That Proverbial Bull

I'm more than a little apprehensive about my ortho doctor visit tomorrow. I'm in the middle of gathering documents and practicing my questions for him and my little speech. If he continues to stall on writing the letter in support of my work comp case until the deadline passes, I'm pretty much screwed. My case has no legs. He agreed to do this last October and despite numerous phone calls, emails and letters, from me as well as my lawyer, he has yet to follow through. Being a stubborn, pro-active sort of girl I have run out of patience. This is my life, my health, and my opportunity to start over hanging in the balance. So without my lawyer's knowledge I acted on my own and made an appointment to see the ortho doctor one more time. He treated me for nearly a year and is the doc most familiar with my case. He also seemed genuinely interested in finding a correct diagnosis and developing treatment plan based on it. Between him and my nurse case manager, they got testing approved and scheduled and numerous maladies were ruled out. He did surgery on my right wrist to free up the tendons that operate the thumb. I trusted him. But for two years I have been left dangling in this purgatory where insurance paper pushers, my former employer, and doctors who made some serious bucks after glancing over my gargantuan medical files and performing a brief examination get to make decisions affecting my life with no regard or interest in whether I can or will ever get well after my workplace accident. So hello, Mr. Bull. Yes, those are your horns clenched in my pitiful grasp, but it's the best I can manage. Let's get down to business, shall we? Because if there is no one who will advocate for me, it falls to me to advocate for myself.