http://www.vox.com/2016/5/13/11606760/e ... ealth-care
Last January, Malcolm Bird took his 1-year-old daughter, Colette, to the local emergency room. His wife had accidentally cut the young girl's pinky finger while clipping her fingernails, and it had begun to bleed. They were nervous, first-time parents who wanted a doctor's opinion.
Colette turned out to be completely fine. A doctor ran her finger under the tap, stuck a Band-Aid on her pinky, and sent the family home.
A week later, something else showed up at home: a $629 hospital bill for the Band-Aid and its placement on Colette's finger.
His insurance had negotiated the price down to $440.30, the amount Bird — who was still in his deductible — was expected to pay.
"My first thought was, how could this possibly cost $629?" Bird told me when we spoke in April. "So I wrote the hospital a letter, expecting them to say, yeah, that's a bit excessive, and lower the price."
That didn't happen. The hospital sent him back a long letter explaining why it would stick with the price. The fees, the hospital's leadership responded, were justified — and it ultimately sent his unpaid bill to a debt collection agency.
Bird sent me all his correspondence with the hospital, which I ran by medical billing experts. His experience provides a unique window into how emergency health care billing works in the United States, and how easy it is for customers to end with a surprise bill for a relatively small service — like a Band-Aid on a child's finger.
So I guess this guy felt like he was getting ripped off and so why should he pay such a large bill for such a simple procedure (even after his insurance Co. got them to knock the price down a bit).
In this case though, I think it's a case of why medical costs are out of control in the US. People are going to the emergency room for things they could handle by themselves, and wasting the hospital's time. So I don't have a lot of sympathy.
Then the $629 charge arrived. To Bird, this seems nuts — in his view, the hospital wanted him to pay $629 for a Band-Aid. Even though his insurance had negotiated the price down to $440, he was still incensed by that initial number.
"I'm not saying you shouldn't make a profit … but 5 minutes, water, gauze, and a band aid, is that really $629?" he wrote in a July letter to the hospital.
About two weeks later, the hospital's chief executive responded — yes, it was.
This was John Murphy, who is the chief executive of the Western Connecticut Health Network, which owns the hospital where Colette was seen. He wrote back to share "a different perspective" on the emergency bill.
First, he points out that the Band-Aid didn't cost $629; it was actually just $7. The other $622 was the cost of seeing the doctor and using the emergency department itself.
Here, Murphy touches on an important concept in emergency department billing — the part that explains how bills for ER visits can be so high.
"The remainder of the charge," he writes, "was associated with the use of the facility and staff. We staff the emergency department 24-hours a day, every day of the year, and stand ready to treat whoever walks through our door, be it a gunshot victim or a patient with a stroke."
Murphy is explaining something called a "facility fee," the base price of setting foot inside an emergency room. It's something akin to the cover charge you'd pay for going out to a nightclub.
"It's the fixed price, and that's just what you're going to have to pay," says Renee Hsia, a professor at University of California San Francisco who studies emergency billing.
In the hospital view, an emergency room patient like Colette — even though she had a quite minor injury — shares the burden for that service that the Connecticut Hospital provided.
The Emergency Room is for emergencies, not a little cut on your pinky finger. If you think that's worth a trip to the emergency room, you should pay what it costs to provide that 24-hour service.