Chapter Twenty-Four

Ken paid special attention to my feet in this morning's shower and I almost fell asleep leaning against the shower wall. Glorious foot rub to start my day. Our coffee is good and strong and the mood is light and easy. Ken actually does the boogie woogie around the kitchen island and I fall in love all over again. I am the luckiest woman in the world.

Ken has given quite a list of things to do today. Top on the list is finding out where some missing paperwork is for my FMLA leave. CIGNA requested yet another form from my doctor and as yet have not received it. My work can't request donated leave hours until CIGNA gets that form. So, first on my list is to physically go to the doctors office and wait for the form to be signed, then fax it to CIGNA. No form, no paycheck. Or only 1/2 a paycheck.

At this time CIGNA has denied my short term disability as they feel this is a work related injury. Workers Compensation (or rather the insurance company that processes workers comp for my company) has denied my claim as they don't consider mental stress a work issue. If I had witnessed someone being shot and had PTSD, then it would be covered. But anxiety and panic attacks due to long term stress is not considered to be a work related injury. I can appeal both decisions.

To appeal Workers Comp I have three options.
1. Do it myself.
2. Hire a lawyer.
3. Have a state agency assign me an ombudsman to process the appeal for me.

To appeal the short term disability denial I have to write up a statement, attach a copy of my denial letter from Workers Comp, and get copies of all my records of doctor visits etc (that they already have, but I have to send them again). My case manager said Of course you can appeal! But you won't get anywhere. This is a work related injury. That's how we see it. But, send all that in. Good luck.

So I'm stuck between two insurance companies that won't pay and both say the other should. What a system.

I find out the delay with getting the paperwork from my doctor is she is out of town. Has been for a while and won't be back until next Tuesday. I leave messages for everyone I can think of with CIGNA, HR, and Workers Compensation.

I am oddly calm. I am more upset about this stupid stockinette stitch that is loose and wanky on the baby blanket i'm knitting for my grandson. How's that for some redirection? I am sitting at the tire place, waiting on my car. It is getting rotated and balanced and I am knitting the second thing I've ever knitted in my life. I feel so normal. Hallelujah! I laugh out loud and the little old man sitting next to me grins. He tells me his wife was a knitter and we are off into a wonderful, warm conversation. We are both a little disappointed when the technician tells me my car is ready. I hug my little old man goodbye and next on my list is the grocery store. But a funny thing happens. My car takes me home. I had every intention of going to the store and am confused about how I got home. So, ok, still healing. I really want my brain back, I miss it.

The HR department from work calls and thinks that my therapist can fill out the form and CIGNA will be satisfied with that. If I can make that happen by Tuesday before payroll closes then maybe I can get a paycheck. I immediately call Leslie and of course she can. Forms are left in mailboxes and I go home and add to tomorrow's list to call and check things with Leslie, CIGNA, and HR. Look at me. Taking care of business.

I might never be "cured." Leslie thinks I might be dealing with some sort of anxiety for the rest of my life. I have to pay special attention to stressors, learn to recognize the signals my body is sending my brain, and try and deflect, redirect, calm, and move forward. I have definite short term memory issues. And these weird basic personality changes. I am learning about the new me.

As my friend Dave says "Keep moving towards the light." I am my fortress. I can be safe anywhere with some practice.