It’s one thing for an insurer to DENY a claim. But why do so many insurers expend such effort to DELAY payment, even for justified claims they know they have to pay?
If you didn’t know already, let me teach you about “float.”
Ten years ago, I was a pediatric nephrology fellow.
One of the the most tedious parts of my job was working on insurance denials.
We’d prescribe an expensive but clearly indicated/necessary medication - say, ESAs or growth hormone for kids with CKD - and it would be denied.
So I’d call the company.
I’d work my way through the computerized phone tree.
Then I’d talk to a representative.
The representative would nice me up; make me recite policy numbers they already had; maybe ask for a new a lab value or two.
Then the medication would be approved.
I also spent a lot of time on hold, which gave me time to think.
I wondered: why do they do this?
Was it *really* cost effective?
How much did it cost them to have their representatives staff the phone and nice me up?
Wasn’t that wasted money if they had to pay the claim?
After all, the meds we were fighting over were clearly indicated. No pediatric nephrologist is going to back down after a denial of, say, Epogen and just let their patients become transfusion-dependent or die.
If they know they have to pay eventually, why not pay immediately?
Part of the answer is obvious.
Some delayed approvals won’t ultimately have to be paid. Maybe the insured will lose or change their insurance. Or maybe they’ll die.
But part of the answer is less obvious - and more insidious.
When you pay your insurance premium, that money doesn’t just sit around idly, waiting to be forked out the minute you make a claim.
It’s invested in interest-bearing accounts.
And the longer it sits in those accounts, the more interest it generates.
This is the “float.”
When you pay your insurance premium, you’re essentially giving your insurer a zero-interest loan.
And a corporation with hundreds of millions of dollars of “floated” cash can create serious revenue when they systematically hang onto those dollars for even a little bit longer.
For instance, Warren Buffet’s Berkshire Hathaway has long used this technique to great success:
Look, even before the Step 2 CS cancellation, my DMs and email were flooded with messages from osteopathic medical students who are fed up with the NBOME.
There is *real* anger toward this organization. Honestly, more than I even heard about from MD students and the NBME.
The question is, will that sentiment translate into action?
Amorphous anger on social media is easy to ignore. But if that anger gets channeled into organized efforts to facilitate change, then improvements are possible.
The reason a physician in graduate medical education training is called a “resident” is because back in the day, they *literally* lived in the hospital.
(a short thread)
One text recommended two medical and two surgical residents per 100 beds, a number which would “prove sufficient for all purposes.”
(If you’re wondering why the residents lived on the upper floors, it’s because “in case of fire, they, being in good health, could easily escape.”)
But that’s not all.
A century ago, residency had no fixed time endpoint - training could last any amount of time.
Most programs also had a ‘pyramid’ structure, in which many interns competed for fewer resident positions at each level and ultimately just one chief resident spot.
The AAMC has recommended that residency programs offer only virtual interviews for the upcoming season.
Who wins, and who loses? Let’s find out!
(thread)
WINNER: Homegrown applicants.
Every year, many students choose to stay at the same institution for residency. Many PDs will be eager to snap up these “known quantities” from an otherwise more uncertain applicant pool.
LOSER: DOs and IMGs, who may not have a “home” program.
WINNER: Student travel budgets.
Previously, many applicants spent upwards of five figures traveling to in-person interviews. You gotta try *really* hard to spend that kind of money sitting in your living room doing Zoom and WebEx interviews.
Well, another residency application season is in the books.
And in 2019, the average residency applicant (all comers) submitted 92 residency applications.
Yes.
NINETY-TWO.
And each year, this number creeps higher and higher.
We need to talk about this.
(thread)
First:
Can we please stop defending application inflation by saying that applicants *HAVE* to apply to so many programs because the number of residency programs isn’t growing at the same rate as applicants?
It’s not true.
Statistically-speaking, there’s never been a better time IN THE PAST 50 YEARS for a graduating U.S. medical student to get a PGY-1 position.
But don’t take my word for it - let’s get it straight from @TheNRMP.