Why Demanding Claims Intimidates Me

I cannot help but cringe whenever I recollect the time I filed medical negligence claims in the past. After undergoing spinal surgery at one hospital I will not name here, I discovered that my spine, far from returning to normal, became worse. Before the operation I only felt minor tingles at my lower back which occasionally swelled into fits of painful bursts. After the operation, those bursts never ceased. They exploded at some dark region above my posterior and electrified my entire body. It was unbearable. I was unable to do what most people my age could still do, such as walking, bending over, sitting upright, and even taking a bath.

So I called up a lawyer and filed medical negligence claims. They went all right and I received a laudable amount of compensation in return. But what pain! What sacrifices! In order to make my claims meritorious, I had to recollect and divulge to my doctor all the details concerning my surgery, even the private ones. I had to inform him that my back problem was intermittent and began when I first made love. I had to inform him that I tried asking different surgeons about it and nobody among them could explain my condition. I had to inform him that this particular doctor which made my condition worse promised me that he could cure me if only I paid him a generous advance, which I did. I had to inform him that he must win my claim because the advance I gave was supposed to be spent on my children’s college tuition. What a nerve-wracking experience.

If ever you might blame me for acting haphazardly, then I beseech you first to place yourself in my position, living a life under the constant dread of suffering from lightning jolt attacks emanating from your back that flowed into the rest of your body, crushing and trampling every sensory receptor, ramming and ramming its burning pikes of horror until you succumb to the pain and devolve into an inert being, a pathetic and immobile wreck, the victim of torpor, the prisoner of a disease nobody knows how to cure, crushed under the ruins of an existence no longer tenable, in which the advent of death, far from arousing fear, stimulates instead sentiments of joy, respite, liberation, and other great expectations.