For treatment, most of it was provided by residents of the First Nation. The physiotherapy was not provided by a regulated physiotherapist, but rather by a woman acquainted with such techniques. Ice was the only treatment for Gwen’s joints: up to four hours per day until the swelling decreased. Any psychological issues or neurological deficiency were addressed in one visit by a resident that the First Nation considered to be a specialist. None of this was wholly documented. Perhaps these persons were involved to keep costs payable by the community medical plan to a minimum; or perhaps they truly believed in their skills. So much of the provision of treatment was also very basic because of the limited funds from the federal government. Then of course there was the perpetual argument between federal and provincial departments on the provision of health care. Same is a provincial mandate, yet it is the federal government that provides funding for the operation of each reserve. That scenario did not help Gwen.
An occupational therapist was assigned by the law firm. Funding was not an issue as the office was willing to absorb the cost if the insurer balked at payment. Someone had to be involved to assist the girl and prepare an objective and detailed report. The paperless world was not helping Gwen.
The occupational therapist called our office three days after her assignment. Although she had called the Thomas family immediately, there was no cooperation. It was true Gwen had to attend school or the family had to do shopping, but the perception was quickly discernible that Thomas would not make the girl available for any appointment. Was she protective or defensive? Either argument could have been made. An idea in our office became a plan, and then a reality for me to visit the injured girl and her parental guardian, under the guise that we needed Thomas’s signed consent forms.
Three days were planned and the motel accommodations were arranged. The occupational therapist struck me as a person most keenly interested in the patient. In the larger cities, the competition for business always seemed to create the perception that business interests preceded those of the injured persons. Though this all sounds somewhat terse, the reality of the industry involved in the provision of care is such that the injured person is not always to all persons the primary concern.
Geoffrey’s suggestion to us, that the condition of the Thomas residence was better than most, prepared me to believe that Gwen was fortunate to have such amenities. Whatever thoughts I may have had before our vehicle pulled into the driveway were immediately dispelled upon viewing the premises. Information twisted my mind even further. “How can this be?” The question demanding a reply echoed in my mind throughout the visit.
The house was a wood structure with some aluminum siding around the back, on one side, and on the lower portion of the front wall. The single pane windows were wood frame. The shingles were starting to curl. There was no eavestrough. The driveway was not smooth, basically gravel covering a culvert and winding from the side of the house to some unseen venue in the rear.
Thomas was clearly not ready for our visit as we came unannounced. Her attire conveyed a nonchalant attitude toward life. That was a quick conclusion. She was reluctant to open the door at first. I quickly addressed the need to have the forms signed. She hesitated, telling us she wanted to confer with tribal council. We stressed our need and ten minutes later she started to sign the documents on behalf of Gwen. Writing, even just her signature, was not her forte.
After she offered us coffee, she encountered difficulty remembering where she put the instant coffee. Similarly, it took time to find the powdered milk. I was not looking forward to the beverage.
Once the forms were signed, Mrs. Thomas became most talkative providing ample details of Gwen’s initial injuries, her treatment, and present restrictions. She talked mainly in terms of the limitations rather than Gwen’s abilities or daily activities. Such verse always prompted me to think that repeating details of injuries and limitations was an attempt to concentrate on a personal agenda. Did Thomas think she was going to get rich from this accident?
The need to go to the washroom was an automatic response to the coffee. Shock was absolute! She had described running water. The toilet was a commode over a hole in the plywood floor. There was no seat, and it was not connected to any plumbing system. It stunk as any outhouse would, perhaps less in winter than in mid-summer.
It was pointed out to me that there were also bathroom facilities in a wooden outhouse. This was on an incline behind the house. Between the structures a small two-foot wide stream flowed from the hill to the ditch at the start of the driveway.
The curtain in Gwen’s bedroom was a blanket nailed to the wall. The occupational therapist looked inside the one drawer provided for Gwen, viewing the girl’s personal clothes.
Later she described them as basic rags. We were told with a sense of pride that the community was assisting Mr. Thomas and helping Gwen. Eventually she responded to my queries by advising that “They’re good people.”
Questions about the family residence produced nothing positive. We were told that some items were removed as they could be used by others in the First Nation. We sensed that was her opinion on the inevitability of sharing.
After her son arrived, she asked him to get some water for supper. He picked up a tin pail. It did not appear to be overly clean. Thomas had running water in the kitchen; but for whatever reason, water from the stream was preferred. I watched as he went outside and filled the bucket from the same stream that was down the slope from the outhouse. That was enough for me.
Geoffrey was not available the next day, and the occupational therapist turned her attention to other clients. In the afternoon I returned, again unannounced, to the Thomas residence. It took time but eventually she understood the full purpose of our involvement and the reasonable expectations thereof. After the children returned from school, the offer was gladly received for supper in the mall. That it was about seventeen miles away provided another opportunity for discussion and acquaintance. The trust and faith of the children far exceeded that of their mother. In the course of the late afternoon and evening it was becoming very difficult to control my emotions. “Garbage makes them happy!” Though very crude, my mind could not escape the thought. “How can that be so? Has the press been lying to us? Why?” The last phrase constantly repeated itself while I tried as best as possible to appreciate their smiles. The most mundane events brought such joy to those children. It was equally impossible to escape the conclusion that our governments had been lying to us all these years about conditions and expectations, about their health care and education. “There but for the grace of God . . .” I concluded my prayer that night, thankful that there was at least an opportunity to assist.
If there was any one particular incident or issue that angered me most, it was not the bucket of polluted water, the lack of basic clothing, the lack of washroom plumbing, the lack of reasonable health care, the broken down school bus, the school portable with holes and rats or the lack of nutritious food—these were all important—but Gwen’s wandering left eye.
There was definitely a neurological injury affecting her vision. There were facial injuries beyond the bruising that was first identified.
The discussion with Geoffrey was promising to shed more light on the situation with the hope that he could suggest medical experts that might not dismiss the injuries and impairment. As was the case in other sectors of society, such professionals would of course want to have the guarantee of prompt payment. Our own finances were limited. Any budget we had considered was already expended. The insurance company would have to be totally on board. There rested a major hurdle. Everything had been done through the First Nation and its medical benefits, such that the auto insurer had paid almost nothing in those first five months. To suddenly suggest that the child had a brain injury or vision problems or was catastrophically impaired in February 2004 would be confronting a brick wall. That meeting with Geoffrey ended after research and his recommendation f
or a case manager. She was a respected occupational therapist who was known to have, in the past, done work for that insurance company. The firm would be hard pressed to suddenly deny her expertise.
That assignment and the meeting with the case manager took place the next afternoon. Authorization forms were also provided. Thereafter I completed the five-hour return trip to the office.
Denials of treatment recommendations were inevitable. So much was in dispute and the insurance company was determined to go to mediation. In spite of the automobile insurer’s arrogance, the service providers continued with treatment fully aware they would not received immediate payment.
Gwen’s visions problems did not entirely resolve. However, she had continuing care and appropriate glasses. School marks and enthusiasm for life also improved. Her fears remained a stumbling block. Automobile transportation was so essential to get anywhere on the reserve or to leave the native community. All of her fears inside a vehicle were never totally vanquished. She remained timid, and at times very tearful. The passage of time did heal some of the emotional wounds. She rapidly matured after that first year. Everything she had experienced and all of her treatment provided emotional and spiritual parameters that proved to be of substantial benefit. She was taught to let go of the past as much as she could, and took that counsel seriously.
The case manager’s report, after that first meeting stung the insurance company. Major renovations were recommended for the Thomas house for plumbing, heating and insulation. When those were rejected, efforts were made in conjunction with the interests of the Council to have Mrs. Thomas and her children move into Gwen’s prior residence. Although the house had already been rented to others, adequate arrangements were made to have the house released to Thomas. Still, the litigation continued to assert the young lady’s right to the cost of the renovations.
We expended great effort with statistics concerning employment and expectations. Both parents had been gainfully employed. The figures showed that such a foundation generally prompted children to pursue similar employment expectations. That claim was very significant.
Perhaps government officials were embarrassed by conditions on that reserve pertinent to health, education, plumbing and basic living. Schools received the initial funding. Portables were replaced by a brick extension to the main school building. School buses no longer broke down. Other buses would take patients to medical clinics on and off the reserve. Other improvements started to happen, albeit three years later, granting those residents a better way of life.
In 2010, the settlement mediation took place. Gwen looked almost angelic with her cultured style, mature appearance, bright floral dress, and black hair. She wore a green feather in her hair—a gift from her pet, reminding everyone of her parents’ love of nature. The favourable result guaranteed the young lady and her guardian sufficient funds in a structured settlement to provide treatment, care and support well into the future. Gwen’s parents were remembered with a monument at their cemetery.
For the sake of the child’s privacy and to protect the integrity of the First Nation, it is again reminded that names have been altered to respect those involved.
Gwen’s plight ultimately brought so many improvements to so many aspects of her life and fundamental conditions in the community. Her struggle will be remembered while her success in life brightens the morning sunrise.
2005
LORIEN
“Non-descript” he preferred to call himself and accordingly chose to sit alone. Even though the assembly of more than several hundred lawyers occupied rows and tables around him, they couldn’t encroach upon his domain.
His facial expression was attentive. The tuft on his chin suggested his age in the mid-thirties. His dark plaid suit conveyed a serious intent. His binder was open before him with several pens and his reliable note pad to the side. His satchel he had placed conveniently under the table. When others rose during the break to replenish their coffee, he just sat waiting for the next speaker.
This was the third time Lorien attended the Trial Lawyers’ Conference. On prior occasions he too sat by himself. It wasn’t in any way an attempt to avoid interruptions. He was there to learn from the expertise being shared by his colleagues. He valued the speakers’ knowledge as all of the other lawyers claimed they did. However, he was far more earnest than most in that regard.
Lorien’s office was more than four hours north of the city. Attending such a convention demanded his utmost commitment. Being a sole lawyer in a small office, with a clientele that could in a moment’s notice potentially exceed several thousand, provided little time for personal convenience. Family life was once considered but never finalized.
He had already noted that many paralegals were in attendance. “If only I could afford one,” he surmised. Lorien’s clients were not all able to pay his services. The Legal Aid Program provided pittance for which a lawyer had to wait an eternity. He felt that was most unfair as the entire program seemed to hinder those who needed the assistance the most.
Lorien did not have a particular expertise. He was involved in property transactions and matrimonial disputes far more than civil litigation. Still, he knew one day that any knowledge he took from this convention would assist his practice.
I attended these conferences previously, always staying close to the select few from our office. The fact that our firm expected its employees to stay together throughout such events seemed to defeat one of the purposes of the convention. Rather than meeting new people, or being introduced to other lawyers; the company wanted to convey a level of unity among its ranks—even though most of the employees wanted to get away from their coworkers. This was the first time I saw the solitary gentleman. His profile suggested he was a distinguished gentleman. Having chosen not to have a third cup of coffee, I wandered over to his table to introduce myself. There was no smile, just an earnest expression.
After the initial exchange, Lorien controlled the conversation, asking more questions following each reply. That I was only a paralegal intrigued him most in terms of my tasks and authority. Clearly he was looking for assistance in his office. When he mentioned the location of his practice, my surprise was immediate. I always had difficulty hiding my feelings. When the next speaker took the podium, I returned to my group of coworkers where they were still patting each other on their backs.
For supper, our office got together in this rather posh restaurant. Following that, we were on our own. Always appreciating the chance for an evening swim before bed, I headed to the pool. There I met Lorien. He was seated in the corner of the room, clearly displaying a broad smile while enjoying the laughter of several children and their parents. Such gaiety I too always found desirable as we were in an industry plagued by excessive complaints. No one ever seemed satisfied. Laughter was always the best tonic for the weary office worker.
During the conversation he encroached upon business. I didn’t mind. He asked me about wrongful dismissal litigation and what I thought about his case. His client was a cleaner with a native casino who thoroughly enjoyed his job although most aspects of it were rather bland. Then the provincial government moved in taking control of the native casino, and Lorien’s client lost his job.
The native community objected to the dismissal of its tribal member. It was just too abrupt. “Two weeks’ notice,” the pink slip said. However, in spite of the prospect of any sense, he was ushered to the door with just enough time to grab his cloak. He did receive the semi-monthly pay but that was it. He had no benefits and no medical plan. He was destitute. The reserve assisted as much as it could, concluding every meeting with expressions of enthusiasm. Paraphrased, they said, “Don’t expect anything more.” Lorien believed the chief had worked out a lucrative deal to benefit members of his council. He admitted he couldn’t prove it, but determinedly noted that he couldn’t understand the lack of effort by tribal council to protect the native jobs or why it just handed
such a lucrative enterprise over to the government.
We spoke about this and other matters, ending with my pledge to request the advice from one of our firm’s lawyers. They spoke the next morning before the conference reconvened. During a break, Lorien expressed his sincere gratitude and we once again exchanged business cards.
Four months later, in early February of 2006, Lorien called me. I was surprised, but felt very honoured that he would respect my knowledge and ability enough to ask for advice. His request was sincere because he was being twisted in circles by the experts and disputing lawyers. This always happens: exaggerating information with various concepts and possibilities to further the interest of one’s client. However, in this case, he was confronting aspects that were hastily becoming brick walls.
Lorien’s client, a native from his local community, had been asked by a former associate to assist at a project in a native community in rural Vermont. He was a welder by trade, but had skills in masonry work, particularly foundations. He also possessed the skill to operate a backhoe and other equipment. His client, because of the shortage of motel accommodation, was forced to stay in a rented trailer. That unit was equipped with a sizable water tank, and a generator. Meals were cooked on a kerosene-stove outside under a canopy. One night in the late fall of 2003, while he was sleeping, the trailer exploded. Lorien’s client was rushed to hospital with second degree burns.
The hospital and medical bills in the States were extensive. Being a native from Ontario visiting Vermont, he didn’t have any medical coverage. After much haggling, the provincial health plan did pick up the tab for the hospital bill. However, the cost of continuing care was becoming outrageous with the additional expense of increasing interest. There was no workers’ compensation coverage.
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