Alicia Scott
Moderator, CCO Instructor
Staff member
Administrator
Moderator
Blitzer
PBC Student (CPC®)
CCO Club Member
CCO Support Staff
MTA Student
ICD-10-CM Student
PPM Student (CPPM®)
FBC Student (CPC-H®)
I came across a blog today that made what I do for a living more real. I knew that many of you are knew to coding. Even the ones of us who have been coding for a while need to be reminded. What you code affects real people. Coding was and is for statistical purposes as well as being reimbursed. If you code something incorrectly it can change future care/treatments given. What you do is a BIG DEAL.
Let me share a portion of this blog post:
I was finally getting back to a normal routine. My miscarriage a few weeks earlier had taken more than just my baby. It had sapped my emotional reserves as well. I was exhausted, but began to force myself to continue the necessary day-to-day tasks.
I opened the growing pile of mail. A few bills and some unrequested catalogues were quickly set aside. But as I opened a letter from the hospital, I suddenly felt more than I had in days. I could feel my face turn red and my heart began to beat quickly.
The letter read something to the effect of:
“Dear Mrs. Thompson, Blah blah blah, your insurance company will not cover your elective abortion. Blah blah blah.”
Abortion?!?
It took a few times reading over the letter to understand that I needed to contact the hospital billing office. Surely there had been a mistake.
The conversation is still fuzzy in my mind, but basically, the hospital had “miscoded” my ER visit a few weeks before. While I had experienced what they considered a spontaneous abortion (my body had terminated the pregnancy on its own) the hospital had entered it as something similar to an elective abortion. (They said that I had made the decision to terminate the pregnancy.)
I had done everything in my power to keep my baby. Abortion was the word that described just the opposite.
Let me share a portion of this blog post:
I was finally getting back to a normal routine. My miscarriage a few weeks earlier had taken more than just my baby. It had sapped my emotional reserves as well. I was exhausted, but began to force myself to continue the necessary day-to-day tasks.
I opened the growing pile of mail. A few bills and some unrequested catalogues were quickly set aside. But as I opened a letter from the hospital, I suddenly felt more than I had in days. I could feel my face turn red and my heart began to beat quickly.
The letter read something to the effect of:
“Dear Mrs. Thompson, Blah blah blah, your insurance company will not cover your elective abortion. Blah blah blah.”
Abortion?!?
It took a few times reading over the letter to understand that I needed to contact the hospital billing office. Surely there had been a mistake.
The conversation is still fuzzy in my mind, but basically, the hospital had “miscoded” my ER visit a few weeks before. While I had experienced what they considered a spontaneous abortion (my body had terminated the pregnancy on its own) the hospital had entered it as something similar to an elective abortion. (They said that I had made the decision to terminate the pregnancy.)
I had done everything in my power to keep my baby. Abortion was the word that described just the opposite.