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I just got a letter saying my application for long-term disability has been approved, and will be payable for as long as I "remain permanently disabled for the further performance of [my] usual occupation until the point at which [I] would have qualified for an unreduced service retirement allowance under the retirement system had [I] been able to continue employment." About which I have mixed feelings, as discussed earlier. I mean, it is a relief to know that I can afford to pay rent and such while I finish school. If I tried to live on just this, it'd be a tight thing, but damn, it's a huge help. Still, there's that whole "disabled" label thing. And the guilty feeling that I should not need this, and I should not take it, and I should be able to work and deal like everyone else. Except, remember when I was so excited a day or two ago because I have 8-10 days a month without a migraine? Still true. So maybe I shouldn't feel guilty. Or maybe I should just get a grip.
On a more sobering note, I talked to Mother a couple of days ago. They were worried about me trying to squeeze in a trip home over Thanksgiving, so that's one less thing to feel guilty about, which is always a good thing. The sobering part, though, is that they came home last Saturday and I talked to her on Sunday, and she said Daddy is "still a little confused." As in, she wants him to use the bathroom that connects to their bedroom instead of the one down the hall, becuase she thinks the big opening from the hall to the LR/DR might be too disorienting. She also said they have given him a gadget to help hold the toes of his left foot up so they don't drag and trip him. Apparently, no one has expressed any concern about this to Mother, but Amy mentioned that she's never heard of that as an aftereffect of hip replacement. Those two things together make me concerned that he may have had a mild stroke (or maybe not so mild, if he can't lift his toes up.) When Mother was in the hospital and rehab a few years ago she said she was "too weak" to write and had to print at first, then learned to write again. I thought at the time that sounded like a stroke, but no one mentioned it to her, or else she didn't remember it. Recently, though, she mentioned something about having had a stroke or strokes then. So I'm not totally convinced that their beloved Dr Gillespie, fox though he is, is always totally on top of things, or maybe just not totally open with them. Or they could not understand, I suppose, though they tend to try to keep up with stuff. It concerns me. And there's not a damned thing I can do about it.
So. Dishes await. Later!
On a more sobering note, I talked to Mother a couple of days ago. They were worried about me trying to squeeze in a trip home over Thanksgiving, so that's one less thing to feel guilty about, which is always a good thing. The sobering part, though, is that they came home last Saturday and I talked to her on Sunday, and she said Daddy is "still a little confused." As in, she wants him to use the bathroom that connects to their bedroom instead of the one down the hall, becuase she thinks the big opening from the hall to the LR/DR might be too disorienting. She also said they have given him a gadget to help hold the toes of his left foot up so they don't drag and trip him. Apparently, no one has expressed any concern about this to Mother, but Amy mentioned that she's never heard of that as an aftereffect of hip replacement. Those two things together make me concerned that he may have had a mild stroke (or maybe not so mild, if he can't lift his toes up.) When Mother was in the hospital and rehab a few years ago she said she was "too weak" to write and had to print at first, then learned to write again. I thought at the time that sounded like a stroke, but no one mentioned it to her, or else she didn't remember it. Recently, though, she mentioned something about having had a stroke or strokes then. So I'm not totally convinced that their beloved Dr Gillespie, fox though he is, is always totally on top of things, or maybe just not totally open with them. Or they could not understand, I suppose, though they tend to try to keep up with stuff. It concerns me. And there's not a damned thing I can do about it.
So. Dishes await. Later!
