if they're open. They gave us this handout in February, but I know they've changed their hours since then." She handed me a paper off a clipboard hanging on the wall.

"Thank you. I'll go check it out."

So off I went, past the 10 people waiting, down the elevator, back through the parking lot, past the three cars parked in the striped walkways because their drivers are entitled buttmunchers who need a swift lesson in fair play from Kathy Bates in a big brown sedan, and climbed back into T-Hoe, and drove across town to the Arby's parking lot, and got out and walked past the nail shop to see if the Odyssey draw station was open...and saw that it was not, and the hours painted on the front door were exactly the same as the hours on the handout I had been handed.

Let the record show that having two insurances is not all it's cracked up to be if the primary is Banishment Well-Being Concern. And that Even Steven has a way of balancing karma.

Those walkway parkers better be looking over their shoulders.

*****
Alternate Title:
Who Do You Have To Let Suck Your Blood Around Here To...Um...Get Somebody To Suck Your Blood Around Here?