MY DAUGHTER DESPERATELY NEEDS BRAIN SURGERY

I was packing the day before our flight when the phone call came. I had a stack of Natalie’s pajamas — the soft ones, cut low enough to sit below her hard cervical collar — a bag of medications for her carry-on, and comfortable clothes for her to wear during the five or six weeks we’d be staying in the Ronald McDonald House while she recovered from surgery. She’d offered to help, and she’d tried, but it had only taken two attempts at standing in front of her closet before the headache and the nausea and the dizziness took over, before her vision had narrowed to a pinprick and she had to lie back down. She was giving me directions from bed when the phone rang.



Her surgery was canceled, the hospital said. The insurance company had denied their request for coverage of the surgery, and then denied my written appeal and ignored the letters from multiple surgeons and her specialist. She could find comparable local care in Seattle, the insurance company said, and there was no need to travel out of state for care.