No-Fault instructed Eddie to go to a specific doctor's office to see two specific back doctors so that they could check him out for under a minute each and tell him he could not continue going to the doctor so that the insurance company could stop paying.
That's not what the letter said, but we knew what it meant.
I went with him to the office. When we went into the building, we couldn't find the right suite. The doctor's names were not on the list in the building. We went up the stairs. We walked down the hall and I asked if I was in the right place. The woman looked at me as if I were crazy and then said, Down the hall.
You know those nightmare sequences in movies where scary people direct you in the scariest direction and there's all that smoke and gloom and the distinct smell of despair wafting by?
We turned back and went down the hall to the only door there. It was a pediatrician's office, abandoned and ominous. I took hold of the doorknob and said, We may be walking into our deaths.
When I saw what was inside, I didn't think I was far from the truth. The lighting almost blinded me. It had remnants of being a pediatrics office, but really, that part was the scariest part. I don't think children would have appreciated the decor.
About ten people were bustling around but no one was behind the desk. Finally, someone came over and asked us to sign in and wanted Eddie's license. Someone photocopied it and someone else gave him a clipboard of paperwork to fill out.
We went over to the side and I kind of did not want to sit down. The place was creeping me out. Everyone who walked into the door or was sitting looked confused. This is the kind of place no-fault sends you.
He filled out the paperwork and was called in. I was like, come back quickly please. I was joking, of course. However, the doctors might have heard and taken me seriously because not more than five minutes later, he was walking out to the waiting room, all finished.
The first doctor told him to turn his head one way and turn it the other. Then he was done. The doctor said he was fine and said he shouldn't go to his doctor anymore.
The second doctor felt his back and, hold onto your seat, said that he still had spasms and should continue seeing the doctor to get them out.
Really? Like, really?
So not only were these completely conflicting statements, they were also completely ridiculous considering when Eddie goes to the doctor, he's there for more than, let's say, two seconds for an exam.
How unethical is that? Seriously. You spend half a minute with someone and decide he's fine? Meanwhile, his doctor who sees him every week says that he should keep coming once a week? Health care? You suck. No-fault? You suck more.
The only saving grace was the second doctor who gave an honest opinion--he should keep seeing someone to work on the spasms.
Not that the insurance people listened to that recommendation. Or maybe the doctor said one thing and recommended something else. Or maybe just the first doctor counted. For whatever reason, no-fault sent a letter to Eddie saying he could no longer see his doctor because he was cured!
Tell that to his back spasms. I think they might disagree.