Two months to the day of getting a letter from Social Security stating that I was being cut off because I am "recovered and able to work," I get another letter stating that my disability case has been reviewed and my disability will continue. I did start an appeal but never did get another appointment for reevaluation. Just yesterday I got the "Welcome to Medicare" package, which I thought was ironic, since I was supposedly cut off. But today, I get the letter from the other side of the agency, saying I would stay on their rolls for the time being.
It is a load off of my mind, although it doesn't speak well to my condition. I wish I had recovered and could enjoy this time, but that's not the case. In a day, I get so little accomplished, I'm barely surviving. Even writing seems pointless. Who will care enough to read this stuff? And what possible story could I write that would be any better? If I could write a better story for myself, wouldn't I be living it already? I can't even envision anything different, let alone enact changes or engage in a constructive process.
Simply documenting my decay is too tiresome, so I may just quit writing altogether. It was the only thing that made me feel like I had a purpose, but as days go by and my energy fades, I see it as a pointless routine. Maybe I'll check in once in a while, as a milestone is passed, or if something gives me enough of a burden that I must unload it. But it's not really that therapeutic bitching into the ether. The ether is so unresponsive. So, bye for now.
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I've changed my comments settings to allow for anyone to comment. All comments are welcome, even spineless potshots from anonymous posters. Please, by all means, give me the tongue lashing I so richly deserve. I promise not to hunt you down and melt your keyboard with my plasma cannon. I won't, however, promise not to pout and make that face you can't stand.