Had some news. Approved for SSDI. The kicker is the doctor doesn’t think I’m competent to handle my finances.
(Originally sent as an email by Eve Hinson on 5.19.12, plus following responses on 5.20.12)
Listened to the lady call Jim at work and do paperwork so my checks, and the kids’, are deposited to his account. Get labeled mental and everything they give you costs a pound of dignity.
I’ve decided to take my netbook with me next time. That way if I need to tell them they’re an asshole, I can do so without stuttering.
I felt so humiliated. Sorted into the less-than-human category. Yesterday, devastated. Today numb and gardening. Between those moments, I’m so angry. So fucking angry.
About that, about being sick and not knowing what’s really wrong. Realizing I’m never going to wake up some morning and be better. That’s probably a no shit Sherlock, but I’m just starting to catch on.
It’s OK with all my doctors that I’m addicted to Xanax, smoke cannabis all day and eat their pills to have any semblance of a life. To have any ability to function minimally. I’ve done everything I can do to adapt and attempt independence. It’s such bullshit.
Something happened to me and no one in the medical field will believe me. I’m crazy so it’s all crazy talk.
Saw the neurologist and he said I did show some sharp waves in the temporal area on my eeg, but he didn’t want to talk about that more because they already did that workup. I had no idea. Last year they told me it was normal. I asked him what that meant.
It meant some seizure activity, but that’s not what was wrong with me. (He shuts the door) The medicine he’s giving me is for seizures and bipolar.
So I won’t have a big seizure just in case and I’m fucking nuts. Both covered, next patient please.
He can’t pin my leg/walking issues on that, so going to have an MRI or some other test on my back. That could be degeneration of discs or something due to RA, or something else.
Disability will check in with my docs in about three years to confirm I’m still disabled. Everyone’s checked off.
I’m exhausted. I need new doctors. When I’m able, I’ll start again and find some real help.
It’s human to think different.
Eve Hinson | July 2017
Evolution of Eve | Rediscovering life then and exploring the now
Memory loss, scattered focus, inability to track time, and an ill-known stigmatized neurological disorder, plus PTSD symptoms, have erased or complicated recall of Eve’s first 37 years of life.
Now in her mid-40s, Eve is Autistic AF (born that way) and left with a brain that doesn’t include filters (she says fuck. a lot), likes to glitch and, after the memory wipe, created a new personhood. Eve is different to those who’ve known her from childhood. She is unknown even to herself and seeking to learn about her life from back then, and embracing life now.
This series focuses on self-discovery after the onset of severe mental illness, memory loss and permanent disability. It’s a different life and a worthy life.
Contact Eve | firstname.lastname@example.org