Many claimants have considered taking Antero to small-claims court or filing some kind of class-action lawsuit--even though they're not sure who they can sue. But for the most part, they've decided that they can't afford to put the effort into recovering money that doesn't exist.
"I was what they would call a high-volume provider, meaning that I saw a lot of their people," says Dr. David Kieffer, who has a marriage- and family-therapy practice in Lakewood. "My experience with MHS was that they slowly went out of business. So they're gone. They just disappeared. There's no remedy for that. I've put little to no action into this, because I don't think that there's any remedy. I have a busy practice, and I don't have the time to go after something that may never materialize. I think that's one of the ways insurance companies take advantage of doctors--we're so busy right now trying to keep up with the demands of managed care in general and trying to increase our volume, when we're not dealt an even hand by an insurance provider, I hardly have the energy to pursue the problem, because I have obligations to my patients and other managed-care people. It takes a lot of the fun out of practicing as a health-care provider."
When MHS went out of business, it owed not only therapists, but also its own parent corporations, facilities partially funded through tax dollars. The Jefferson Center for Mental Health had an outstanding claim of $1,544, and the Aurora Community Mental Health Center was still owed $4,467.65.
Hall winces on hearing the amount but then shrugs it off. "I knew we were owed money, but I didn't know how much," she says. "There's all kinds of bills that get paid and don't get paid. That's small compared to the amount that was lost by the shareholders."
Shareholders knew they were taking a risk, however, while therapists thought there were regulations that would protect them. But the concept of managed care seemed to extend only to managing the range of services provided patients--not managing the companies that provide them.
"It's not fair," Kieffer says. "I'm just another angry doctor. It's tough being a doctor. It used to be fun. I've been practicing for over twenty years. There was a real sense of community support and respect that we once received. There was actually a sense of privilege with being a doctoral-level health-care provider, and now there's not."
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