| Aug 08 2011 |
08/08/11
Goodmorning, all !
This is for everyone who has to try to live on a fixed income, such as SSDI--like me, who have no secondary sourc of income, and are too ill to work. While I am so very grateful for my SSDI, which--after all--is a sum arrived at by Social Security who calculate your last, best 40 quarters ( 10 years ! ) of your past emploment, which means, of course, that this limited income is not--as many have said to me--'free money'; no, no, no, it is the sum I would have been given when Iwould have retired at age 65. The fine folks at Social Security calculate this amount by reading tarot cards, or divining sheep entrails, or..most probably, by throwing darts at a target. These wonderful people ( and yes, some of them have been extremely couteous and helpful ), read the Farmer's Almanac, so that they will not only be able to arive at some sum you hopefully will be paid each month; it also tells them the best time to plant soy. For weeks after my disablity, I received SSI, which was $158.00 a month. Granted--then--that our little family unit consisted of myself, my late mother who was 85, and begining to have health problems for which I was her caretaker, and--not to be left out--my best, 'dog-on the planet', who is now 14 yrs old. Financially, we died, as my SSI and my mother's social security was simply not enough to survive on. It was then, that I began to ramp up my Visa card to pay for groceries, utilites...everything beyond which our combined incomes would cover; until....I owed Visa thousands of dollars in unsecured debt. Even so, I did not go on a shopping blitz, and the order of our comfort and living levels still dropped precipitously. When I could no longer make the payments to Visa, good, old BOA closed the account ( even though I had taken out insurance that should have covered debt accured after my disability, and, please keep this in mind, aas it is important ), and let loose the ravening hounds from hell, who are collection agents. I fully believe that these agencies look for, and hire sociopaths and criminal minds to do their dirty work. They proceeded to launch into a campaign Now I realize that people need jobs; however these collection agents seemed to take especial pleasure in being telephone nazis. I was alternately threatened, sworn at, and harrassed at least once, twice, or, three times a day, every day. And, when I once mentioned--as I always did--that although I although I never denied my indebtedness--that was why I had insurance, who often assured me that all would be made right, I was always ignored by these 'sub-humans'. On one occasion, a woman I spoke with stated, " I don't give a goddamn about your insurance...I just want my money"; and, one call that actually made me laugh, when a young man telephoned me, and told me that ," Well, ah...$12,000.00 would make it sweet for me." I mentally composed a picture of a nickel con, with a fifty dollar, slicked back, and greasy haicut; a shirt opened to the waist to display yard, and yards of 'gold'; and pants with dirt cuffs from dragging them on the sidewalk as he stood, flipping a quarter, whilst lounging against a lampost, truly a 'fourth-tier' member of organized crime. LOL. Just the thought still makes me laugh. when I stopped laughing at him I replied, "Honey...if I had $12,000.00, I would make it sweet for ME.", even as I deleted him to the twilight zone on my caller I.D.
After better than three years after BOA closed the account, the indebtedness was passed from collection agency to collection agency, ( and, which each change, the settlement buy-out lowered), and I was weary of playing hide and seek, I finally--although I hated to do so--borrowed the money from a friend, and accepted their settlement amount, after which BOA wrote the account off as paid, but not to the fullest amount. Somewhere along the way, BOA claimed I had missed four, lousy payments, which, as you might know, wrecked my credit.
I did have two savings accounts for my 'old age', but in 2006, my mother ( who stated she didn't want me to bathe her, or dress her, change her, or feed her, which I could understand, as few 88 year old mothers want their past, middle age sons to in any way, cause her to lose her dignity, and she had to be admitted--perforce--to an excellent, though extremely expensive long-term nursing facility.
She had long since run out of Medicare, and Tricare days, and so, from after the first week in June, 2006, I had to pay for her stay there in cash until the end of November of that year, until we could get her on Medicaid. Friends, that was about $395 per day; you count the days, and do the math. What that did ( and I do it without hesitation again should I had to, as I loved my mother dearly, and this facilty was reknowned for its excellent, and compasionate care ), was to vaporize two, savings accounts, our 'join' account, and, anything by way of cash that I could lay ready hands to.
I would have to say without equivocation, that May, and June of 2006 were perhaps the worst years of my life, prior to my subsequent diagnoses of Lupus, diabetes, fibromyalgia, and, you name it...its all on my 'profile', In just those TWO months, my then-shrink took ,e off ALL of my medications, in favor of others whch he thought might work better; I should have know, as had he, that in stopping all the meds abruptly, I went into severe withdrawel; plus--that week--my mother and I were both food poisoned, sent to hospital; I left as there was one one to take care of my dog. You might know, that, had I stayed in hospital, they would have discovered the pneumonia that I had . So flipped out was I, that I very nearly lost P.O.A. of my mother, to a distant cousin, who threatened to take Mom back with her to northern Florida, where I knew I probably would never see her again. I should have been admitted to a psych hospital, for between the withdrals and the pneumonia, I was so delusional, I hardly knew if I was on horseback or on foot. For if--if i happened to pass a mirror, I dared not look, as what I saw was not me, but a monster. I thank God that a dear friend stepped in to right things, dropping the incompetancy hearing against my mother, and transferring her for a psych hospital to an A.L.F., where, during her first night there, she slipped on her way to the bathroom, and broke her hip.
Luckily, my former meds wee restored sufficiently to allow me to go into hospital to be treated for the pneumonia.
I apologize for going on so long, but I will get to the point soom, I promise ! LOL
Fast forward to the present, in which any, or some, or all of my new physical ailments, and, as I hope I have mentioned, I am now on an SSDI that is less than a third of what I used to earn when I was employed. NONE of us--including retirees--have been granted a c.o.l.a, while in almost every aspect of our lives, the prices of everything have almost doubled, or more. To my electric bill hasbeen added not one, but two fuel adjustment increases; my telephone cable bill, which allows me to write this drivel to you ( a dear friend gave methis computer for my last birthday ! ).
Food and gasoline, and insurance has risen into the strosphere; as an example: I was thunderstruck when the price of a pound of butter went from $1.99 to $4.99. And since I am not 'old enough' to be eligible for any 'Senior' programs which still have funding in this County, which, by and large is 'rural/agricultural'. We are in an enormously large County, and it is a poor County, besides.
So I am denied whatever services that might exist just to help me survive now: anytime I need the yard mowed, or my laundry done, or my house straightened up, or groceries, or prescriptions that have to ne pickd up for me, as I no longer can drive, I have to pay people out of my own pocket, to the tune of whatever they tell me the price is. What choice do I have? I HAVE to have my medications, as--frankly ( and not to be assumed dramatic)--often, I think I would rather die, than have to live in unrelieved agony and despair.
Maybe I am weak-willed, or...call it what you like, but, for those of you who know exactly what complete days of unmitigated agony, and of drifting from med time to med time, even pushing the times forward sometimes in order to obtain some semblance of relief is like, even when both the constant pain AND the medications conspire to leave one listless, immobile, bereft of interest or desire, and when a kind of total mind fog, makes one careless and forgetful. And, affects relationships all around you, about which you can do little, if anything.
Gradually, that little, mostly reliable income check beame less and less able to get me through the month. I had to drop my term life insurance policy, and my car insurance, after a neighbor ( who borrowed it for work so that she and he husband could find a home away from having to live with his mother !!!!!, and who returned to car that was a wreck, andnow, one that is rusting in the driveway ), and, worst of all, I had to drop my Humana PPO as my secondary to Medicare, as when I had it, it was a breeze; I could see anyone out of network, and, eveything was paid for. Now all I have is Medicare, and Medicaid ( run by absolute morons ). So once, in going to a visit at my PM doctor ( via the County cab system, which I DO qualify for ), I neglected to bring my wallet along, and even thugh I was in major pain, and on fumes for medications I still had left, the receptionist would not allow me to see the doctor, because I could not pony up the $20.66 co-pay. All they could do for me is to call up a ride to take me home. Although I think I remained to be polite ( as this PM will as likely drop you for any infractions, sort of like elementary school ! ), inside I was seething, sad, depressed, sorry, regretful on top of the pain. While there, I died a thousand times inside, as I asked another patient in the waiting room if--perhaps--she could loan me the money, that I would pay it back; of course, she looked up, and past me, sort of smiled, but said she couldn't. And this was after my PM's assistant said my records showed that I was out of pain medication. He asked me what bank did I use, and I replied, BOA, he said, "...well, there's a BOA branch right across the street. Maybe you can get the money there."
Now...I walked into that office wearing my portable oxygen, and had difficulty walking, even with a cane; AND, I'd have to try to cross six lanes of traffic, in the rain, no less, and besides, ' Tears of Christ ', I hadn't brought my wallet along ( the PM won't take checks ), and they knew my wallet and debit card were at home.
You know, there are teaars of joy, tears of sorrow, tears of sadness, tears of loss; but there are also tears of anger. Think about it, there I was, clearly in need, yet I was turned away at the gate for a lousy $20.66. So from now on, that sum is burned into my brain. For in that brief instant my need and wont of treatment, and of those lousy little pieces of paper that are blessed prescriptions, for the first time, my medications made me beg. And will I know it isn't so, I felt like I was a junkie, pleading for the next fix. and, in a way, I was, I supppose.
Last wek, when my little check came in, I arose early to begin payiong bills, so that, by mid-afternoon of the same day in which I had goten my SSDI, I had already spent more than half of monthly income, well, actually, more than half. And a trip to the grocery store, made for me by my C.N.A. on her off day ( and by then, I was out of everything, and had presriptions to be picked up ),, I now have only about $78.00 in the checking account, and that has to last me the rest of the month ? I've already had to borrow money from a friend, and, in the past, have had to go hat in hand, to borrow money from my cousins, all of which I do sacrifice to pay back.
Several years ago, or, maybe a little longer than that, my SSDI managed to carry me through the month. Then I gradually noticed that I was broke three days from the end of the month; then, five days; then two weeks, until now, my checking account lies lifeless before me easily by the tenth of the month. I've had to ask kind persons to hold my checks until I get more money into the account, and I hat that, too. For when I was younger, and working full time, and making decent money, I had more than enough to survive on; whenever I wrote a check, it was as good as my word.
These days, I could easily use another $1,000.00 ( as..who couldn't ? LOL ) coming into the house each month; but even if it did, I would still be beneath the national poverty level, but can guarantee you that I would still be grateful for, and could use that extra grand a month, and could probably even put a fair amount of it in savings. And for you, my friends at MDJunction who have families and children, the going must be near impossible, and that, on top of your distress, suffering, and pain. To you, you have my utmost respect. You also have what strength I can lend, a ready ear, and--I hope--an open, and honest heart.
And as I most sincerely hope, that pain shared, is pain better understood, and pain better withstood. And I wish with all my heart for more well days, than ill. And I wish you peaceful, and untroubled nights; and whilst I am wishing, I wish for you serenity, strength against adversity, clarity of thought, and purpose, and that you and yours may never have to do without. I know I have gone on overlong, maybe making it impossible to read, but my feelings remain the same. And I hope they always will.
love to all,
'Zahc'
Goodmorning, all !
This is for everyone who has to try to live on a fixed income, such as SSDI--like me, who have no secondary sourc of income, and are too ill to work. While I am so very grateful for my SSDI, which--after all--is a sum arrived at by Social Security who calculate your last, best 40 quarters ( 10 years ! ) of your past emploment, which means, of course, that this limited income is not--as many have said to me--'free money'; no, no, no, it is the sum I would have been given when Iwould have retired at age 65. The fine folks at Social Security calculate this amount by reading tarot cards, or divining sheep entrails, or..most probably, by throwing darts at a target. These wonderful people ( and yes, some of them have been extremely couteous and helpful ), read the Farmer's Almanac, so that they will not only be able to arive at some sum you hopefully will be paid each month; it also tells them the best time to plant soy. For weeks after my disablity, I received SSI, which was $158.00 a month. Granted--then--that our little family unit consisted of myself, my late mother who was 85, and begining to have health problems for which I was her caretaker, and--not to be left out--my best, 'dog-on the planet', who is now 14 yrs old. Financially, we died, as my SSI and my mother's social security was simply not enough to survive on. It was then, that I began to ramp up my Visa card to pay for groceries, utilites...everything beyond which our combined incomes would cover; until....I owed Visa thousands of dollars in unsecured debt. Even so, I did not go on a shopping blitz, and the order of our comfort and living levels still dropped precipitously. When I could no longer make the payments to Visa, good, old BOA closed the account ( even though I had taken out insurance that should have covered debt accured after my disability, and, please keep this in mind, aas it is important ), and let loose the ravening hounds from hell, who are collection agents. I fully believe that these agencies look for, and hire sociopaths and criminal minds to do their dirty work. They proceeded to launch into a campaign Now I realize that people need jobs; however these collection agents seemed to take especial pleasure in being telephone nazis. I was alternately threatened, sworn at, and harrassed at least once, twice, or, three times a day, every day. And, when I once mentioned--as I always did--that although I although I never denied my indebtedness--that was why I had insurance, who often assured me that all would be made right, I was always ignored by these 'sub-humans'. On one occasion, a woman I spoke with stated, " I don't give a goddamn about your insurance...I just want my money"; and, one call that actually made me laugh, when a young man telephoned me, and told me that ," Well, ah...$12,000.00 would make it sweet for me." I mentally composed a picture of a nickel con, with a fifty dollar, slicked back, and greasy haicut; a shirt opened to the waist to display yard, and yards of 'gold'; and pants with dirt cuffs from dragging them on the sidewalk as he stood, flipping a quarter, whilst lounging against a lampost, truly a 'fourth-tier' member of organized crime. LOL. Just the thought still makes me laugh. when I stopped laughing at him I replied, "Honey...if I had $12,000.00, I would make it sweet for ME.", even as I deleted him to the twilight zone on my caller I.D.
After better than three years after BOA closed the account, the indebtedness was passed from collection agency to collection agency, ( and, which each change, the settlement buy-out lowered), and I was weary of playing hide and seek, I finally--although I hated to do so--borrowed the money from a friend, and accepted their settlement amount, after which BOA wrote the account off as paid, but not to the fullest amount. Somewhere along the way, BOA claimed I had missed four, lousy payments, which, as you might know, wrecked my credit.
I did have two savings accounts for my 'old age', but in 2006, my mother ( who stated she didn't want me to bathe her, or dress her, change her, or feed her, which I could understand, as few 88 year old mothers want their past, middle age sons to in any way, cause her to lose her dignity, and she had to be admitted--perforce--to an excellent, though extremely expensive long-term nursing facility.
She had long since run out of Medicare, and Tricare days, and so, from after the first week in June, 2006, I had to pay for her stay there in cash until the end of November of that year, until we could get her on Medicaid. Friends, that was about $395 per day; you count the days, and do the math. What that did ( and I do it without hesitation again should I had to, as I loved my mother dearly, and this facilty was reknowned for its excellent, and compasionate care ), was to vaporize two, savings accounts, our 'join' account, and, anything by way of cash that I could lay ready hands to.
I would have to say without equivocation, that May, and June of 2006 were perhaps the worst years of my life, prior to my subsequent diagnoses of Lupus, diabetes, fibromyalgia, and, you name it...its all on my 'profile', In just those TWO months, my then-shrink took ,e off ALL of my medications, in favor of others whch he thought might work better; I should have know, as had he, that in stopping all the meds abruptly, I went into severe withdrawel; plus--that week--my mother and I were both food poisoned, sent to hospital; I left as there was one one to take care of my dog. You might know, that, had I stayed in hospital, they would have discovered the pneumonia that I had . So flipped out was I, that I very nearly lost P.O.A. of my mother, to a distant cousin, who threatened to take Mom back with her to northern Florida, where I knew I probably would never see her again. I should have been admitted to a psych hospital, for between the withdrals and the pneumonia, I was so delusional, I hardly knew if I was on horseback or on foot. For if--if i happened to pass a mirror, I dared not look, as what I saw was not me, but a monster. I thank God that a dear friend stepped in to right things, dropping the incompetancy hearing against my mother, and transferring her for a psych hospital to an A.L.F., where, during her first night there, she slipped on her way to the bathroom, and broke her hip.
Luckily, my former meds wee restored sufficiently to allow me to go into hospital to be treated for the pneumonia.
I apologize for going on so long, but I will get to the point soom, I promise ! LOL
Fast forward to the present, in which any, or some, or all of my new physical ailments, and, as I hope I have mentioned, I am now on an SSDI that is less than a third of what I used to earn when I was employed. NONE of us--including retirees--have been granted a c.o.l.a, while in almost every aspect of our lives, the prices of everything have almost doubled, or more. To my electric bill hasbeen added not one, but two fuel adjustment increases; my telephone cable bill, which allows me to write this drivel to you ( a dear friend gave methis computer for my last birthday ! ).
Food and gasoline, and insurance has risen into the strosphere; as an example: I was thunderstruck when the price of a pound of butter went from $1.99 to $4.99. And since I am not 'old enough' to be eligible for any 'Senior' programs which still have funding in this County, which, by and large is 'rural/agricultural'. We are in an enormously large County, and it is a poor County, besides.
So I am denied whatever services that might exist just to help me survive now: anytime I need the yard mowed, or my laundry done, or my house straightened up, or groceries, or prescriptions that have to ne pickd up for me, as I no longer can drive, I have to pay people out of my own pocket, to the tune of whatever they tell me the price is. What choice do I have? I HAVE to have my medications, as--frankly ( and not to be assumed dramatic)--often, I think I would rather die, than have to live in unrelieved agony and despair.
Maybe I am weak-willed, or...call it what you like, but, for those of you who know exactly what complete days of unmitigated agony, and of drifting from med time to med time, even pushing the times forward sometimes in order to obtain some semblance of relief is like, even when both the constant pain AND the medications conspire to leave one listless, immobile, bereft of interest or desire, and when a kind of total mind fog, makes one careless and forgetful. And, affects relationships all around you, about which you can do little, if anything.
Gradually, that little, mostly reliable income check beame less and less able to get me through the month. I had to drop my term life insurance policy, and my car insurance, after a neighbor ( who borrowed it for work so that she and he husband could find a home away from having to live with his mother !!!!!, and who returned to car that was a wreck, andnow, one that is rusting in the driveway ), and, worst of all, I had to drop my Humana PPO as my secondary to Medicare, as when I had it, it was a breeze; I could see anyone out of network, and, eveything was paid for. Now all I have is Medicare, and Medicaid ( run by absolute morons ). So once, in going to a visit at my PM doctor ( via the County cab system, which I DO qualify for ), I neglected to bring my wallet along, and even thugh I was in major pain, and on fumes for medications I still had left, the receptionist would not allow me to see the doctor, because I could not pony up the $20.66 co-pay. All they could do for me is to call up a ride to take me home. Although I think I remained to be polite ( as this PM will as likely drop you for any infractions, sort of like elementary school ! ), inside I was seething, sad, depressed, sorry, regretful on top of the pain. While there, I died a thousand times inside, as I asked another patient in the waiting room if--perhaps--she could loan me the money, that I would pay it back; of course, she looked up, and past me, sort of smiled, but said she couldn't. And this was after my PM's assistant said my records showed that I was out of pain medication. He asked me what bank did I use, and I replied, BOA, he said, "...well, there's a BOA branch right across the street. Maybe you can get the money there."
Now...I walked into that office wearing my portable oxygen, and had difficulty walking, even with a cane; AND, I'd have to try to cross six lanes of traffic, in the rain, no less, and besides, ' Tears of Christ ', I hadn't brought my wallet along ( the PM won't take checks ), and they knew my wallet and debit card were at home.
You know, there are teaars of joy, tears of sorrow, tears of sadness, tears of loss; but there are also tears of anger. Think about it, there I was, clearly in need, yet I was turned away at the gate for a lousy $20.66. So from now on, that sum is burned into my brain. For in that brief instant my need and wont of treatment, and of those lousy little pieces of paper that are blessed prescriptions, for the first time, my medications made me beg. And will I know it isn't so, I felt like I was a junkie, pleading for the next fix. and, in a way, I was, I supppose.
Last wek, when my little check came in, I arose early to begin payiong bills, so that, by mid-afternoon of the same day in which I had goten my SSDI, I had already spent more than half of monthly income, well, actually, more than half. And a trip to the grocery store, made for me by my C.N.A. on her off day ( and by then, I was out of everything, and had presriptions to be picked up ),, I now have only about $78.00 in the checking account, and that has to last me the rest of the month ? I've already had to borrow money from a friend, and, in the past, have had to go hat in hand, to borrow money from my cousins, all of which I do sacrifice to pay back.
Several years ago, or, maybe a little longer than that, my SSDI managed to carry me through the month. Then I gradually noticed that I was broke three days from the end of the month; then, five days; then two weeks, until now, my checking account lies lifeless before me easily by the tenth of the month. I've had to ask kind persons to hold my checks until I get more money into the account, and I hat that, too. For when I was younger, and working full time, and making decent money, I had more than enough to survive on; whenever I wrote a check, it was as good as my word.
These days, I could easily use another $1,000.00 ( as..who couldn't ? LOL ) coming into the house each month; but even if it did, I would still be beneath the national poverty level, but can guarantee you that I would still be grateful for, and could use that extra grand a month, and could probably even put a fair amount of it in savings. And for you, my friends at MDJunction who have families and children, the going must be near impossible, and that, on top of your distress, suffering, and pain. To you, you have my utmost respect. You also have what strength I can lend, a ready ear, and--I hope--an open, and honest heart.
And as I most sincerely hope, that pain shared, is pain better understood, and pain better withstood. And I wish with all my heart for more well days, than ill. And I wish you peaceful, and untroubled nights; and whilst I am wishing, I wish for you serenity, strength against adversity, clarity of thought, and purpose, and that you and yours may never have to do without. I know I have gone on overlong, maybe making it impossible to read, but my feelings remain the same. And I hope they always will.
love to all,
'Zahc'
