Dropped

I had thought that having lawyers would help bring the need to fight and reiterate every single move I made down to a minimal task, but I was completely wrong. I was constantly having to report my every move, every appointment, every conversation, and my next plan of action over and over again. A lot of the times I got the, "I don't have it up in front of me, remind me again," spiel, which became more and more frustrating. I regularly reported to a man that was part of my "team" for my case. I honestly dreaded the conversations and every time I would see the caller I.D. knowing who was on the other line, I'd cringe. He would ask me what I was working on and what I was doing next, I would explain and then I got this dreary reply, "Oh, the insurance company isn't going to like that. They are very conservative with their treatments. I'm not sure if we'll be able to get the money back for that," each and every phone call. I found it frustrating and annoying because what was I paying lawyers for if they weren't going to fight on my behalf, didn't they want to see me get better and exhaust all of my options? I finally had enough and after over a year of this, I spoke to another team member on my case and asked for someone more understanding to take over. They half heartedly laughed a little and said, "I'm not sure why you were told to speak with this particular team member because he's our finance guy for the case. Of course he's going to be conservative with the budget."

I was told that every appointment, every hotel, meal receipt, gas receipt and any and every other receipt that was related to my health, be kept and accounted for and that I would receive my reimbursement at the end of all of this. It was all out of pocket from the moment the insurance company cut us off and it became more and more tighter and harder on my family as all of our funds were scrimped, saved and spent on me. It was taxing on our marriage too. I felt like a thief in a sense, not giving my girls the opportunity to do extra curricular things or having that extra bit of money for my husband to treat himself for all of the extra hard working hours he put in. It all felt heavy on me and I couldn't help but feel selfish and guilty for it. Money we had saved to do our dream greenhouse was all gone and spent on me. Money to go on a family vacation, gone too. There were months where we scraped by and ate meals of rice and veggies to help get us by. The promise that we would get our money back at the end of all of this felt like the day couldn't come soon enough! I tirelessly fought hard trying to find an answer as to what was going on with my body.

We were flying back and forth to Vancouver for seven months now, each and every month for my specialized pelvic floor physio and every penny coming out of our pockets. After awhile, I again got to the point where I needed to know if I was where my physiotherapist thought I should be. "M" wasn't the easiest woman to approach and I mustered up the confidence to politely ask, which came with this reply, "You‘re there, I'm here and I should be seeing you at least twice a week and I'm not able to! This isn't working!" She got up from her chair, opened the door and abruptly said, " I think you've got Endometriosis, go figure it out!" "Endometriosis? Where did this come from?" I asked. She was visibly irritated and ushered me out and pretty much told me that she was done with me. To say that my heart was crushed would be an understatement, the uncontrollable sobbing came and my husband tried to stay positive for me, but it felt like my world had been squashed yet again. We flew back home and I had an appointment with my family doctor to catch her up on how my Vancouver appointment went. "Endometriosis? She said she thinks you have Endometriosis. Keana, I've known you since you were a little girl, you don't have that, but we'll put a referral to the gynecologist to appease your physiotherapist. I would also like if you reached out again to the local physiotherapist and see if she'd be willing to work along with the pelvic floor physiotherapist, that way it'll show that you are willing to make things work." I explained that the specialized physiotherapist pretty much told me that she didn't want to see me anymore, but my doctor said, "She's been our only lead and only person that has really helped. You have to go back." I was terrified at the thought of going back to Vancouver to see someone that wasn't too keen on seeing me.

My gynecologist appointment came and I sat in his office explaining my accident and everything that I had done up until that point. I told him the concerns from my physiotherapist and once that was done, he brought me to an examination room where he had to do an internal exam to check. The pain I felt was out of this world and excruciatingly painful. He asked the nurse to bring in some Tylenol to help bring down the pain a bit for me and told me to meet him back in his office. When I got back into his room he said, " You know, Keana, when we were talking before the exam, I thought there was no way that you had Endometriosis. After the exam though, you have all of the classic pain signs to where we find Endometriosis. I want you to think about what you would like to do. You have the option of having an exploratory surgery to confirm Endometriosis or I can put you on a medication to help stop further growths and see how your body responds to that." I felt stunned and a bit angry. I told him that I had been totally fine before my car accident, and why would I all of a sudden experience this pain now? He explained that I could've been in my 50's and only find out then that I had it but because of the trauma from the accident it cranked the volume up on the pain and condition. I left his office in disbelief that this was what I was up against. I really struggled with coming to terms with the diagnosis. That this awful disorder was now part of my story now. I had known a few women that had it and it was awful hearing the suffering that they went through on a regular basis. I wanted to scream. It felt so unfair and yet another issue that I had to deal with on top of all of the other stuff that my body was experiencing. I discussed the options with my husband and we both agreed that with it now being over two years dealing with this daily suffering and hell from my accident, that surgery would help give peace of mind and hopefully help in some way. When I went to my next appointment to see the gynecologist, I explained my decision and he said, "No, I've decided that surgery has too many risks involved and the medication is a safer option and so I'm going to put you on the medication." I tried to argue my case but it got me nowhere. He also told me that most women wait when their pelvic pain is out of control and that's when he finally sees them and wished that I had come to him sooner. He told me that he was going to put a referral to the Women's Pelvic Pain and Endometriosis clinic in Vancouver and instead of me having to run around to all of these different treatments, it would be a one stop shop. I would have a team of doctors, specialists, physiotherapists and they would all work together and put a plan together to help me. The days of me repeating myself over and over were soon to be gone and to have someone take me under their wing and help me felt like a dream! I was told that it could take up to a year to get in, which felt like a really long wait for something that I desperately needed.

I made the appointment with my local physiotherapist that my doctor told me to go back to. She was more than happy to help but told me that she had no clue about my treatment plan and that I would need to show her and coach her on it. I showed her step by step everything I was doing but to be honest it felt like a big waste of time. I could tell that it was beyond her. She told me in the middle of me showing her an exercise, that I wasn't fully finished showing, "Looks perfect. Keep going with that and I'll be right back."

We took the dreaded trip back to Vancouver. I will never forget that day. It was all of my anxiety fears coming true. My husband tried to tell me that I was working myself up to nothing and the appointment would be totally fine. We waited in the treatment room for "M," and when she opened the door, she threw her hands up in the air and said, "What are you doing here? I told you that we were done!" I explained what my doctor recommended and the new findings. She said, "Great, I'm glad you have a physiotherapist and it's my rule of thumb that if someone is working on one area than I will not work the same area. Since she oversaw your pelvis, I will not touch your pelvis anymore." I couldn't believe it, that I had only shown my local physiotherapist the moves that she (the pelvic floor physiotherapist) taught me, only once, as my doctor suggested, and now the pelvic floor physiotherapist used that as her excuse to not treat me anymore. I was mad. I argued and argued but it went around and around in circles with "M." It was the most frustrating thing to deal with and the rejection hurt even more. I was yet again left in the dark with no one to help me. It hurt more than anyone could ever imagine. To suffer every day in a lot of pain, the financial burden that my body brought, to constantly advocate and repeat myself over and over, to go to the constant appointments and do all of the homework that goes along with it and then to be rejected over and over again on top of trying to be a mom and a wife, it was all too much.