She sits across from me, only a coffee table with Tarot cards between us. As she speaks, I sit motionless, afraid to interrupt her thoughts, answering only in the briefest of terms so as not to be leading in any way. Society has conditioned us to be skeptical of anything other than cold, hard fact. But I have a burning need to know what happened to me on that fateful day.
Insurance companies suck. Anyone disagree? No? Good, let's continue. They want you to die, don't they? Okay, maybe that seems a little harsh, but that's what it feels like to me every time I hear the word "denied." I'm sure by the end of this post, if you put yourself in my shoes, you'll feel the same way.