Just hit the proverbial brick wall ... and I'm not sure what to do about it ... .

On Wednesday Dorian and I met with the orthopedist who was assigned to do an evaluation for the pending litigation having to do with her 11/27/2009 auto/pedestrian accident.  I'm not sure what I expected, due to the fact that the only experience I've had over a lifetime having to do with attorneys had to do with my divorce which was amicable.  It seemed logical to follow the advice of those professionally involved in such matters, and there were certainly enough existing records to draw from and the only confirmation of claims lay with examination of the one involved; Dorian.  I could be of little help in this matter except as support for her, but only if needed.

I waited until about two days before to tell her about the two appointments (Wednesday orthopedic, and Wednesday, psychological) so that she would not be needlessly apprehensive.  The truth as she could recall it and whatever impressions they could illicit through their meeting with her was really all she needed to provide.  Ten years of marriage to a psychologist had perhaps prepared her mother, so it felt about right.  I picked her up from her apartment on Tuesday night so that we would be ready for the drive to San Francisco early in the morning.  She asked few questions, and seemed comfortable with the arrangements.  On the drive over in heavy commute traffic, she was in charge of the GPS system and aided the robotic voice by repeating the prompts at each highway change.

Wednesday went well.  The physician was warm and welcoming, and seemed well-prepared to receive her.  In about 4 hours we were on our way home, and the only threat was the drive across the S.F./Oakland Bay bridge, which we navigated successfully (this had been the only threat I've felt in the days leading up to these appointments).

Yesterday's appointment turned out to have some hidden landmines:

The psychologist let us know -- even before we left the reception room to enter his inner office  -- that this session would last for at least 7 hours!  (He told us, as an aside, that the procedure normally takes 8 hours, but that we were starting an hour later than usual in order to accommodate our wishes.)  We'd had no warning of this, and my minimal preparation of Dorian provided no hint of what this might entail.  Actually, she's never  undergone such intensive testing before in her life, so neither of us knew what this meant.  It also meant that I'd not come prepared with a book to read or crossword puzzles to solve, and would be forced to do something completely foreign -- sit and think for 7 whole hours --uninterrupted!  This is called "hitting the wall," and it would prove to be sobering, indeed.


But now I have to leave for work, and the revelations brought on by my enforced stoppage will have to wait until I get home this evening ... but I think the insights were profound;  maybe even life-altering.

More later,