A week ago, I wrote a Slice about two sets of hospital doctors' bills for my husband — one set I’d paid last month, and the second set, 10 pages long, including both the old charges and new ones. A friendly woman in the hospital’s billing office said she would send me an amended statement for only the new charges.
On Monday, I received two statements, one nine pages long, the other 12 pages. Again, each statement contained charges I know I’ve paid. Today, I went through all four statements, marking the charges I’ve paid, adding up the charges I haven’t. The total was about $30 less than either of the amounts on the statements I got a couple of days ago.
So once again, I called the hospital’s billing office and talked to another friendly woman. She had an explanation that made no sense to me for why the check I’d sent hadn’t been applied to two of the doctors’ charges. I kept trying to understand, she kept repeating her “explanation.” In the end, I decided to stop arguing and just say I would send a check for the amount I think I owe, and she laughed and conceded that there was some problem with the way payments were applied to charges.These are the kind of life details that are so boring and so annoying. Yet they also became a test of attitude. Shall I become angry and obsessed over some weird computer glitch, or just pay what I think I owe and let the problem roll off my back? I am following path #2, and I feel much better.