Crankenstein and I were on opposite ends of the sofa at 6:45 this evening, Muriel between us, when we heard the mailman push something through the slot near the door. Once Muriel had completed her customary growling and stern warning barks, I got up to grab it — our daily USPS Informed Delivery email had contained a preview of a medical bill I wanted to pay right away. It was there, all $32 of it, along with a surprise: a thick manila envelope from Disability Determination Services, addressed to Crankenstein.
She opened it and frowned as she read the instructions: “Please return by August 15th.” It was a third-party adult function report containing an eight-page questionnaire. Her answers would provide insight into my capabilities and limitations. That she was being given the bum’s rush about something this detailed was odd: I’d been afforded a few days longer to fill out my own report months ago, though it’s currently unclear whether it was received. And why hadn’t it appeared even once in an Informed Delivery notification?
The discarded envelope bore an August 5th postmark, which only raised more questions. How had it taken nine days for the postal service to deliver a letter sent from an office maybe 20 minutes away from our house? This was the sort of needless obstacle I’d criticized in last night’s post — we had no idea it was coming or what the consequences might’ve been had the letter been lost or arrived any later. Is that any way to treat a process as important as determining financial benefits for ill and injured workers?
Fortunately, Crankenstein was able to set aside her own work to fill it out, which took around 90 minutes of her time.* When she was done, I scanned the pages to PDF, the only file format my lawyer can upload through her Social Security portal, and submitted it to her. (You can scan to PDF from a smartphone if you don’t have a scanner, it’ll just take more time if you don’t have nimble hands. The library’s also a great resource for scanning, printing, and saving or sending files.) This took up most of our night and will almost certainly be for naught since it’s quite rare to be approved at the reconsideration level, but at least it’s out of the way.
The annual MDS checkup is also done, and at the end of the appointment my doctor asked if we’d rather switch to every six months. Had Crankenstein piped up first, I think she would’ve opted for that. My preference was to keep it yearly for now since we see each other quarterly for Botox. I’m too superstitious to say things went well — I’d rather wait and make sure the notes back that up — but we were both relieved that my doctor agreed sleep deprivation could be a serious factor when it comes to my recent absentmindedness.** Before we get too concerned about those changes we’re going to work on improving my sleep.
I’ll explain more about that (and the rest of the appointment) later. And no, I haven’t abandoned the review I wanted to post this week, but it might be delayed again tomorrow because of another appointment: it’s time to fix the molar I broke with my overnight jaw-clenching and teeth-grinding. First up is a consultation, and if the quote’s too high I’ll get at least one more. In a kinder parallel universe, I could’ve been at the Cincinnati Open today rather than cataloging my physical and mental deficiencies for a neurologist and wincing in anticipation of dental bills and GI scopes.
* At no point did I call her “a stupid f*cking trick,” since I didn’t want to distract her, but she should know it took all of my restraint. It’s an insult that was enshrined in our vocabulary almost 10 years ago, when she was berated — as a resident — by someone who unsuccessfully tried to intimidate her into signing a disability form or letter. Even now, I sometimes ask “Were you a stupid f*cking trick today or did you behave yourself?” when asking about her workday.
** Apathy could also be involved, but we hope not because my doctor warned that apathy is the most difficult Parkinson’s symptom to treat.