AGENCY OF CREDIT CONTROL INC v. CHRISTIE MARIE ENTIZNE AKA CHRISTIE YOUNG

Let’s cut straight to the chase: someone in Tulsa owes two thousand dollars for anesthesiology services—yes, the people who put you under during surgery—and now a debt collection agency is dragging them into court over it. Not $20,000. Not $2,000,000. Two. Thousand. Dollars. For gas. That’s the legal drama unfolding in District Court of Tulsa County, where the stakes are low, the tension is nonexistent, and the irony is sky-high.

Meet Christie Marie Entizne, also known as Christie Young—because apparently one name wasn’t enough for the court system to keep track of her. She’s the defendant in this high-octane, pulse-pounding saga of unpaid medical bills and bureaucratic follow-ups. On the other side? Agency of Credit Control Inc., a debt collection firm with all the charm of a parking ticket and the emotional resonance of a late fee notice. Representing them is attorney Melissa East, who—bless her heart—filed this lawsuit on January 21, 2025, over a debt that allegedly dates back to February 12, 2022. That’s nearly three years of silence, followed by a legal mic drop. And the reason for this long-simmering grudge? Anesthesiology services. Not plastic surgery. Not experimental stem cell therapy. The kind of thing you get when you’re knocked out for a procedure and wake up wondering why your throat hurts and your goldfish has a new name.

Now, let’s talk about what actually happened—or more accurately, what didn’t happen, which is payment. According to the filing, Associated Anesthesiologists Inc.—a real company that, yes, puts people to sleep for a living—provided services to Christie at some point before February 2022. What procedure she had? Open-heart surgery? Wisdom teeth extraction? A colonoscopy she’d rather forget? The petition doesn’t say. Was she under general anesthesia or just sedated? Again, silence. All we know is that someone administered anesthetic, someone breathed it in, and someone—Christie—failed to write a check. Or Venmo. Or PayPal. Or pay in cryptocurrency, which, let’s be honest, might have avoided this whole mess.

Fast-forward to 2025. No payment. No explanation. Just radio silence. So Associated Anesthesiologists Inc. did what all medical providers do when they’re tired of waiting: they sold the debt to a collection agency. Enter Agency of Credit Control Inc., the financial equivalent of a repo man with a spreadsheet. They didn’t provide the care, they didn’t see Christie wheeled into the OR, they didn’t hear her mumble “I love my mom” right before the mask went on. But now, they’re the ones suing her. Why? Because they bought the debt—meaning they now legally own it and can pursue it like a bounty hunter with a W-2. It’s not personal. It’s just business. Cold, spreadsheet-driven, slightly passive-aggressive business.

So here we are: a debt collection agency, armed with a two-page petition and a calculator, demanding $2,000 in principal, plus $353.08 in interest that’s accrued since the original bill went unpaid. That interest? It’s not some predatory rate. It’s the legal maximum in Oklahoma—6% per year. Which sounds low until you realize that after three years, it’s basically the cost of a nice dinner for two. Add to that post-judgment interest (which kicks in after the court rules), court costs, and—because this is America—a “reasonable” attorney’s fee. So Christie isn’t just on the hook for $2,000. She could end up owing closer to $2,500 if the judge grants everything the plaintiff is asking for. All for services rendered during a medical procedure we know nothing about.

Now, let’s talk about the lawsuit itself. The petition is so bare-bones it makes IKEA instructions look like Shakespeare. Three paragraphs. That’s it. No dramatic backstory. No claims of fraud, no allegations of identity theft, no “I was unconscious and therefore couldn’t consent to being billed.” Just: “We provided services. She didn’t pay. Now we want our money.” It’s the legal version of a passive-aggressive sticky note left on the office fridge: “Someone didn’t clean up after using the microwave. This is awkward.”

And yet, here we are. In court. Over $2,000. Is that a lot of money? Well, yes and no. For some people, $2,000 is a month’s rent. For others, it’s a down payment on a used car. For a medical provider? It’s probably the cost of one anesthesia machine lease for a week. But for a debt collector? It’s profit. And not just the $2,000—because if they win, they also get interest, fees, and court costs. So even if they only collect $2,500, that’s a 25% markup on a debt they likely bought for pennies on the dollar. These agencies often purchase old debts for 10–20% of their face value. So Agency of Credit Control might have paid $400 for this $2,000 claim. Which means, if they win, they’re looking at a 500% return. Suddenly, this isn’t just about justice. It’s about leverage. And litigation is their leverage.

What’s missing from this case? Everything interesting. Did Christie dispute the bill? Was there an insurance issue? Did she file for bankruptcy? Move? Die? Marry a prince? The filing doesn’t say. There’s no counterclaim. No evidence of hardship. No dramatic twist. Just a cold, hard demand for money owed. And honestly? That’s what makes this so absurdly normal. This isn’t a case about betrayal or theft or even malpractice. It’s about the quiet, grinding machinery of American debt—where a routine medical procedure, a missed payment, and a third-party collector collide into a court filing that sounds like it was generated by a robot trained on 1980s legal textbooks.

Our take? We’re rooting for clarity. Not for the debt collector. Not for Christie. But for the system to stop pretending this is justice. A grown adult is being sued over a medical bill for anesthesia—something she literally could not have refused in the moment—by a company that wasn’t even there. And the court is expected to adjudicate this like it’s Erin Brockovich, but with less Julia Roberts and more paperwork. The most absurd part? That this is normal. That thousands of cases like this happen every day across America. That people are hauled into court not for fraud or violence, but for forgetting to pay a bill they might not even remember getting.

And let’s not forget: anesthesia is invisible. You don’t see it. You don’t feel it. You just… go to sleep. And wake up. And then, three years later, get sued for it. If that’s not a metaphor for the American healthcare system, we don’t know what is.

So here’s to Christie Marie Entizne, aka Christie Young—the woman who got knocked out by medicine and woken up by a lawsuit. May her interest rate be low, her attorney be free, and her next procedure come with a very clear billing statement. And to Agency of Credit Control Inc.? Congrats. You’ve successfully turned a $2,000 medical debt into a public spectacle. Now go collect your check—after the court, the state, and the legal system all take their cut. Truly, the only thing this case puts to sleep is our faith in common sense.