I have this fantasy about how I would CTB and I would like to make it mean something . . .
. . . and there is more than a hint of revenge to the fantasy as well . . .
Last year I suffered a 75% rupture of my Achilles tendon. That happened toward the end of August. My insurance company said I could not see a physical therapist until mid October, they were just too busy until then. Latest research says that getting into therapy very quickly afterward would be my very best chance of recovery. I was in pain, really needing the help, and was expected to just wait over 6 weeks.
In early September, I appealed their decision to make me wait and they sent me back a letter saying that they would take around 90 days to consider my request.
I am appealing for quick treatment, and they want to think about that for 90 days. Those twisted rat bastards.
Even with the insurance, I couldn't afford MRIs or a specialist, so I'm only asking for some PT here. Their own physical therapist ordered an immediate 12 week therapy plan, but they still said no.
They finally allowed me 3 visits - 30 minutes each - for a total of 90 minutes of rehab. That is all I got for a ruptured tendon.
Now, over 8 months later I still can't walk and it still hurts. I used to ride a motorcycle. I used to walk the dog. I used to grocery shop without having to drive one of those little carts around the store. I roller skated and rode a unicycle. Now I struggle to get up and down the 3 flights of stairs to get in and out of my apartment.
My insurance company purposefully neglected me and took away what little quality of life I had - while causing me months (years?) of unnecessary pain.
Since they saved so much money by neglecting me, I would like to cost them a lot. I fantasize about CTB in the middle of their lobby in the messiest way possible. It would require some sort of magic to do, because I don't want to physically harm people or even damage the building. I would just like to paint the whole place in my blood and mushed up organs. I want it to traumatize every executive in the place. I imagine that they can't even evacuate the building without walking every one of those bastards right through a bloody mess of my mangled entrails. What money they saved on the physical therapy they refused me would look completely insignificant compared to what they would have to spend on the cleaning bill. I imagine those pasty fucks losing their trendy lunches all over their five hundred dollar suits. I imagine they'll need therapy afterward, but they'll have to wait six weeks and only get 3, 30 minute visits. I want a couple of the old farts to have heart attacks from it, and be told to go home and wait 6 weeks for treatment.
My real hope is that I could draw attention to how they do business and save others from being crippled like I was. I want to hurt their bottom line, hurt their business, hurt their reputation, hurt everything about them, and make the building itself into a horrible reminder of what medical abuse does to people. Since it's a fantasy, I can even imagine them changing the way they do business and actually giving a shit in the future.
I wanted to CTB anyway, if I could also harm a corrupt company in the process - bonus points.
If they could scoop up enough of me to bury, I would want my headstone to have their slogan:
Kaiser Permanente WA
The Evergreen State of Health
