Recently, a follower of my blog wrote to me about the car accident I was involved in back in July of 2007—I wrote about it, very briefly, in August of last year, and you can read about it on my blog, if you want. She wanted to know if the law suit was ever settled and how I was doing with the consequences of that life-altering event.
Now, I’m not going to rehash that awful part of my life—I’m still trying to get over the effects of it—but what I will do is continue from where I left off. I guess I’ll call it Part Eight, since there were seven parts of the whole when I wrote about it last year.
So, in May of last year, 2014, I had to go through a lot of assessments because the lawyer representing the insurance company wanted to get a thorough understanding of my current physical and mental state. And let me tell you it wasn’t easy talking about all that shit again, and having people poke and prod me like a cow in a slaughter house. The professionals who do these types of assessments are there to prove one thing and one thing only, that there’s nothing wrong with you. The morning of the first assessment I was so nervous I threw up, but after that first assessment was over, the floodgates opened once again and the other assessments were easier. It was a relief when I was finished the last one.
The first exam, May 7, 2014, was with an Occupational Therapist, who was, quite frankly, a bitch. The second exam, May 20, 2014, was with a Vocational Rehabilitation Specialist, who was fairly professional. The third exam, June 9, 2014, was with a Neuropsychologist. The fourth exam, June 12, 2014, was with a Psychiatrist, with whom I had met before, which was good, because he had background information; therefore, my exam was short and sweet. The final exam, June 19, 2014, was with a Physiatrist, who was a menopausal bitch.
After the assessments were done, there were a few phone calls from the lawyer’s office to discuss the results. Then, nothing.
My mother was invited up to see my son Confirmed and for his Grade 8 Graduation. When school was over we all went on vacation to Newfoundland. My partner stayed for one week and my son and I stayed for a month. It was quite therapeutic. When we got back we got ready for my son’s first year in high school. I was back in physiotherapy once again, and I was still getting Income Replacement Benefits from the insurance company, and my partner got a promotion and a better salary, so our financial situation improved.
I felt better about my relationship with my son and I pray that this whole ordeal has not scarred him too badly. I tried my best to put his needs first, and I hope that this will not affect him later in life. I know first-hand that what a person goes through as a child impacts them later, when they least expect it. He is honest with me and has grown into a wonderful teenager with a life of his own. He is kind and considerate, loyal, and always adapting and changing to fit this ever-changing world.
My relationship with my partner improved as well. It is hard to trust someone again after an affair, but we chose to stay together and work on it. When he finally gave up the bottle, we spent more time together as a family—as you can see from some of my blog posts—than ever before. He is nicer to me and treats me better, and vice-versa. We have come to be a family, not perfect, but the road to recovery is never easy. This past Christmas was one of the best we ever spent together, so good in fact that I had to write about it on my blog.
In February of 2015, I got a call from the lawyer’s office. There was a settlement offer and the lawyer had accepted it. It was finally over. Almost eight years caught in a whirlwind and I was finally free of it. There are no words to describe how I felt. It was not a great amount of money, but it got our debt paid. We were no longer in the red.
As for my injuries…things will never be the same, but I have managed to get myself off all the drugs, except for an occasional Advil. My back and hip still bother me, along with my shoulder and foot, but I have learned to live with it and have learned how to cope. The life I once knew is gone. It took a long time to accept. I no longer go to the physiotherapy clinic, but I do attend a healing clinic that my friend opened up last year. I have learned how to meditate and exercise every day. I am hopeful that I will soon be ready to try to enter the work force again, if only on a part-time basis. Right now, I attend to my blog, take care of my family, and most importantly, take care of myself. I am trying to get better with my writing and am working on a novel, but it is hard, especially since I cannot sit as long as I want to.
The one thing that still keeps me awake at night is: why? Why did this happen to me? What purpose did it serve? So many things happened as a result of it, like a chain reaction, just one bad thing after another. Some people say that you have to go through bad things to get to some place better, and maybe that’s what it was, but who can say for sure? It’s all a mystery, and I guess a mystery it will remain, at least for now.
To the follower who wrote me and prompted me to write a final part for that blog post I wrote last August, thanks for inquiring, and I hope that you never ever go through such an ordeal.
Thanks for reading, thanks for following. God bless.