#what is rcm

[kaneconway]

9 Tips to Handle Prior Authorization in RCM

In the existing healthcare system, prior authorization becomes an inevitable procedure that may hinder care provision or affect the practice’s profitability. This is seeking the insurance company’s permission to provide the patient with medication, treatment, or service. It is important to manage the prior authorization process effectively to ensure seamless workflow within the Revenue Cycle Management. This post will present some practical suggestions for dealing with prior authorization and discuss how your practice can benefit from medical billing services.

[mongeese]

I understand why people do it but using "Kim and Harry would take a bullet for each other" as an expression of their personal closeness is meaningless when canonically, Kim would have thrown himself in front of a bullet to save Harry before they even knew each other. It doesn't matter if Kim likes Harry or not -- they're both officers of the RCM, currently acting as partners, and therefore Kim sees it as his job to protect Harry's life without regard to personal safety. I'd bet Kim expects the same of Harry, at least subconsciously. It isn't about love. It's about duty

[p0rchc0ll4ps3]

Thinking about fucked up angst bw Harry and Jean. Headcanons for my au, warning for suicidal thoughts and the like

Anyways they were roommates and their old roommates kicked them out bc they were just way too much so they moved into a super tiny horrible apartment bc it was all they could afford bc Harry refuses to take bribes and he's busy doing his job instead of being a good corrupt cop like the rest of them. So he and Jean are sharing this super small one room apartment with only a gas stove in the corner as a kitchen and inevitably Jean reaches his limit with Harry and can't stand him anymore so he moves out and gets his own apartment and Harry can't handle it

Harry gets all aggressive and upset and fucked up over it and all the 'of course you'd leave, everyone always leaves me'

He tries killing himself one time and it doesn't work and he just starts to get worse and deeper in the hell and completely relapses

And then he just blows Jean off entirely like I don't need you I don't need anyone I'm god fuck you fuck you fuck you

And Jean has massive guilt and super upset about it bc he feels it's his fault for ditching Harry and causing him to spiral this hard but he's done with his bullshit he's had enough he's not going to deal with him anymore

And then Harry goes to Martinaise without Jean and he gets so fucking upset like he tries to get rid of the ledger and tries to quit and tries to kill himself with the car trying to drive himself into the sea

Harry's supposed to have died multiple times. With one time when he got shot, with the hanging, with the car crash, with the amnesia, with the time he gets shot with Kim, with the alcohol poisoning being so severe, but he just doesn't die

And Jean has all these guilt complexes bc yeah he did ditch Harry in the end and he did choose the selfish path of 'I have to survive so I have to leave him behind bc he's dragging me down' and yeah technically it is his fault Harry hung himself and Harry blew him off the case and all that but also Jean is like well actually no

I worked really hard to get you better. And you kept relapsing. And you never got better.

Even though I managed, and I thought you could manage coz you're my brother basically and you're like me, apparently you don't want to live and you're not strong enough and ok fine. If you won't listen then fine. See if I care. Go and fucking rot in hell

I'm done

And now Harry's forgotten him completely and his issues seem to have evaporated and what's more this new partner of his (who Jean really sees as a better cop) seems to be doing a way better job than Jean ever could at helping Harry

So it's gonna take a LOT to mend this whole thing even if Harry does remember. Bc basically Jean and Harry go from being REALLY close and fraternal and like I'll take care of you you'll take of me etc. having both survived horrendous traumatic shit together. To just this huge rift in their relationship bc Harry just cannot for the life of him get better. He cannot unstick himself out of his rut. He just wants to keep tearing himself apart

And Jean feels hugely guilty for leaving him behind but also he just can't stand him anymore AND ALSO it's a form of self harm that he destroy this relationship further, that he completely blow Harry off. Because he knows in his heart of hearts that the closeness and brotherhood they shared before was too good to be true. That he (Jean) will NEVER have anyone who understands him on that level again AND THAT even more so he does not and never will deserve closeness like that

So yeah. Jean is basically 'go fuck yourself. Go kill yourself. See if I care. I don't fucking care. I hate you.' <- said while caring way too fucking much

[burlowbeanie]

I knew about Cuno going into Disco Elysium, so I was expecting the small, angry, traumatized, foul-mouthed child. What I was not expecting was the smaller, angrier, more traumatized, fouler-mouthed child standing directly behind him. I love her so goddamn much.

[even-disco-baby]

SOLA — Her Innocence, Sola— the anti-innocence— turns to face you. In the distance, you hear the tattoo of propellers, turning, sucking all the air. A strong wind whips her long, dark hair around her face. Her simple black gown billows behind her. The same gown she wore the day she resigned.

She has your eyes.

“Hi, Kim,” she says simply. “You don’t look well.”

PAIN THRESHOLD — Her voice is so familiar, and yet the moment she stops speaking, you cannot recall its sound, no matter how hard you try. And you have tried. Innumerable times.

AUTHORITY — What makes her think she would even *know* the difference between you looking well or unwell? She’s being presumptuous. She doesn’t even know you.

INLAND EMPIRE — She never will.

“I’m doing great, actually. Never been better.”

“Hey, I’m trying my best.”

“I’m *not* well. I’m so fucking unwell. I can’t take it anymore. Please, help me…”

“I’ll live.”

SOLA — “Hm…” She smiles apologetically. “Well, that’s all we can really ask for anymore, isn’t it?”

EMPATHY — She wishes more than anything that this was not the case. That you could ask for the world and have it.

RHETORIC — She tried to give it to you, and this is how you repay her? You’re gonna be in *deep* shit trying to explain that insignia you stitched onto her jacket.

“Um, about the jacket. It’s not what it… well, no, it *is* what it looks like. But I don’t— it’s— there’s nuance.”

“Is that really all you have to say to me?”

“I don’t know what to say to you.”

“Where are you going?”

SOLA — Her Innocence looks away from you, toward the wind. “Away,” she says, her voice distant and strange. “Yes… I’m stepping down, you see. The world doesn’t need me. It never needed me, really. It’s best for humanity to think for itself. No… it already *does* think for itself.”

She turns back to you with a small smile. The thought brings her peace.

PAIN THRESHOLD — But what does it bring *you?* She’s leaving you forever. Abandoning you for lofty ideals.

AUTHORITY — Let her go. Let her see how little you care. Don’t give her any satisfaction.

HALF LIGHT — Stop her. You won’t be able to live without her.

VOLITION — You have already lived almost all your life without her. You don’t need her. You have *never* needed her.

“What if the world *does* need you? Who are you to make that decision for the entire world?”

“Fine. Go. It’s none of my business.”

“So you’re just going to leave me behind again.”

“Please, don’t go. *I* need you.”

SOLA — “What else is an Innocence appointed to do?” Her smile turns wry. “You see? This is why I’m stepping down.”

Distant propellers turn and turn in endless circles. She glances toward them.

YOU — “Fine. Go. It’s none of my business.”

SOLA — “I suppose not.” Her voice and her face betray nothing. No sign of remorse.

YOU — “So you’re just going to leave me behind again.”

SOLA — “That was never my intention,” she says softly. “Surely you know that.”

INLAND EMPIRE — You will never truly know. No one will.

SOLA — She stares out at the horizon through the tendrils of hair that almost seem to threaten to swallow her. Her expression is strange and ambiguous, shifting every time you try and look directly at it.

YOU — “Please, don’t go. *I* need you.”

SOLA — She looks at you, and her eyes are full of what might be genuine sadness. But they could also be full of anything else.

“Oh, Kim… You must make do with what you have. I don’t know what else you want me to say…”

RHETORIC — What?! There are a million other things she could say! Forty-one years worth of possibilities! She could say *anything!* Anything at all… Even if she’d only left you a single word, it would be better than this…

VOLITION — It’s pointless to wish. Please, no more of this. It’s too sad.

“You could say that you’re sorry.”

“Say that I turned out all right.”

“Say that you’re proud of me. That you love me.”

SOLA — “Then I’m sorry.” She closes her eyes. “It was terrible of us to leave you alone.”

Her voice is utterly calm and emotionless.

PAIN THRESHOLD — No… Wrong, all wrong…

YOU — “Say that I turned out all right.”

SOLA — “You’re a good man despite it all. That is all I ever hoped for you.”

Again, there is no warmth to her words. No conviction.

VOLITION — Lieutenant… Please, don’t do this to yourself.

YOU — “Say that you’re proud of me. That you love me.”

SOLA — “I’m so proud of you and everything you’ve accomplished. You wear that jacket well.”

Her eyes have nothing behind them. A pair of two millimeter holes in the world.

“I love you.”

PAIN THRESHOLD — Your lungs seem to constrict at her words. Your chest hurts more than it’s ever hurt. This wind is hard to breathe in.

YOU — “No! Don’t you fucking get it?! You don’t love me!”

SOLA — “Then I don’t love you.”

YOU — “You should be *ashamed* of me!”

SOLA — “Then I am ashamed.”

YOU — “I betrayed you! I betrayed everything you stood for! I’m a fucking cop!”

SOLA — “Then I am betrayed.”

She proclaims it as dispassionately as she proclaimed her love.

YOU — “For god’s sake, *say something real!*”

SOLA — She just looks at you. The propellers keep on turning.

DRAMA — She can’t speak for herself, sire…

LOGIC — Of course she can’t. Of course…

PAIN THRESHOLD — Your lungs feel like they could collapse. Empty, crumpled, dark. Hot tears prick your eyes for the first time in what feels like a long time.

SOLA — “Do you understand now?” she asks gently.

LOGIC — She cannot speak for herself because you do not know what she would say.

There are many memories that you have been slowly recovering, little by little. Your mother will never be one of them. Her, the revolution, the aerostatic brigade— they all died before you could even comprehend loss.

AUTHORITY — You did not become a detective so that you could find your lost mother. You became a police officer because you did not want to end up like her.

VOLITION — She can neither forgive you, nor condemn you. She is dead, Lieutenant. She can only be what you make her.

RHETORIC — You’re asking your own echo for answers…

SOLA — “Humanity must think for itself,” she says again, turning again toward the wind. “What point is there in asking me where to go from here? I’m a failure. We all failed…”

RHETORIC — The revolutionaries failed their children, and the children are failing their parents, and all of them are dying, dying, dead… What’s the point in any of this anymore? I cannot argue in favor of any of it.

VOLITION — There is a point. There is a way forward. But you won’t find it here, Lieutenant.

“I hate you. You made me everything I am and then you just *left.*”

“I miss you… How is it even possible to miss someone you never met? It’s like someone ripped a part of me out and all I can do is bleed.”

“I don’t know what I am. I need you to tell me what I am.”

SOLA — One last time, she turns back to you. She slowly bridges the gap between you and reaches out a hand to cup your cheek. Her fingers feel like your own.

“You are whatever kind of animal you choose to be,” she says, so quietly that you don’t know how you can hear it over the distant roar of engines. “I cannot make that choice for you.”

EMPATHY — She died hoping that you would grow up with the freedom to choose to be whatever you wanted. Instead, the world that raised you hardly let you dare to want anything.

VOLITION — But you can still make a choice. Humanity can still think for itself.

[bitchmael]

this might be me reading it wrong but while they obviously are Cops and pretty explicitly bastards because of it i'm not sure how 1:1 an analogy the rcm are supposed to be for real-world cops. like generally police forces are, in order to fulfil their role as the means of maintaining the state's monopoly on violence at home, empowered (both legally & logistically) to do whatever they need/want to do that and imo it's very telling that the game goes out of its way to say "the rcm are not allowed anywhere near breach-loading weapons". like the moralintern is apparently willing to allow the mercenaries to run around a civilian area carrying automatics but won't let (as i understood it) anyone in the rcm have them for any reason. couple this w the fact that the rcm was apparently started by the people of revachol themselves & allowed (there's that word again) to continue by the moralintern rather than being the MI's brainchild i think it speaks to some interesting tensions in the rcm's postion which are obscured by just calling them cops. which is not to say that they are not also cops.

[draconicace]

i'm never going to write this as a fic so i'm releasing it to the wild. behold: the au where harry has a forgotten roommate named edward who is very super normal and boring. kim pov

imagine: you are a police detective getting back from a week-long murder case. a lot's happened: you got concussed, a war might break out soon, you're transferring precincts, and you've got a new partner. said partner is quaking in the boots he picked up during said murder investigation. he is terrified of the piece of his past you two are about to face. you are outside his apartment, decked out with enough cleaning supplies to fix up a particularly gruesome crime scene. if the apartment is anything like the hostel room your partner trashed, you are going to need every single one of them. your new partner's old partner refused to just give him the spare key, so you're picking the lock. you hear a click. you stand, pat your partner on the back once, and open the door.

it is completely normal inside. there are half-filled papers strewn about, haphazardly stacked dirty dishes in the sink, and a mysterious plastic container you cannot see the inside of in the fridge. but, otherwise, it's livable. you and your partner stand in the middle of it all, puzzling through this newly-forming investigation.

and then, suddenly—the front door opens. a man enters. he is middle-aged, like you, with a short-cropped hairstyle and a soft-looking blue cardigan.

for a moment, you think you have broken into a random person's apartment.

the man looks between you two and says, "oh, harry! you're back. how was martinaise?"

this man is harry's forgotten roommate, edward. he is nicknamed eddie, or, if you like: numbers-man. there is no story behind this nickname. he and harry have lived together for over a year, and he is skin-crawlingly bland. you hate him for no reason. it becomes a solo stereo-investigation: figure out something capital W weird about this guy. because there's no way harry could live with someone so... normal.

you find out he works as an archivist at the local museum of suzerainty history. he and harry bond over art critique. he likes sudoku. he says harry is a quirky, delightful roommate.

at a certain point, you're pretty sure the pale got you and you're seeing some strange alternate present that never happened. you only experience this feeling around edward.

eventually, you get swept up into actual cases and a plan for le retour. harry's so-normal-it's-weird roommate is but a blip on your radar.

harry's lease ends. you and he move in together, closer to the precinct. harry tells you edward has decided to live with family. he also tells you that, during a previous attempt to get sober, he remembered he'd gone looking for a stable roommate. someone who had their life together. for a good influence. so you can stop trying to find dirt on him, kim, come on, he's nice.

so edward's whole mystery is solved, you're living with your partner (both cop-partner and partner-partner), le retour is really gearing up, there's people in the streets. you don't really have time to think about harry's former roommate when revachol's freedom is on the line.

and then. and fucking then. just as the revolution is nearing its end—a clear victory on the horizon—you spot him: edward. he is fleeing towards an aerostatic, confidential papers stuffed under his arm. having spent years as harry's partner, you've gotten very, very fast at running. you chase him, you tackle him, you wrest the papers spelling a potential future doom away from him.

an hour later, you have solved your long-term stereo-investigation: edward was a moralintern spy the entire time. he'd become harry's roommate to gain rcm secrets. once harry had come back from martinaise, however, he'd stopped being an easy mark to get information from. no more important papers left on the floor to be stolen and blamed on drunken forgetfulness.

you are lauded as a hero of revachol for preventing edward's escape. after celebrations and a promise of much work to still be done, you and your partner go back to your shared apartment. there are half-filled papers strewn about, haphazardly stacked dirty dishes in the sink, and a mysterious plastic container you cannot see the inside of in the fridge. you are home.

[flhoarder]

Hardie boys: y’all seen those two cops. how long have they been there at the same spot. what are they doing. why are they just there literally staring at the wall. it’s been 3 days

[fruitpunchjollyrancher]

>opens disco elysium tag and sees jeancourse >ask if the point is real or headcanon >they don't understand >pull out fayde >they laugh and say "it's a good point sir" >read the post >it's headcanon

[weepylucifer]

Harry: H-

Steban: No. Get out. I can't believe you'd stoop so low as to arrest Comrade Dros for murder. Never be part of my reading group ever again

[1tbls]

extremely important question: can you sell the ham sandwich or topping pie? for how much? or are there any other instances of buying or selling (non-alcohol) food items that might be an indication of food prices within elysium?

[the-eldritch-it-gay]

i need 2 go to bed but when I did my first playthrough of disco elysium, I managed to open the compartment in the ledger while Kim was away taking the body to processing. And I just. I don't know why, but I liked that. Because I thought I had fucked up and died or ruined the game or something but then I come to with Kim there, giving us water, and saying that he heard on the shortwave radio an officer in martinaise passed out and he had a feeling it was Harry, so he came back and says he was glad he got here in time. It also means I basically never had time away from Kim because the one time he left we ended up collapsing and he came back early.

[sengokubasara3]

there is a Lot of lore to keep track of in disco elysium so i may have missed something, but until i have evidence to the contrary my headcanons are the following 1. shooting up the church was harry's breaking point prior to the game's beginning 2. the three confirmed deaths he's responsible for all happened there.

he killed three innocent people in a single, horrific day, beneath the image of a woman inextricably associated with his ex.

and who knows how many people the other officers on the scene killed?

like yeah, he's been fucked up over dora for a while, but things had to have suddenly spiraled for a reason. i think, in that church, he must have done something so awful he quite literally couldn't live with it. so decided he'd kill himself either in body or in mind. put down the animal.

the way he reacts if ruby commits suicide -- due to his actions, she commits suicide -- is what really sells me on this. he can quit right then and there. "I'm no longer a cop. I wish I never was. No one should be." "Fuck the RCM. Fuck duty." as that ending states, he's "fallen on hard times" since quitting. he'll probably (definitely) die in that ending, one way or another. he doesn't know how to live as anything other than a cop.

so if i take all this to be true: i think that game over scenario is the story's beginning repeating itself. after death, life; after life, death again.

[bloodanddiscoballs]

Kim is a,fascist

are you stupid

[immamapletreekid]

work anxiety starting before work itself hahahahaahahahahahahhhaha

[arrivingonthescene]

something to be said about how taking anything that isn't hypnogamma (morale boost) or drouamine (health boost) is seen as addict behavior like anything unregulated by an institution is a Bad Moral Choice to everyone around you but you're still expected to cram prescription medication down your gullet due to how frequent you encounter damage in the game. all these chemicals do the same thing in boosting your stats and aiding you in choices (can i survive this conversation w.o drouamine, can i muster enough physique w.o a drink) except obviously one is more panned by the game's dialogue. i think giving a consequence (verbal or game mechanics wise) to taking too many heals would have made the game far more difficult but the fact that no one really minds if you take a ton of painkillers since this is expected and you are a cop! and purchased them legally! compared to the pyrholidon which is a drug crows nest roy took to cope with the horrors of being in nuclear waste clean up which is handed to you under the counter. which when you look it up is inspired by a soviet era drug used for similar reasons and became illegal due to recreational use. a chemical does the same thing regardless if authority demands it's beneficial or harmful to you