This morning began the same as most—at 5:20 a.m., before the sun and before I had time to steel myself for what the day would bring. My youngest son still had a fever, his fourth day of it, and I barely slept. My mind stayed tangled in worry about Hawk. I was concerned about Silverline Healthcare’s decision. Would they approve his inpatient residential care at Rockridge Recovery for the rest of the month?
That question has been hanging in the air for nearly a week, and the silence is deafening.
A Missing Step—and a Missed Opportunity
By mid-morning, I learned that no one from Rockridge Recovery had contacted Silverline. They failed to schedule the required peer-to-peer meeting with their Clinical Director. This meeting could have overturned the original denial. Their intake process last Thursday night had failed to take into account Hawk’s long-term mental health and substance abuse history. Instead, they based everything on his “most recent usage date.”
Hawk had already gone 26 days clean. This was only because the court took 11 days to approve our motion to reduce his bond. As a result, he could be transferred straight from jail to rehab. That delay, and their shallow intake, now hang over us like a cloud threatening to break.
I finally decided to take matters into my own hands and called Silverline’s Expedited Appeal Hotline. Within an hour, an associate called me back, confirming that Rockridge Recovery—not me—had to initiate the peer-to-peer request.
The Endless Loop of “Who’s Responsible”
Around the same time, Rockridge Recovery’s third Clinical Director in six days called. I explained that if Silverline refused to authorize inpatient coverage, then they needed to approve PHP treatment. They also needed to apply the $1,200 I paid upfront toward his room and board.
At this point, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being shaken down by the healthcare mafia. Each party is trying to squeeze every possible dollar. They are avoiding the ethical and legal route of having insurance cover what’s medically necessary.
No parent or person in recovery should face this bureaucratic nightmare. This is especially true for someone recently incarcerated for choices made under the influence. It only deepens the trauma for everyone involved and risks derailing the fragile progress that recovery demands.
“I Don’t Have Anyone. I’m So Alone.”
Then came the hardest moment of the day.
Hawk called, sounding hopeful—he’d been told he only needed to complete 21 days in treatment before discharge. He said Rockridge Recovery helps clients find jobs and make life plans afterward. But what he didn’t remember—or maybe didn’t want to—was that he can’t come home.
We’ve talked about it countless times, but denial has its own voice. When I reminded him, he started to cry.
“I don’t have anyone,” he said. “I’m so alone.”
Then he hung up.
It was gut-wrenching, but I had to hold the boundary. I texted him afterward:
Hey Hawk,
I’ve been thinking about what we talked about earlier. It’s not safe or healthy for any of us if you come home right away. I want you to have the best chance to stay on track. Keep growing.
…I have faith in you, even when things are hard. I know you can figure this out, and I love you.
😘 🫂
He hasn’t responded. His Life360 shows his iPhone battery below 5%. I’m praying he’s okay.
The Paper Trail No One Should Have to Write
I ended the night drafting more emails—to Silverline’s Behavioral Health Medical Resolution Team and to Victoria, our case contact. Every message is filled with urgency and exhaustion. There is hope that someone, somewhere, will finally see the human story behind the policy number.
“Hi Victoria,
In the interest of getting an expedited decision regarding Hawk’s case, I went ahead and called the Behavioral Health Medical Resolution Team number listed on the denial…
It’s now 10 p.m. I’m emotionally and physically drained—dried up like the Sahara Desert. Still, beneath the fatigue, there’s love. The kind of love that refuses to quit, even when the system makes you feel like giving up.
Finding Strength—and a Way Forward
Tonight, after one more round of calls and messages, I spoke with my sister. She’s worked in healthcare PR for over 20 years, and she didn’t mince words. She gave me the names of several state and federal agencies to contact about our story. She also recommended writing an op-ed for our local newspaper. It’s time to bring attention to what’s happening. We need to show how families like ours can be ground down by red tape. This happens while they are simply trying to save a loved one’s life. I’m going to pursue that tomorrow.
I’m lucky, in a way. I work from home. I have a business of my own. I’ve been able to walk away from it for nearly a month now. Since Hawk’s arrest on September 20, I’ve spent less than five hours on it. That’s a luxury many parents don’t have. I can’t imagine what single parents—or couples with two full-time jobs—would do in this situation. Most would probably be forced to give up.
But I will not give up.
What’s Next
Tomorrow, I’ll keep calling. Keep documenting. Keep fighting for the care Hawk deserves. Healing should not depend on who fills out the right form first. It should not rely on who has the time and resources to chase down the people who didn’t.
1 Comment