Illness falls short of trauma checklist
Crisis insurance won’t cover the mysterious illness that struck one woman out of the blue. Amanda Saxton reports
Three months ago Selina Linton fell out of bed, unable to move her legs. She barely remembers the following weeks spent in intensive care; doctors can’t say exactly when, or to what extent, she will recover.
The Auckland woman was struck by Guillain-Barre Syndrome — a mysterious, debilitating illness that attacks the nervous system. The 54-year-old dental assistant remains in a rehab centre, in nappies, unable to walk.
Her husband Nathan, 53, was shattered to learn the trauma insurance policy they had been putting money into for over two decades didn’t cover GuillainBarre.
It wouldn’t pay out for what the family deemed an ‘‘incredibly traumatic’’ experience.
The Lintons’ discovery unusual.
Trauma insurance, also known as crisis or critical illness insurance, is a broad term for a highly specific type of coverage.
It pays a lump sum to be used any way the insured chooses. Selina’s medical bills were covered by the state, so Nathan said the money would have gone into modifying their Titirangi home for the wheelchair his wife was likely to return with.
He said the family was also ‘‘getting kicked’’ by being down to one income.
Nathan said he hoped others might temper their expectations of trauma coverage after his family’s experience. is not Insurers can't cover every eventuality.
Now he wants Guillain-Barre put on insurance companies’ trauma tick list.
A spokesman for AMP, the Lintons’ insurance provider, said trauma policies didn’t cover Guillain–Barre Syndrome for a number of reasons, including the fact only 40 to 80 New Zealanders got it each year.
‘‘Insurers can’t cover every eventuality – if they did premiums would go up and cover would not be accessible or affordable.’’
Guillain-Barre sufferers who permanently lose their ability to ‘‘perform key tasks independently’’ could, however, get a pay out through trauma insurance, he said. Selina was not eligible as doctors believed she would eventually recover.
Karen Stevens of the Insurance and Financial Services Ombudsman (IFSO) said she had many clients who, like the Lintons, felt misled by their trauma policy.
‘‘Trauma in everyday language means something unexpected that happens to you and plays havoc with your life — but if it’s not specifically mentioned in your policy, it won’t be covered.’’
Stevens said disgruntled heart attack victims approached the IFSO ‘‘constantly’’. While trauma policies typically include heart attacks, they only pay out if certain situations.
Since being in hospital Selina has had pneumonia, a tracheotomy, a flooded lung, and excruciating nerve pain.
Her husband said her ‘‘good brain inside a very sick body’’ and the ever-fuzzy prognosis of Guillain-Barre had taken psychological tolls, too.
She could barely keep her eyelids up at 4 o’clock in the afternoon last Tuesday, in a wheelchair at her Pt Chevalier rehabilitation clinic. She held her husband and their 22-year-old daughter Lucy’s hands, and cried.
Nathan promised to get their wheelchair-unfriendly house ready for her ‘‘somehow’’, to hasten her homecoming.
‘‘We’ll suck it up,’’ he said. ‘‘But we thought we were responsible, taking out that insurance policy so that if something like this happened, we’d be able to look after each other comfortably.’’