Current mood:

thankful

A while ago....
I thought it was "pick on the disabled" week in the Seattle P-I. First some guy is resentful that a disabled woman on a scooter always takes up six seats on the bus when he is going home. I wish to say to him that if she is on the bus the same time you are going home, she probably works, and is tired, too. So lay off. At least she is working and a taxpayer. Then some RN (who should know better) writes in about how people get on SSDI for "a little arthritis or a sore back." In a perfect world, she would lose her license for lack of empathy. Fortunately, it is not a perfect world, or I would have lost my nursing license for lack of empathy when I was young. I realize now through painful experience that the little old ladies in the nursing home who wanted a pain pill every morning at 5 AM probably needed it. Like I do now thirty years later.
No one gets on SSDI for a sore back or a little arthritis. I have severe degenerative joint disease in my knees. There is no cartilage left, they are bone-on-bone and very painful. I am not a good candidate for knee replacement, my orthopedic surgeon tells me, because I also have fibromyalgia and chronic myofascial pain. I am also depressed much of the time, probably because of the pain, and all the things I have difficulty doing now. However, the Social Security Administration says I can take a sedentary job, and has turned me down for SSDI twice now. I only know one person who got SSDI on the first application, and she was in a motorized wheelchair when she applied. The jobs they suggested I take, in a call center, are leaving for India at an alarming rate. Even the nurse hotline Washington Medicaid has contracted with is in Colorado. I wish people would quit listening to the right wing rhetoric, and go talk to some disabled people about what their lives are like.
The really sad thing is that I worked as a nurse for thirty years, taking care of everybody else's mom, dad and grandparents. It is a dirty, dangerous job working in nursing homes. According to "A Job to Die For", by Lisa Cullen nursing homes have an 18.2 per 100 rate of injury, higher than the construction industry, police or firemen. If I had been a carpenter, a cop or a fireman, after thirty years on the job I would have a pension.
Still, I am grateful that I live in the United States, where I do have subsidized housing, food stamps, Medicaid, and GA-X. It isn't much, but it is better than I would have in India, unless I got one of those call center jobs over there. I'm grateful for my service dog, who keeps me company, moving and sane. I'm grateful for a sister who sends me gift cards and phone cards randomly, and who bought me a plane ticket to Denver so I could be with my 85 year old Dad on Valentine's day. I'm grateful to my Dad, who bought me a scooter, because he knows what it's like to have knees that are bone-on-bone. I'm grateful to my friend and lover, who still thinks I'm attractive, and who bought me a newer used computer because he knows how much the Internet connects me to people. I'm grateful for another friend who bought me a Palm Pilot, for the times when I suffer from "fibrofog" and CRS (can't remember stuff). I'm grateful for bus lifts, and curb cuts, and all that came with the Americans with Disabilities Act. I am grateful for the Doney Clinic, which provides free veterinary care for my dog. I am grateful to Seattle Purebred Dog Rescue, who helped me find the right dog for me. I am grateful to her first owners, who not only gave her to me, but put $50 down at a vet for her shots. I am grateful for medications that keep the pain down to a dull roar.
My life is not easy, despite what my right-wing brother thinks. It is a full-time job just keeping up with the paperwork and appointments to keep my benefits. And every day I see people who are worse off than I am. But sometimes, playing Pollyanna wears me out.