Permanent without a Plan

As you know, recently I learned that my disability was permanent. I have realized that the term “permanent” does and does not have value. For example, because my doctors have told me that my disability is permanent, the Disability Provider agreed to extend my approval for another 12 months. To me that is valuable. Where the label loses its luster is when we look at the future. The next 12 months are “taken care of” as much as they can be given the circumstances. But, what about the future? What about my future? What about Gage’s future? What about OUR future?



Those of you who know me know that I want children – somehow. However, no matter how many times I shake it, the crystal ball does not reveal whether or not the pitter-patter of little ones will ever enter The Dodson hallways. Realistically, I know that I need to be pain-managed for some time before we consider adopting, fostering or re-visiting biologically having children. Realistically, I also know that we need to have some sort of financial security before we also adopt, foster or give birth. The first part (if I can actually learn to manage my pain) is, without a doubt a wait-and-see situation. The latter (whether we are financially capable of providing for children); however, should not be. I am thirty-one years old. I have two degrees, three minors and two teaching certificates that never expire. I am a highly-qualified career woman who is unable to physically hold a career. Because of my disability, I truly do not have a clue as to if I should get excited and hopeful about children, or whether I should grieve the loss and move on…



Those of you who know me also know that I really want to move into a house. Don’t get me wrong, I love where I live. My two-family-flat is beyond adorable. I have lived here long enough that every wall has the perfect picture and every piece of furniture fits nicely in its own space. I adore my neighbors. I love the location. I am a South City gal all the way! Realistically, there is not a rush to move until we make the decision about to have or to not have children. Realistically, our current home houses enough space for Gage, Lady and I. However, the largest thing holding us back is that we cannot move forward in purchasing a house until we can apply for a loan and actually have the answer to the question: What is your annual household income? In 12 months, I may not have Disability Provision. In 12 months, we may not be able to afford a house at all. Or, we could, and we would have waited these 12 months to house-hunt for nothing…



I was talking to a good friend, celebrating the good news about the Disability Approval when I also realized its trap. I already spend hours and hours each week attending doctor appointments, completing evaluations and filling out “continuing approval” paperwork. Just today, one of the key medications that have helped me towards this “pain-managing” journey was almost NOT approved by my Insurance Company. After two phone calls yesterday and FOUR calls today, I finally got it approved. But was all that really necessary? The Disability Provider also keeps demanding that I contact the Social Security Office to see if, even though I have been a teacher all of my adult career-life (therefore, I have NEVER paid into social security), SS will supply some supplemental income (then The Disability Provider can provide me less money - Good for them, right?). Because I am an honest woman, I am on the hunt for this information from SS. I also am applying for Medicaid and researching independent insurance companies, applying for those as I find them. With all of these daily have-tos, it is as if I have a full-time job being on Disability!



While I do not deny that getting the 12-month extension and approval for Disability has been a huge blessing and relief, today as I sat on the phone for over sixty minutes with one call, I realized that this gift came with a price. I wish I could just close my eyes, shake my crystal ball and see my new home with my babies. I wish I knew if either of these dreams will ever be my reality. I wish upon a star that this June was next June so that I could start the real first day of the rest of my life. Until then, I know that I will do what I can to enjoy these next 12 months. I will work on my book. I will continue to write my blog. I will soon enough figure out my health insurance for August and the Social Security question. I will soon enough be approved or denied for Medicaid. And, if I am patient, one day I will own a house. One day I will either be a mother, or a really good aunt. Until then, I’ll keep juggling this crystal ball…