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It starts the way these stories often do: with a benefit you barely think about. For three years, Plum was simply part of Riyaz Shaikh’s corporate policy — a button on the app grid, something he’d opened once and then forgotten. “I guess I’ve been using Plum for the last three years because it’s a corporate policy,” he said. “Before Plum, I had health insurance but I never used it.” Like most of us, insurance was theoretical. Something important, yes, but safely abstract.
Then, one night, his father collapsed with a major heart attack.
There isn’t much time to scroll through network hospital lists when a life is on the line. Riyaz did what anyone would: he rushed his father to the nearest emergency room. Only after his father was stabilised did he learn the hospital wasn’t part of the insurer’s cashless network. “I was not aware whether this hospital has been covered or not,” he recalled. “I asked for the cashless service and they said it’s not covered.” There is a specific kind of dread that settles in when a crisis intersects with paperwork — the fear that you acted correctly as a son, but incorrectly as a policyholder.
When he called Plum, he expected a technical answer. He got something else. “They assured me that even if it’s an emergency and you can’t move him to a cashless hospital, don’t worry. We’ll help you reimburse.” What stayed with him wasn’t just the reassurance but the process: “Plum told me to submit the documents to them first. They checked everything and told me what might get rejected before sending it to the insurance company.” Between the fear and the unknown, someone stepped in to translate the system. And the reimbursement came through — deductions, yes, but fair ones, he said. More importantly, he felt seen.
“They assured me that even if it’s an emergency and you can’t move him to a cashless hospital, don’t worry. We’ll help you reimburse.”
It might have ended there – one resolved emergency, one lasting impression – but life isn’t that linear. Months later, he found himself preparing for a five-hour surgery involving his tonsils, uvula, and nasal cord. This time he booked a cashless claim. And this time the fear returned differently. “I got an email saying ₹50,000 is approved,” he said. “The cost of the operation was ₹2.5 lakhs. I didn’t have enough savings. I panicked.” The kind of panic that makes cancellation feel like the safest option. “I said, I don’t have the money. I’m not proceeding with the operation.”
So he called Plum again. This time the emergency line, half-expecting to be turned away. Instead: “He told me, sir, this number is for urgent cases, but don’t worry. I’ll schedule a callback for you within an hour.” Someone did call back. Someone explained. “They told me even though the company says ₹50,000, it doesn’t mean that’s all you’ll get. It just means you can go ahead. Ultimately, they will give you the fair coverage you have.”
By discharge, nearly the entire bill, around ₹2.44–₹2.45 lakhs, was settled. “I’m not looking for that ₹3,000 difference,” he said. “I got the major part covered.” But when he talks about that time, it’s the human moments he circles back to: “The agent consoled me a lot. She explained everything very nicely. She even followed up when I was hospitalised. After the operation, when I couldn’t talk, she guided my family.” In those few days, he discovered that support is emotional as much as it is administrative.
“I’m not looking for that ₹3,000 difference,” he said. “I got the major part covered.”
Between the emergencies, medicine became quieter and something closer to everyday life. Telehealth turned into a habit he didn’t expect. “I have been using telehealth for many reasons,” he said. “Skin issues, allergies, neurological problems, therapy.” He didn’t just consult one doctor; he compared opinions, especially when one prescription felt uncomfortable. “One doctor advised a heavy medicine that made me very drowsy. Another gave me something lighter.” It wasn’t just convenience. It was agency.
And then there were the surprises: “Your insurance may not cover your siblings, but Plum telehealth covers brothers and sisters. I love that part a lot.” And the detail that delighted him most: “Even vets are available on Plum. You can consult a doctor for your pet as well.” In an ecosystem where benefits are often rigid and narrow, he found something unexpectedly generous.
Preventive care entered his life just as quietly. “I didn’t even know Plum had health checkups,” he admitted. “I just explored the app and saw a discounted or free checkup. So I went ahead with that.” It wasn’t planned; it was made easy.
I didn’t even know Plum had health checkups,” he admitted. “I just explored the app and saw a discounted or free checkup. So I went ahead with that.”
But perhaps the biggest shift was internal. Insurance — personal insurance — was something he never trusted. “Everywhere you see claims not being settled,” he said. “It feels like it’s all a scam — they’ll take money and not pay you.” But after two major claims and dozens of consultations, his perception changed completely. “I even asked Plum earlier if you had personal insurance. At that time you didn’t. Now you’ve introduced it.” And now, he says, “I want my health journey to continue with Plum, even if I switch companies.”
Stories like his show how deeply health events ripple through a family long after the hospital visits and phone calls are over. What mattered most to him wasn’t the system around him, but how navigable it felt when he needed it most. It’s a window into how ordinary people experience care: in small gestures, steady explanations, and the comfort of not having to face everything alone.
Insurance is often described as a promise. But as Riyaz’s journey shows, a promise is only as meaningful as the people who make you believe it.
