top of page

Cat & Mouse

"Are you feeling stressed out at all? How are you emotionally?" Brandon asked me, as I lay on the couch heating my body. "Why? What's going on?" I asked. Within the same week of seeing the IME, he wrote an email to us stating he didn't have enough information to fulfill the report, required by the car insurance company. Gut punched. Instant stress. ( exhale) I knew it. I knew the nagging feeling in my gut was telling me something, and there it was. Why did he end my appointment early and tell us that he had everything that he needed then? I thought that I had at least bought a month of peace, before we got hit with the anticipated bomb drop, from attending the IME appointment, but I was wrong.

In his email, the IME demanded every report and the names of every individual I've encountered, an incredibly overwhelming task. Over the years, I've interacted with well over a hundred people. I remember compiling a list for my lawyers around year three, which already included close to 70 individuals. This request would require me to backtrack through over eight years of countless interactions, inevitably leading to overlooked names. It felt like a setup for failure. Brandon made some inquiries, informing them that all of my reports and information had been sealed in the records, known as the torte. If they insisted on access to everything, reopening the torte would be necessary, a step they seemed unwilling to take. Ultimately, they agreed to only require information post-settlement. The scramble to gather my records began. Failure to comply with the deadline, I was warned, would result in an immediate termination of coverage.

I went to the hospital to grab my records, but was informed I needed to navigate through another avenue within the system. Eventually, I found myself on the bottom floor of the hospital.

The basement gave off a creepy vibe, not going to lie. It was filled with random medical equipment, and the ongoing construction made it feel like a scene out of a Home Alone movie, with Kevin setting traps in his uncle's under-construction New York apartment. I managed to locate the hallway leading to the administrative office where I needed to get my records. However, I was met with a series of locked doors and no one in sight. I did the most logical thing, and knocked on every door, hoping to find someone to help me.

To my surprise, one of the doors cracked open, revealing a background of lively tunes. I quickly explained what I needed to the woman behind the door, who directed me to another door with a doorbell by it. After ringing it, I waited anxiously until a woman answered. I explained my situation, emphasizing the fast approaching deadline and the consequences of not obtaining my hospital records in time.

"It's at least a three-month wait," she informed me matter-of-factly.

Feeling a wee bit panicked and even more stressed, I politely begged, "I understand, but I really need this. Is there any chance you could fast track the process? My coverage will be cut off otherwise." She instructed me to fill out a form, providing specific details that might speed up my wait. "Just so you know," she cautioned, "there are over 400 people ahead of you in line, and the count keeps growing. It's unlikely to be quick, but I'll do what I can."

We ended up asking the car insurance company for an extension to the deadline and they agreed to give me a bit more time. The nice lady in the creepy hospital basement, followed through and gave me my records sooner than expected. Problem averted. Everything was sent in and now the wait.

My appointment with the new Physiatrist finally arrived, sparking a mix of excitement and worry. While I'm hopeful about the potential possibilities, I can't shake the fear of letting down my family again if things don't pan out. Brandon, filled with hope, seeing this as the missing piece and an answer to our prayers. Yet, I'm cautious, having been disappointed before. I had my whole treatment plan mapped out with my current team, but now I must open up to someone new, trust them, and embrace whatever they suggest.


bottom of page