Remember last year when my brains had a quickie with some concrete? Well, we are coming up on the one year anniversary. And muthas STILL have not paid for my medical bills.

Lemme back up.

Immediately after it happened, homeslice at the store apologized profusely. He said “wow I had no idea there was so much ice back there!”

And then I came back in a few days later and he gave me some free phones.

And then I told him that I would be sending my medical bills to the store, and he didn’t say anything about that. I explained that I had no plan on taking advantage of the situation, but that I shouldn’t have to pay what was likely to be a hefty pile of medical bills just because they couldn’t put down some freaking kitty litter.

So I figured I probably needed a lawyer. I picked one out of the phone book. Cuz that’s how I roll, apparently.

The lawyer did whatever lawyers do, and folks pointed fingers, and I answered the same questions 400 times about the fall. Their insurance company called me, my insurance company called me, probably your insurance called me, too. I told the story a LOT.

Everyone told my lawyer why it isn’t THEIR fault, and pointed fingers at each other. The store’s insurance says the subcontractor who was hired to clear ice should be responsible. The “subcontractor” is just a lawn dude who needed winter work, and says the land owner should pay. The land owner says the store, as a renter, should pay.

Still, a year later, I am paying on my 20% of that bill– an amount that has four digits and cost more than bringing any of my children into the world.

I have been offered a “settlement” by the store’s insurance that is about 1/3 of the medical costs. Because of the nature of my pwn health insurance, that money would just go to them to cover the 80% their paid first.  It wouldn’t touch my part. Or the lawyer’s costs.

The insurance companies have done everything from accuse me to “just tripping and trying to make a buck” to denying that there was any ice to fall on (tell that to the ambulance drivers who also slipped on the ice while pushing me out on a stretcher.) They have blamed me for wearing “inappropriate footwear” (I was wearing snow boots), and for not watching where I was going (yeah, didn’t see that CLEAR ICE there fuckwad.)

I tried to do the right thing– all I wanted was for them to pay what they should have paid for not taking care of their property. They are damn lucky that my son wasn’t injured.

I can see that their ploy is to make this whole thing so ugly, so cumbersome, so laborious that I give up and just pay for it.

But they don’t know me.

Not at all.

They don’t know that every time my son sees an ambulance, a fire truck, or that store, A YEAR LATER, he says, “Mommy ride in wee-woo (ambulance.)  Fall down. You cwying. Go doctor.” Every time I have to reassure him that I am alright, that it was a good thing the ambulance came, and I remind him how kind everyone was. I point out the stuffed animal they gave him during the ride to the hospital.

They don’t know I dreamed about the fall constantly for over six months. In my dreams, I saw my baby, sailing in an arc across the parking lot. . My subconscious carried out the worst case scenarios– what if I had lost consciousness, what if I had died, what if he had been the one to hit his head, what if…

They don’t know that useless bureaucracy is a pet peeve of mine, and I am sure as hell not going to let my family do without just so their fucking insurance premiums don’t go up.

Nope. They don’t know me at all.

I hate how litigious we have become as a society– but I totally get it, now. If that’s the only way that things can get done, that people will Do The Right Thing, then I guess 2012 will be The Year Of Filing Suit for Chez Pair.

Bleeeeecccccchhhhh.