Data Privacy

After the troubles I had earlier this year with Park Nicollet, J and I decided that we would switch H's clinic.

After some thought, we decided how convenient it would be to have all three kids at the same clinic for the first time!

Last week was H's one year check up, his first visit to the new clinic. Since H was born I have really enjoyed all the well child check ups. It is so fun to see how much he's grown, ask questions and hear input from the doctor. I look forward to them.

We arrived early.

I walked up with a smile to check us in. Started signing his paperwork and handed the "patient care coordinator" my insurance card. To which she replied, "We show that H's insurance is through 'Insurance A'."

"Umm, no. He's insured through 'Insurance B'."

I quickly glanced to the top of the paperwork and noticed the names of H's parents.

J was listed as H's father.
The kids mom, L was listed as H's mother.

"Oh we've got a little problem here." I explained with a smile, thinking this is totally fixable. I explain that somehow the file must have gotten mixed up with T and M's files and our situation.

The woman looked at my dumbfoundedly. Like I was a lunatic who had just happened upon the clinic and was trying to get away with something.

Now on a side note, I've gotten lots of weird looks, comments and questions when people find out I am a stepmom. I know that people have all sorts of opinions and judgments on situations like ours. I'm at a point in my life where that's really ok with me. It is amazing to me the people I run into these days.

What's even more funny is when L and I are together. Weird looks and glances are the norm. People tend to make very broad assumptions about our status and relationship, especially our gender preferences. I'll let you figure that one out.

Anyway back to the clinic, I've explained to this woman what I believe the issue is. H's file somehow got mixed up with T and M's. It will be really easy to fix.

"Well unfortunately since you are not listed as his mother or father you will not be able to change his records or sign his paperwork."

I started to laugh. "I'm his mother, see the insurance card, do you want my drivers license? The records we had transferred should show you I'm his mother."

"This is becoming a data privacy issue." She started. "I can't tell you anything that his old records say because I don't know that you're his mother."

Now there is a line forming behind me. I've got H on my hip, my diaper bag on my shoulder, wallet sprawled across the counter.

"Ma'm, I'm his mother, I don't know what you need from me to prove that, but I am his mother."

"You're going to need to talk to our business manager." She tells me and walks away.

I am now getting upset. I look behind me and can tell the people waiting are also getting inpatient and upset.

The business manager approaches and invites me back to the office.

"It's really rather silly," I start to explain, "Two of your patients are my stepchildren, and so it seems their parental information got put on H's file. Maybe when his records came in someone assumed that all the information would be the same?"

Business Manager (BM):"I can't see why that would happen. We have to abide by HIPAA you know and this is turning into a data privacy issue."

"Data privacy? He doesn't have any data. And I'm his mom."

BM: "We don't know that. We have no way of verifying that."

"How would you like me to prove that I am his mom?"

BM: "We'll need to call the listed parents and get permission."

Now I'm really getting upset. "Permission??? To take my own son to the doctor?"

BM: "I can tell you're getting upset, but we need to make sure."

"Can't you just look in his records and see his past history?"

BM: "No, because that's data privacy."

This conversation went on for awhile.

Finally, and I do mean finally, this woman gave in. Without calling to get "permission" and allowed me to change H's records to have the correct mother information and the correct insurance information.

I don't know what it was that convinced her. Me almost breaking down in tears? Me threatening to jump over the counter and change the darn records myself? Or H getting ready to melt down after the 45 minute explanation we were going through?

We made it through the appointment, all the while clarifying the situation, parents and information with the doctor. I'm sure he had lots of thoughts on our interesting set up.

But as he left the room, he was so kind to say, "L, it was nice to meet you."

If that doesn't make you laugh, what will?