Those of us that live in the US live in a medical economic system of “haves” and “have-nots.” I’ve lived with diabetes for almost 32 years and for that entire time I was lucky enough to qualify for medical insurance coverage. I’m well aware of the people who do not have access to the things I take for granted: all the modern insulin I need, a generous supply of test strips, and for the last six years, a continuous glucose monitor or CGM system. Without medical insurance helping me to pay for these things, I could only afford to pay out-of-pocket for a small percentage of these things.
When I retired and went on Medicare, I realized that Medicare does not cover any CGM. I have come to rely heavily on my CGM system. I wear it 24/7/365 and consider it the next most important contributor to the quality of my life after insulin. This CGM has permitted me to actually safely spend about 80% of my time in range, 65-140 mg/dl. It wakes me up when I’m low and prevents the inevitable BG bounce and multi-hour hyperglycemia that follows untreated lows while sleeping.
The gut punch
Luckily for me, my Medicare supplement plan that I earned as a result of a 25-year career with a large company, does cover CGMs on a 80/20 percentage split. This morning, however, I received a phone call from my CGM supplier telling me that my insurance no longer covers my CGM supplies. This gut punch sent me reeling. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I felt panicked and struggled to maintain my wits.
Since the customer service representative could not answer some of my pointed questions about this, I asked to be put through to the department of the company that deals with insurance claims. Company policy prevented her from doing this. I knew this issue was above her pay grade and I knew she was just a conduit to deliver this message to me. I was still infuriated that I could not directly talk with the person in the company that could answer my detailed questions. I gave up pursuing this effort and told the rep that I’d call my insurance company and then get back in touch with them.
Frightening perspective
I live alone. I know the incredibly helpful role that my CGM use plays not only in my health but also my personal safety. Just this morning at 2:00 my CGM woke me up with a 55 mg/dl alarm. I must have slept through the 70 mg/dl alarm. That alarm permitted me to metabolically recover in a timely and safe fashion. I also know that I probably could not afford to pay for CGM supplies out of pocket. One of the key fundamental assumptions of my retirement financial plan now crumbled in front of me. My mind raced looking for a way out. An unhealthy cascade of hormones spooled me up into fight or flight mode with no one to fight and no where to flee. I was angry, irritated, and most of all vulnerable.
A reprieve
I called my insurance company to verify this reality. With tremendous relief I found out that my policy had not changed at all and they do still cover all my CGM supplies. Deep breath – I was so relieved!
I quickly phoned my CGM supplier and straightened out what was an internal company communication fiasco. I’m sure the customer service rep felt stressed out but she just communicated what she was told. I confirmed that I had another 12 sensors in the pipeline with the usual 80/20 split.
What I learned from this drama was what it feels like, at least for a half hour, to be without access to the tools needed to deal well with my diabetes. I have a new respect for what some of my diabetic brothers and sisters deal with for much, much longer than 30 minutes. The momentary reality of losing my CGM provided me just a glimpse, albeit a frightening one, that is hidden from all the medical access “haves” in this country. The medical access system we use in the US is deplorable. I never want to experience again what I felt this morning. No one should ever have to face that foreboding sense of helplessness and vulnerability.