I wasn't feeling all that opinionated today, so I was thinking that I might post about my thrifting luck this morning. But then the mail came. And I learned that after six months of telling me otherwise, our insurance will not cover "services that are related to development delay."
I could give you a play-by-play of the phone conversations I've had over the past months. I could complain that in these conversations I repeatedly mentioned "Down syndrome," and no one thought to double check that "delays" were covered. I could admit that, in true insurance-speak, nothing was ever promised. But it's a dull story, one that's played out many times before, and it ends with our insurance not covering Max's private speech therapy.
The speech therapy that we've been attending monthly, all year, under the assumption that it was covered.
We're okay on the money. It's not how we were planning to spend it, but we've got it. More than that, it just hit hard that there are so many questions and so many clauses and so many hoops, and I don't know anything about what we've gotten ourselves into. I hate that.
I hate that the wording of the notice implies that the insurance company thinks that my son isn't worth fighting for. That his delays are to be expected and not worth fixing.
It was an awesome green jacket, with a designer label, by the way. I went to the thrift shop looking for a fall jacket, and I found one that I kind of love, and I'm hoping the weather is cool enough that I can wear it tomorrow. So, there's that.