Angel by
Marc Chagall
Call it writer's block. Effects from an accident with an urban transport bus, late last November, have left me in a curious limbo. Stress-related anxiety and limited performance continue to plague me. Though I've improved since the first week after the accident, when I was bumping into glass doors and burning myself without feeling pain for an unusual length of time. I still freeze whenever I face general complexities, view quantitative data, or find numerous tasks on my back burner.
Until recently, I waited for a physical from my new family physician. It was tough enough to find a doctor in my new home town — a small city in southwestern Ontario. Last winter, only 10 family physicians showed up in the official Doctor Search as accepting new patients. Two of these physicians had disciplinary notes against them; seven had changed their status to "not accepting new patients" (a euphemism for "I've reached my allowable profit level") or were part of a walk-in clinic. Only one was a 'free agent': Ketan Patel.
I finally saw Dr. Patel in February. But only to renew my prescriptions. The physical, I was told, would have to wait.
The physical never took place. The clinic kept postponing them for a later time. I was getting anxious.
Not helping was a representative in accident/benefits at my auto insurance company. When I mentioned to Ms. Hetal Choksi of RBC Insurance that I had memory loss and concentration difficulties, she retorted with some vehemence: "Those are not injuries!" My anxiety levels rose as I questioned her on this so-called policy. Reluctantly, she sent a benefits package with an agressive cover letter and a deadline for completion.
The forms might as well have been written in hieroglyphics for all the sense they made.
Facing another aggression from Ms. Choksi in a subsequent conversation, I asked her to escalate the call. Mr. Chris Metson was far more understanding when I explained what I had been through. He was patient on the filling out of the required forms. They kept sitting, keeping other papers company.
In August, I called Dr. Patel's clinic again, asking for the overdue physical. When the clinic informed me that the doctor was no longer offering this type of service, I was beside myself. It had been over six months since I had first seen Dr. Patel — briefly, for prescription fill-outs. And it had been over nine months since the accident. I was still having cognitive difficulties.
Upon expressing my anxiety in no uncertain terms, I was transferred to a Russian angel. It's true. I didn't recognize Irina as such, for I had trouble calming down. But once she and I found common ground, she informed me of the Motor Vehicle Assessment clinic that Dr. Patel had formed the month before. Gee, why did I have to get unhinged to finally hear about this new development?
Irina asked me to come in with the accident/benefit forms that had languished among my papers. And with great patience, she helped me fill them out. She also wondered why the package from my insurer did not include OCF-12, the form produced by the Financial Services Commission of Ontario and dealing with cognitive issues. I asked her if it was common practice for other insurers to provide this. "Yes," replied.
When I mentioned the ommission of OCF-12 to Mr. Metson, he produced a spectacular slip-and-slide. Lies, too, that this was the first time he had heard about my difficulties. (Well, hello, dear! Why on earth did I have the call escalated, why did I complain to you about Ms Choksi and her comments if there was no problem?)
But the best was yet to come. When I mentioned to Metson that my doctor would be performing a motor vehicle assessment, covered by the insurer, Metson replied vehemently: "We're not paying for that!"
"They have to. By law," Dr. Patel said when I mentioned the incident.
Is it any wonder that veterans and others experience difficulties, having their stress disorders recognized seriously?
They need a Russian angel — and a doctor Patel. They also need to know their rights with, say, insurers, information kept close to the vest by the Financial Services Commission of Ontario. Who even knew they existed to protect the interests of — whom?
Do the guidelines produced by the FSCO have teeth? Or has this organization been created to protect members — financial service companies who pay the FSCO a fee?
Things to ponder.
For now, I'm in good medical hands — at last. A preliminary motor vehicle assessment by Dr. Patel showed some dysfunction. He requested a CAT scan, among other items. All the while, my Russian angel filled out more insurance forms, which continue to confuse me.
"They do that on purpose," Dr. Patel explained.
That's the compensation you get for the hefty premiums you pay the insurer on a monthly basis. Swell.
