Today is week 11 off of all my food allergies. I’ve been slow to realize that I’m hopeful to a fault. I am eating correctly, but my fatigue is still great. Something – plain and simple – is completely and totally screwed up. Is it too soon to donate my tummy to science? I don’t mind waiting at the lab to hear the results once and for all.
I fell into bed hours ago during the early evening. Felt like I was in bed for ever – awake – curtains closed – but still light out? What the heck? It’s almost 8:30PM and it’s not totally dark out yet? I thought the longest day of the year was in June – or at least not May anyway. Of course I grabbed my beloved, all mighty, Blackberry. I stepped out on my balcony and took a picture. The evening sky was a shade of dark deep blue and the trees a black silhouette. Lovely. I’ve been taking pictures most of my life. For me it’s a cool way to feel connected to what is in front of me. It was a short, but good distraction. A deep breath of the clean evening air. Thank you very much. . .
Then . . . Boom. . . My intestine literally grabbed my attention. You know what? As much as I hate to say this – as much as I have been following directions for 11 weeks today – I am not feeling a difference yet – I’m just not feeling an improvement. I’ve followed directions from my doctors. I’ve followed directions of my dietitian. I’ve changed my foods. I’m gaining more knowledge and reading and reading. I’m doing my least favorite thing – cooking ahead of time for God’s sake – putting it all in easy to warm up Tupperware thingys. When the chronic pain is “do-able” I convince myself that something good is happening. All the while, somehow, I am still sending out my resume on-line along with filling out applications. I need a job. I am becoming quite the frugal-martyr-maniac!
In my mind I imagine and hope with a *poof* that magically I’ll regain my vibrant health on the same day I start my imaginary new job. In that same thought, there is another thought, a thought I refuse to listen to . . . a thought of applying for disability. To me such a thought brings me to feeling that I am losing, I am giving up, I am not fighting enough, I am not positive enough. As if accepting help from S.S. Disability means I’m stuck with this way of life for ever and in turn this would make me a quitter – no body likes a quitter. Right? The thing is, more than once it has been lovingly suggested to me by more than one friend, to check out disability. Okay. Okay. I finally did it. I surrendered and I checked it out. On the Social Security website I found a check list for what I would need. Low and behold I have all that I would need in my files. It took time, but I did it. Once more I follow directions. I parked my car at the Social Security building – it turns out to only be 2 miles from my home. I step into the elevator holding my organized medical files with one hand while I put my other hand on my tender belly. As I ride the elevator up to the 3rd floor, I read the silver engraved sign on the elevator wall: “In case of fire do not be alarmed – push the alarm button“. Are they serious? Who the heck wrote that? Wait . . . Don’t be alarmed but push the alarm?! This is for real?! Who is this person who has a job engraving signs with such goofy wording? Did they get paid for this stupidity? They got hired for this? Really? The elevator doors opened and I gladly got out and took off like a heard of turtles towards my appointment at the S.S. office.
When I got called for my appointment the gentleman said, “so what were you able to bring with you? ”
I spread out my organized files on his desk like a magician with a big deck of cards. “Pick a file any file!” I thought to myself.
I got through it, I only started to cry one and a half times, and I had everything in my medical files to get the process started. I did it. I was able to do it because I surrendered first – and then I was able to apply for Social Security Disability. I was exhausted when it was all over, but still I could feel some of the weight on my shoulders lift. . . Who knew?
I’ve done my part. I did all I could do. I am completely fine with the knowledge that I will not know for a few months if I quality or not. I did the footwork because I surrendered. Now I leave the results to God. It’s out of my hands now. Yes – sweet surrender.
All will work out – this is my path – these are my lessons – so some day I may be able to help another and tell them, “hey, this is what I did” . . . I am one of the lucky ones.