SirFozzie
11-21-2017, 06:07 PM
For six plus years, I've been plagued by a series of inflammatory diseases. Iritis (Inflammation of the Iris), infections in the lower leg. Diverticulitis and Crohn's disease. Severe inflammatory arthritis with increasing osteo arthritis.
I've gone through ER stays for my leg, for my eye, and for my GI. All three cases have led to either extra surgeries or actual hospital stays. I was unable to work for a couple years due to my health issues.
It was just one hit, after another. I was able to get short term disability through my job at first, but they denied me Long Term Disability. In short, at that point I was looking at no job, no income, basically a life housebound, reliant on family and others for everything and anything from shopping to even basic household cleaning things.
I hit bottom. There was a day where I went to my brother and said "Take me to the ER, because in the mental state I'm in, something's going to happen if I can't change anything in my life".
I spent a few days in the ER, another ten days or so in hospital getting my life back together, and weeks in a part time hospitalization program to try to get my mental status back together again.
One thing I realized is that I was blaming myself. I was taking the rejections from disability as "You could really work if you wanted to, you just don't want to work". That's a horrible mental state to be in. I remember before things even got totally bad, I went to a job interview to see how I could do. It was a 40 minute drive each way. At the end of it, I was in such pain and suffering I spent about the entire next two days in bed. It was like saying "If you just gutted it out, you could work. You're a failure. A fraud." over and over again to myself, despite the evidence that noone could do any better in the situation I was in.
My family was supportive. My mom and Grandmother kept me believing that things would get better. My brother pushed me to keep at it with a Disability claim. They knew I wasn't faking it, or exaggerating things. My dad kept me going with financial support.
My doctors knew what would make me "better". Not necessarily better enough to go to work again full time, but better enough to live a better life. They just had to convince the insurance companies that all other things had been tried first. And wouldn't you know it, the rhumatologist and GI doctors knew what the hell they were talking about. Right before they put me on a new drug early this year, they took blood work and my inflammatory markers were 300% over the number to be considered "high" inflammation. By the middle of the year, that number was just above the high inflammation mark. I was able to return to the working world (albeit a work from home, I still have trouble with driving and fatigue issues)
In October, I faced a disability appeal hearing. I got my chance to tell my story on the record, in front of a judge. I got to explain something that no bunch of pencil pushers could ever tell from dry medical reports. I felt good about getting my side of the story out there.
And just as important was having the judge explain to the occupational specialist that he wanted her to consider two sets of work restrictions, based of health conditions he described.
The first set, was unreasonably good, and she said "Maybe he could have found work as a shipping clerk. Maybe."
Then on the other set of restrictions, that I felt more fit my situations, she said "Any one of the last four restrictions you described would be considered disabling."
Today, it was made official. I was officially designated disabled for that period of time. The financial side is good, it will let me pay back those who supported me during these horrible last few years. More importantly, that quiet little asshole voice inside me that kept trying to tell me "You're a fraud. You're nothing, you could really work if you had to" gets a giant middle finger and told to Get the hell out of my life.
I wish my mother (passed Dec 2015) and Grandmother (passed last week) were here to see this. I wish I could tell them that they were right. I can tell my other family members how much their support means to me.
I am vindicated. They are vindicated in their support of me.
This suffering HAS a meaning.
I've gone through ER stays for my leg, for my eye, and for my GI. All three cases have led to either extra surgeries or actual hospital stays. I was unable to work for a couple years due to my health issues.
It was just one hit, after another. I was able to get short term disability through my job at first, but they denied me Long Term Disability. In short, at that point I was looking at no job, no income, basically a life housebound, reliant on family and others for everything and anything from shopping to even basic household cleaning things.
I hit bottom. There was a day where I went to my brother and said "Take me to the ER, because in the mental state I'm in, something's going to happen if I can't change anything in my life".
I spent a few days in the ER, another ten days or so in hospital getting my life back together, and weeks in a part time hospitalization program to try to get my mental status back together again.
One thing I realized is that I was blaming myself. I was taking the rejections from disability as "You could really work if you wanted to, you just don't want to work". That's a horrible mental state to be in. I remember before things even got totally bad, I went to a job interview to see how I could do. It was a 40 minute drive each way. At the end of it, I was in such pain and suffering I spent about the entire next two days in bed. It was like saying "If you just gutted it out, you could work. You're a failure. A fraud." over and over again to myself, despite the evidence that noone could do any better in the situation I was in.
My family was supportive. My mom and Grandmother kept me believing that things would get better. My brother pushed me to keep at it with a Disability claim. They knew I wasn't faking it, or exaggerating things. My dad kept me going with financial support.
My doctors knew what would make me "better". Not necessarily better enough to go to work again full time, but better enough to live a better life. They just had to convince the insurance companies that all other things had been tried first. And wouldn't you know it, the rhumatologist and GI doctors knew what the hell they were talking about. Right before they put me on a new drug early this year, they took blood work and my inflammatory markers were 300% over the number to be considered "high" inflammation. By the middle of the year, that number was just above the high inflammation mark. I was able to return to the working world (albeit a work from home, I still have trouble with driving and fatigue issues)
In October, I faced a disability appeal hearing. I got my chance to tell my story on the record, in front of a judge. I got to explain something that no bunch of pencil pushers could ever tell from dry medical reports. I felt good about getting my side of the story out there.
And just as important was having the judge explain to the occupational specialist that he wanted her to consider two sets of work restrictions, based of health conditions he described.
The first set, was unreasonably good, and she said "Maybe he could have found work as a shipping clerk. Maybe."
Then on the other set of restrictions, that I felt more fit my situations, she said "Any one of the last four restrictions you described would be considered disabling."
Today, it was made official. I was officially designated disabled for that period of time. The financial side is good, it will let me pay back those who supported me during these horrible last few years. More importantly, that quiet little asshole voice inside me that kept trying to tell me "You're a fraud. You're nothing, you could really work if you had to" gets a giant middle finger and told to Get the hell out of my life.
I wish my mother (passed Dec 2015) and Grandmother (passed last week) were here to see this. I wish I could tell them that they were right. I can tell my other family members how much their support means to me.
I am vindicated. They are vindicated in their support of me.
This suffering HAS a meaning.