In October 2024, I learned that I would be undergoing open-heart surgery in 2025. It was unfortunate, but I had to go through with it in order to continue living, at least for a little while longer… Wanting to be considerate, and well aware of all the little administrative problems that such a situation can cause, I quickly contacted my employer to let them know. From the outset, I understood that I was dealing with a three-headed machine consisting of my employer, my insurer, and Employment Canada. From the outset, the three of them bombarded me with forms and requirements that would fuel a whole bureaucratic saga of disability. I wrote to one, called the other, and had to wait for certain deadlines. The result? I was admitted to the hospital without the problem being resolved. I called my employer from my hospital bed, then Employment Canada. I spent hours on the phone, having to cut off conversations to make way for doctors and nurses, which meant I had to call back several times and start the process all over again. Yet both form machines have the doctor’s note saying that I have to be off work for at least three months and all the forms filled out. I’m going to be cut open, is it possible to have peace of mind? No! Finally, after several attempts, the two opaque entities ended up communicating! It was about time. So now I can rest and focus on the ordeal ahead. Not quite… I have to file reports every two weeks with Employment Canada. Yes, but… I don’t know how long I’ll be unconscious, what kind of lucidity I’ll have after the surgery, I can’t guarantee that the first report will be filed on time. Nothing is settled, and the cutting up of my body is coming. On the scheduled date, I lie down on the operating table and fall asleep after a few minutes. I open my eyes after what seems like a moment and see the smiling face of my sweetheart, more loving than ever. I close my eyes, tired, and fall asleep. I am woken up and bombarded with questions: What date is it? Where are you? How many children do you have? The only question I can answer correctly is the one asking me my sweetheart’s first name. I am confused, and there are concerns about my cognitive health. If that weren’t enough, the medication given during the operation is making me paranoid.  The report I have to file with Employment Canada in all this? I’m in no condition to do it. If only it could have been taken care of before… Of course, we can’t get any money until the first report has been filed. It’ll have to wait… After a week of remission, I leave intensive care. In my new room, I have a phone and can call Employment Canada to make my first report. I call, press the buttons to answer the questions. After almost an hour of going through the same voicemail and robot responses, I finally speak to an agent who allows me to make the report over the phone with him. I begin to make my mandatory claims. For two months, things go pretty well. Then I have to consider a gradual return to work. My employer asks for another doctor’s note, which I provide. However, I receive a very unpleasant phone call from the HR lady. She is being difficult about the dates on the notes. I explain that the two documents should be seen as complementary. She insists that the most recent note cancels out the previous one. Due to a difference in interpretation, our long and unpleasant discussion leads to a fruitless dialogue of the deaf. Fortunately, I haven’t heard from her since. For a few weeks, things seem to be going smoothly. I receive a little money from my employer and more money from Employment Canada. Suddenly, I receive a letter from the insurer. They tell me that I must provide documents within 30 days, otherwise my disability claim will be canceled. I don’t understand anything, and I panic. So I call the Insurer, afraid that I will lose the money provided by my Employer or Employment Canada. The person on the phone explains that after 15 weeks, the Insurer is supposed to take over. I’m not sure why, it’s not explained to me, but I tell them I will do what is necessary. I go to the hospital that same day. The doctor’s secretary tells me that it could take up to three months to complete. I have a 30-day deadline to meet, but I can’t tell a doctor who spends 12-hour-plus days in operating rooms saving lives that she has to hurry up and fill out the little piece of paper, all to satisfy the whims of the insurer. I come home, call the company again, and tell them there will be a delay. The doctor’s secretary takes a few weeks to send me the completed document. Of course, throughout this process, the insurer hasn’t paid a penny. On the Employment Canada side, I also have to wait; my new status as a worker returning to work gradually requires new information, so nothing is coming in on that front either. At the end of July, I receive a phone call from the insurer. I have to answer a whole series of questions. Once again, the problem of reading medical bills, created entirely by the employer, resurfaces. I re-explain what I already told the HR lady. Unlike her, the agent understands. The insurer will pay from the beginning of June until mid-August. I tell her that this will interfere with Employment Canada. She replies that it is up to me to call the government agency and see what I owe them. According to her, Employment Canada should have stopped paying at the beginning of June. It’s now the end of July. I reply, annoyed, that I’m

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