Jitters.

Today's TranceJen has been brought to you by whomever Googled "hot babe fuck" and landed here.

I think that's pretty swell.

I did not work at the bar last night due to a shaky and seizure-y state, so Friday night was spent at home with the moms and the stepdad watching an unbearable horror movie called The Cave and contemplating court.

It's fair to say that I am nervous. It's accurate to say that I am extremely fucking nervous. I have been shafted by the system before, and I'm not as optimistic as my lawyer is regarding a good outcome.

I am owed years of backpay by Social Security and also will likely be collecting for years to come, unless I meet the neurologist of my dreams that finally figures all this shit out and makes it all better with Skippy the Wonder Pill.

SSI would seriously change my quality of life - perhaps enabling me to send my child to a better school, enabling me to actually save some money for his education, so on and so forth.

I paid into the system for about ten years before I had to stop working. I never doubted that the system would be there for me in the event of the unthinkable.

Not that I thought much about the unthinkable. You don't really give half a fart about the unthinkable when you're in your twenties and in reasonably good health.

Now, living with a rare condition that isn't the subject of telethons and magnetic car ribbons, I know that my doctors have largely given up on me; so who's to say that SSI won't give me the boot as well?

The doctors' attitude seems to have been "If I myself can't treat it, then it's untreatable, and you're going to have to just live with it."

I'm afraid that this will also be the case with Social Security. "If you're not being actively treated for a Big Famous Disease, then you're not eligible and will have to find a way to work with it."

Never mind the pile of drugs I'm taking. I see a neurologist once a month for a quick checkup and more pills and am sent on my merry way. There is no trying at this point. There is only staying where I'm at.

I am not satisfied with this, but I don't have much choice in the matter. I can't make a doctor care.

I can't make SSI care, either, and it infuriates me. All I want is some type of understanding regarding what I am living with, what I am dealing with, the fact that I am living with my mother at thirty-two and most likely would have to do so even if I had the means to move because I just plain need the help, the fact that I am scared to go into a store (or anywhere) by myself because I can't see where I'm going, and the fact that I am still very, very angry that no one can fix this.

With the anger comes the depression and with the depression comes the shrink, and the wide variety of pills I am taking for that range of bullshit.

More anger, because I am dosing myself into psychological semi-normalcy; and while I don't feel that I should have to do so, I know that I'd be a wreck without my drugs.

Sometimes this is a hard way to live. Most of the time I don't let it get to me, but sometimes it hits me that this does effectively suck.

It makes me angry that SSI has fucked me around so much so far, and it makes me angry to have to be afraid that they're going to fuck me again.

I am going to be a mess until Tuesday.

And then there is If. If I am denied. If I don't get benefits. If I get fucked.

I cannot re-apply this time.

I honestly don't know what the hell I would do. I would be well and truly fucked, stuck here, incomeless, without hope.

I find it so hard to think about that If, but I almost have to.

My entire case should be an open-and-shut case. My medical records and test results are pretty cut and dried, and even a layman can see that there are serious problems with my eyes, brain, and spine.

I just know that SSI is not going to want to pay out benefits to someone who is my age. Even my lawyer admitted that this is why I've been denied previously.

Three more days, and then I'll know.

It's going to be a long three days.

Happy Saturday.

11:00 a.m. - 2006-02-04
14 comments