With each passing day, I pieced together more of the puzzle. I scheduled a meeting with a medical social worker to discuss my concerns. The appointment was set for Monday morning, providing me a weekend to prepare.

Over those few days, I combed through every document I had, highlighting inconsistencies and noting down any questions. I felt both determined and apprehensive, unsure of what Monday would reveal.

When the day arrived, I entered the office, my nerves taut. The social worker, Ms. Lee, greeted me warmly, her demeanor both professional and empathetic.

“I’m here to help you navigate these concerns,” she said, offering a reassuring smile.

As we delved into the details, I explained what I had discovered. Ms. Lee listened intently, occasionally jotting down notes. Her questions were pointed, helping me better articulate my worries.

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