It’s almost funny now. The Virginia State Bar. A judge. Opposing counsel. Even newly assigned defense attorneys. They’ve all leaned on the same dismissive line: “She’s confused.” Apparently, asking for basic decency and legal rights qualifies as confusion. What They Call Confusion If you suffer a psychological injury on the job, why wouldn’t  you expect access to the award-winning physician wellness services your employer proudly advertises? Why threaten instead of treat? Why

When a junior attorney told me, “Nobody cares,”  I realized I was standing at a fork in the road. Money—or silence. I expected the call to be tough. What I didn’t expect was how much it would sting. This wasn’t an intake coordinator brushing me off. This was one of the attorneys—junior, yes, but speaking on behalf of a nationally known firm. The partners had reviewed my case. The name on the door had reviewed my case. They had sued my employer before. They knew the patterns.

From ADA violations to taxpayer waste, Virginia keeps daring someone to hold it accountable. When the Real Housewives line “Who’s gonna check me, boo?”  first hit TV, it was shade — a reminder of who held power in the room. But the more I dig into Virginia’s record on disability rights, the more I realize that’s exactly how the Commonwealth operates. Every time the ADA comes knocking. Every time a person with a disability asks for something basic. Every time taxpayers demand

In everyday life, the rules are simple. If you say something that’s factually untrue — and you know it’s untrue — that’s a lie. But in the courtroom? Different rules apply. The Language Game I’ve been representing myself pro se  against a powerful institution. In that process, opposing counsel filed statements that were, by any ordinary definition, false. Not debatable. Not opinion. Factually untrue and provably so. Out in the real world, we’d call that what it is: lying. But

Medicine has been the central part of my identity for nearly my entire adult life. I’ve never had a season when I wasn’t working, when I wasn’t practicing, when I wasn’t caring for patients. Healing wasn’t just my career — it was my calling. Then I spoke up about patient safety. And retaliation followed. I was forced onto leave I didn’t ask for and didn’t want. My ability to practice medicine — the very thing that gave my life meaning — was taken from me. The people who reta

Most people think of an insurance denial as a single moment — a letter saying, “We won’t pay.” But what I’ve learned is this: The denial is just the opening move. The real  corporate strategy is to drag things out until you run out of money, run out of energy, or run out of hope. The Corporate Playbook 1. Deny, Delay, Defend First, benefits are denied. Then payments become inconsistent, or vanish entirely. The injured person is thrown into financial and emotional chaos. 2. Ex

Sometimes it feels overwhelming when people celebrate me for my advocacy work. The truth is, this was never the role I wanted for myself. I was content being a physician. I loved taking care of patients — that was my joy. Every visit, every phone call, every telemedicine appointment fed me. Patients thought I was helping them, but in reality, they were giving me life. When that was taken from me — after I spoke up about patient safety and was forced onto unwanted leave — it w

Trigger warning: discussion of workplace trauma, retaliation, and bureaucratic harm. Most people don’t celebrate becoming “unemployed. ”But for me, this week, it felt like a small miracle. After surviving a near workplace-violence incident, I asked for the most basic protection any worker should expect: a safe setting to do my job. Instead of accommodations, I was boxed out. I wasn’t allowed to work for the hospital where I was under contract. I wasn’t allowed to work anywher

When you’re retaliated against at work — when you have the evidence, the timeline, the documentation, and the truth — you think the next step is obvious: I just need an attorney. That’s the lie we all believe at first: that justice is accessible, that there’s a roadmap, that if you do everything “right,” help will appear. But here’s what actually happens. You Start Calling for Help — and Nobody Calls Back You start making calls. Endless calls. Intake lines. Gatekeepers. Voice

It wouldn’t have taken lawsuits, complaints, and social media campaigns. It wouldn’t have taken dragging through portals, regulators, and multiple courts. It wouldn’t have taken TikToks, Medium blogs, LinkedIn posts, and cartoons just to be heard. And that’s the whole point. What I Would Have Done If I were the CEO of Sun Life, this entire ordeal would have ended with a single phone call . A call to say: “ We’re sorry. We mishandled your claim. We recognize the harm.” A cal

After suffering retaliation, erasure, isolation, and having the very identity I built over my entire adult life stripped away — being a physician, being someone who takes care of people — I reached the lowest emotional point I’ve ever known. And when you are trying to survive something like that, you learn a hard truth: The old version of you cannot survive here. The Old Me Wouldn’t Have Made It The old me — the people-pleaser, the one who said yes when she wanted to say no,

📰 Silenced Twice: How Media, Press Releases, and Social Platforms Protect Institutions Instead of Patients When you’re fighting a system that’s denying you care, benefits, or basic dignity, you think the hardest part will be the corporation itself. You imagine once the truth is out, the world will see. But what you don’t expect is to be silenced all over again  — by the very systems that are supposed to give you a voice. ⚖️ The Stories That Don’t Get Covered Mainstream journ

⚖️ Why This Case Matters   When I filed this case, it wasn’t about personal vindication — it was about access . Access to justice. Access to due process. Access to equal participation under the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) . The Virginia Workers’ Compensation Commission (VWC) is an independent state agency  that impacts thousands of disabled workers each year. Yet, like many “independent” bodies, it operates without meaningful oversight  when it comes to ADA complian

🔊 Because Silence Protects Systems, Not People People often ask me why I name names — why I call out institutions  and individuals  when I talk about retaliation, denial, and systemic harm. The answer is simple: Because if we keep everything vague, nothing changes. You can’t fix what you won’t name. You can’t hold accountable what stays hidden. And you can’t expect a culture of safety when everyone is afraid to say who caused the harm. Why I Name Names ⚖️ Accountability Is

🩺 It Was Supposed to Be the Dream I told you in the last video about my vision—about coming to Hampton Roads to bring neurological care to a community that needed it most. It should have been one of the happiest chapters of my career. But what I walked into wasn’t a clinic. I t was a crisis waiting to happen. Phone calls weren’t being answered. Portal messages went ignored. And when I started seeing follow-up patients, I discovered that prescriptions, referrals, and orders

⚖️ When Accessibility Isn’t Accessible After my disability claim was denied — and after I was denied ADA accommodations  — I learned firsthand how deeply the Virginia Workers’ Compensation Commission  and other independent agencies fail people with disabilities. These systems are supposed to protect workers. Instead, they bury accessibility under bureaucracy. Most people can’t afford to fight back. And that’s exactly what these systems count on. Why I Filed a Federal ADA Inju

⚡ They Thought They Had Me Trapped   Sun Life thought they had me cornered. They denied my accommodations , blocked my return to work , and at the same time told federal court  I was “fit to work”  so they wouldn’t have to pay disability. Their goal was clear: Destabilize me financially. Break me emotionally. Keep me too weak to fight back. But here’s the irony— their retaliation forced me to get stronger. 🧘🏽‍♀️ Rebuilding From the Rubble I wasn’t going to starve for Sun Li

🧠 The Email That Brought It All Back   Most people wouldn’t imagine that an email from a corporate attorney — polite, professional, full of “availability to talk” — could trigger PTSD. But when you’ve been through what I’ve been through, the surface politeness doesn’t matter. When he pressed me again and again — even after I asked him to stop  — it threw me straight back into the vulnerable place I fought so hard to climb out of. I was back in that powerless state  — like wh

🎙️ What I Couldn’t Control  I couldn’t stop them. I couldn’t undo the harm. I couldn’t control the corporate actors who retaliated  against me or the attorney who wouldn’t stay out of my inbox. But I could do one thing. That realization is what pulled me out of the spiral  this weekend. I had finally reached a point where I was trying to return to my life  — to keep healing, to focus on my IOP treatment , to breathe again. When Sun Life  finally agreed to pay the disability

⚖️ The Court of Public Opinion When this all started, I thought the fight would be in court. I thought judges would listen. Regulators would intervene. Lawyers would see the merit. Politicians would care. I was wrong. Courts hid behind procedure. Regulators pushed papers and sent form letters. Lawyers chased fees  and told me I wasn’t “worth it.” Politicians gave speeches about “workers” and “rights,” but none of them wanted to stand behind a real person when things got messy