Change has never been easy for me.
I’ve been married for 20 years. I’ve dated my husband since high school. I’ve had the same phone number for 23 years. I’m loyal to people, to brands, to systems that work.
Why does this matter? Because it underscores just how much trust I put into relationships and how deeply I grieve when that trust is broken.
For the past eight years, I’ve been with Kaiser Permanente. For much of that time, I was proud to be in your network. I had the best primary care physician, and one of the most compassionate electrophysiologists a patient could ask for.
But the past eight weeks have changed everything.
A Nightmare No One Prepared Me For
Eight weeks ago, I underwent surgery. Since then, my life has become unrecognizable. The pain is unrelenting. The trauma of being aware during surgery haunts me in my sleep. And my symptoms the pain, weight loss, infections, and fear remain unanswered.
Despite Kaiser’s lack of an in-network specialist who can address my case, I’ve been met with silence and red tape in my attempts to get a second opinion. Every test, every referral, every moment of being believed has been a battle.
Pain management has been dismissed not because I don’t need it, but out of fear. Of liability. Of dependency. Of something that isn’t me.
Even basic requests like checking whether my body was permanently damaged are met with bureaucratic hurdles.
And so I’m left with this quiet, burning question:
What do I do?
Do I sue? Do I fight?
Do I cry?
Do I give up and die?
The Crowd Spoke And They Confirmed My Fears
In my search for clarity, I asked my community four questions:
- How often do you change health insurance companies?
- How happy are you with your current provider?
- Who is your current provider?
- Do you have a chronic illness? If so, is it being properly managed?
Out of 749,106 people, 689,049 responded.
And their answers were both validating and heartbreaking.
Those with chronic conditions insured through Kaiser shared stories that mirrored mine:
- Unmet needs
- Delayed care
- A lack of specialized support especially in rheumatology and gastroenterology
- A system that felt rigid, dismissive, and unable to adapt
In contrast, others especially those with BCBS or Ambetter shared how they pivoted when they needed to. Some even found alternative routes through concierge care. The common thread? They were heard.
It’s Time to Let Go
And so here I am. Standing at the edge of something that once felt like safety.
Leaving Kaiser isn’t easy. I’m grieving.
I’m terrified to lose the two doctors I would go to war for.
I’ll miss the simplicity of having everything under one roof.
But how can I stay in a system that leaves me questioning not only my health… but my sanity?
What good is familiarity if it costs you your life?
This Isn’t Rage—It’s Grief
I grieve the life I had before this surgery.
I grieve the trust I once had in a healthcare system that promised to care for me.
And I grieve what I now must walk away from in order to survive.
They say insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, expecting a different result.
But leaving what’s familiar? That feels equally impossible.
Still, I can’t ignore what I know now.
I am scared for my life.
I am scared for my children.
And I know this: staying in a system that won’t fight for me might cost me everything.
I Need Care. I Need Answers. I Need Hope.
This isn’t about resentment. It’s about survival.
I will always be grateful for the good years. But I can no longer afford to stay.
Not when the pain goes unanswered.
Not when the suffering is ignored.
Not when the stakes are this high.
Sincerely,
A former patient who believed you’d always show up
Until you didn’t.
