Some days I feel as though I just might be abusing "the system." I awaken with a clear head, a few creaks and groans, but what 53 year old doesn't, my mind clear, without the fog that clouds my ability to attain words needed to complete sentences. I begin my list of chores post haste, achieving nearly all listed, by day's end. I'm even able to stay up until 10 p.m. .
The accusations of people abusing the Social Security Disability, fly wildly on social media. Posters of heavy set people using store supplied scooters to complete their shopping, videos of a person flinging their walker about with ease, rather than leaning on it for support. Judgments are bountiful. And usually placed by uneducated, ignorant people.
As educated as I am on the issue, I have been "that" person. As a result of the accusations I am defensive, and find myself pleading my case to people I don't even know. Energy, I need not expend. Energy I can't afford to expend.
And then there are "those" days. Like today. A day that was preceded by restless, choppy sleep, leading to a headache that roared when I sat up in bed. A day where getting to the kitchen for the comfort of coffee seems to take forever, clinging to furniture and onto walls to steady my weak, unsteady body. Can I stand long enough to pour a bowl of cereal? If I do, will I make it to the living room without spilling it. And if I do, can I eat it without dribbling the milk down my chin via the shaking of my hand. A day when that empty bowl will sit on the end table until I need to get up for a trip to the bathroom. Those trips need to be made strategically, with how long it may take to get there, in mind. After I am done I will hobble the bowl to the kitchen, perhaps refill my coffee, and return to my padded, strategically laid out, place on the sofa. My loyal, Gabby will snuggle next to me, but only cozy until I have to switch positions due to pain. This happens frequently, and I apologize to her each time. This paragraph covers the first hour I am up. A bit of pain will lower between 11 a.m. and 5:00, then begin it's rise again. During that time I will need to nap due to overwhelming fatigue, that seems to swallow me up. If you're doing the math, you have found that I may have as much a 6 "good" hours in a day, 2 of which, are spent trying to fall asleep for that nap. That leaves 4 hours of the 24 we are gifted each day, that I feel able to tolerate noise, smells, and the pain. On a grading scale, maybe a D+.
And still, one those good days, numbering around three a month, I feel guilty to be receiving Disability Income. I've always defended it with the argument that what I receive is based on how long I worked and what I paid in to the "system". About a month ago, it was pointed out, in yet another Facebook argument, that he, too, pays into that pool, and I was welcome for his supporting me. "It must be nice." I was shattered. He was right. I don't have my own little Social Security box, that I draw from. It is a pool of money from all workers. So, the ugly truth is, 27 days of the month, this country's workers help support me. Perhaps what sets disability apart from welfare is that I am only receiving as much as I actually paid in, as a 25 year employee.
But, those three days...The C+ days...The ones that allow me to perform tasks on a list, including a shower...I feel like I am abusing "the system."
I suspect, that until I am bedridden, I will continue to feel that way.
