Why Helen exists

My grandmother’s name is Helen. A while back, she was in the hospital three times in one month. Suddenly we were having conversations about skilled nursing — what it would look like, where she’d go, how long she could stay.

But we didn’t know what was covered. We didn’t know what kind of insurance she had. She didn’t know exactly what she had. What was covered and what wasn’t. How much it would cost. How long she’d be covered for. Which facilities were in her network and which ones weren’t.

We scrambled to find her insurance cards. And when we finally did, I was more confused than I was to begin with.

I work in healthcare. I build programs that serve people on Medicare and Medicaid. I talk to health plans every day. And I was sitting there squinting at her card, guessing at what half the numbers meant.

If I couldn’t figure it out — in the middle of a crisis, when it actually mattered — what chance does everyone else have?

Not because people aren’t smart. Because the system wasn’t built for them to understand it.

Insurance cards are designed for billing systems, not for the people carrying them. They’re full of codes and abbreviations that make perfect sense to a claims processor and zero sense to a family trying to figure out what happens next.

The result is that most people walk around with a card in their wallet that they don’t understand. They don’t know what their deductible is. They don’t know the difference between in-network and out-of-network. They don’t know that their ER copay might be $400 before their deductible even kicks in. They find out when the bill shows up — or worse, in the middle of a hospital stay, when they’re making decisions that can’t wait.

That’s not a literacy problem. It’s a design problem.

Helen is a simple tool. Take a photo of your insurance card, and it explains what the card actually means — in plain English, with the numbers that matter, and the things that might surprise you.

No account. No login. No data stored. Your card image is read once to generate the explanation, then deleted. Helen doesn’t keep a copy. We built it as though HIPAA applies, even though technically it doesn’t.

I named it after my grandmother because she’s the reason it exists. In the moment when it mattered most, her insurance was a wall instead of a window. Nobody should have to fight through that during the hardest weeks of their life.

If Helen helped you, send it to someone who needs it. That’s all I ask.

Questions or feedback? mike@farerx.com