day 720

Yes, I'm still counting. Why? It's important to me.

I got a letter in the mail two days ago. I have to take my husband with me to the local (45 minutes away) Social Security Office next week. Why? Because, according to the judge that granted my disability claim, "You may need assistance in handling your Social Security benefits."

What the heck?

I'm in pain. I'm not developmentally delayed, or insane (at least not obviously), or incompetent. I have psych diagnoses, yes; but those diagnoses do not hamper my ability to handle my benefits any less than they hamper my ability to handle our household finances and make sure the bills get paid on time every month, the car has gas in it, we have food and clothes, and the electricity stays on.

What makes the whole situation ironic to me is that when I was approved, they sent - along with my approval letter - a statement telling me that according to the doctor's notes I may recover from this situation and that they were going to re-assess me in one year instead of 3. Now they tell me they're not sure I can handle my own money, but in 6 months they're going to look and see if they can make me responsible again for the welfare of up to 8 post-op patients at a time for 12 hour shifts?

Does this seem odd to anyone but me?

I think it was the magical 3-word phrase that did it.

"Borderline Personality Disorder."

Frankly, I didn't think that was a recover-able diagnosis. But hey, what do I know? Apparently nothing.

I didn't know you could recover from atypical facial pain, either, since it's not a treatable disease. The only thing you can do for it is manage (what a joke!) the pain. That is possible if you can find a doctor un-afraid enough of the DEA to give you enough medication to function on a relatively decent basis for more than 2 or 3 hours a day.

I have to stop driving. I almost went off the edge of the road several times today. My concentration is impaired. I don't know if it's the increase in the Lexapro and Xanax or the pain. What I do know is that I won't put the lives of others at risk to salvage a little of my remaining independence. It's not going to happen.

I'm frustrated and the words are running around my head going 95 miles an hour and they won't slow down enough for me to make sense out of them. I was going to write something that meant a lot to me when the thought occurred to me earlier but now I couldn't remember it to save my life.

Does this mean I'm getting better?