Plan B

My brother Dave called me the other night. He’d been reading my blog and was alarmed on my behalf that I have no income. Rightly so. I’m a little bit alarmed too. Unfortunately, when he called, I was suffering from some back pain ~ apparently I pulled a muscle while sleeping. Really? How the hell does that happen? I am totally down (albeit really bored) with having MS, but back pain? No way.  Although the pain is now mostly gone (it’s easing it’s way down my leg and out my toes), it has left me a little grumpy.

Now Dave was asking me if I have a Plan B. That got me thinking, do I even have a working Plan A? I suppose it is to get approved for Federal SS disability and work part time marketing produce (which I’m finding I really enjoy), consulting with my brother-in-law on his fishing websites, the occasional wedding with Anna, and of course, the ever profitable cow headbands.

Plan B. Finding, falling and marrying a rich rancher. Winning the lottery. Discovering uranium under my floorboards. Actually Plan B looks pretty much like Plan A, only more of it. Work. Work. Work. I’ll get my piece of that 50 trillion dollars Dave, don’t you worry.

The Best Time

It’s been 10 months since I was laid off from my cushy, six figure job, that I really no longer enjoyed, nor excelled at. Despite going from $10,000 per month to $0 per month income, I am having the best time!

I think it’s because I am learning again, so consequently I feel energized and engaged in my life. Granted, it can be a little scary some days, but due to good planning on my part (I surprised even myself) I still have some time before I need to move into my car.

Writing this blog has proven to be one of my favorite activities. In just one month I’ve had over 725 unique visitors (that’s pretty darn good!) and am now rated on Alexa.com at 18,279,024. Google better watch out~ I’m coming up from behind! Lisa is encouraging me to monetize and has sent me some very interesting and exciting articles on how to do that, so check in early and often please to keep those traffic numbers growing!

In addition to blogging and making headbands with Anna, I’m also writing for some friend’s websites (construction and real estate). Anna and I are doing floral arrangements for a wedding next weekend in California. My good friend V. from Nogales is teaching me about produce marketing which I’m finding really fun ~ it’s a nice change from microphones. That being said, one of my old partners in crime is looking into some opportunities he might have available for me back in the music/pro audio world; and my brother in law wants to tap into some of my advertising brain power for his commercial fishing websites.

See? Doesn’t that sound way more fun than doing the same job year after year for a big, feckless corporation that changes management like the oil in your car? As I’ve said before, with the global economy worth somewhere in the neighborhood of 50 trillion USD (that’s $50,000,000,000,000) snagging a little piece of it to cover my ass-ets doesn’t seem too daunting now, does it?

As I Hirple Along, Singing a Song: Updates on Cows, Disability, Unemployment and More….

I was just reading some past posts and figured anyone following this blog must be dying for some follow up info, so:

1. 10 cow headbands almost drove Anna mad. She made them, she grumbled, and now we’ve gotten  an order for monkey headbands. I kid you not. The good news is the horseheads sold, as did 8 others in addition to the custom order cow headbands, so now we are both getting ready to retire. Monkey headbands, really? This is the gravy order, no doubt.

2. The follow up to the solu-medrol is a new prescription for a muscle relaxant called Baclofen which apparently is specifically for MS patients who hirple. I just started it and will post as I progress…but I think it might be working already ~ I WALKED .60 MILES TODAY with only a walking stick! This is huge and I am happy!

3. Arizona sent me a letter confirming that I cannot get unemployment as I am disabled. Huh. Ok, so with no Fed decision yet, I am getting exactly ZERO help from any of the entities that I have paid into for 35 years. Something feels very wrong with this system.

4. Believe it or not, I found fresh Dungeness crab at the Tubac Market last night and as it is one of my favorite things in life, I bought one as a treat. Last night was the famous Lopez red sauce with a baguette and sauteed spinach, tonight is a carrot soup with Dungee crab…can’t wait for this! In the process I found this really cool food blog. Here is the recipe: http://butterpluscream.blogspot.com/2010/02/carrot-soup-with-dungeness-crab.html

News from Bedrock

I’ve been staying with Anna and Chad over the last week in California as I had appointments both with Dr. G for more bladder stuff, and Dr. S for a check up post solu-medrol infusion in November.  Yesterday morning on my last day there, I was sleeping dreamily in their very comfortable guest bed when my cell phone rang. It was an Arizona number that I didn’t recognize, so I picked it up with a sleepy “hello”.

“EL-LO? EL-LO? AIR-EEK-HA?” Oh my god. It was Dr. S from Tucson, the creepy Dr. who gave me the social security disability exam. WTF does he want? He talks like Fred Flinstone with a thick accent (Spanish or Mexican). Imagine Fred letting the cat out and getting locked out and yelling “WHEELMA! WHEELMA!” and you get the idea. Then he adds “OHHH, OHHH, UMMM” at the end of each statement. And as is hopefully conveyed by the ALL CAPS, he talks really loudly. Yet, he doesn’t listen at all.

He goes on to yell at me that I had promised to send him previous MRI reports and accuse me of not sending them. I informed him that, indeed, I had had them faxed over the very next day. “I DIDN’T GET THEM. THEY ARE NOT HERE ANYWHERE.” I reiterate that they were sent over that very next day.”OHHHH, OHHHH, WELL I LOOK FOR THEM. NO THEY ARE NOT HERE.”

Now, in addition to waking up in this alarming manner, I am also disturbed by the news that he has not sent in the report to the SS administration. I spoke with someone there last week who informed me that they had all the necessary information and would be making a decision by February 15. Based on what I wonder?

I inform Dr S. that I will have them faxed over again. “YOU DON’T HAVE THEM? OHHHH, UMMM. YOUR DOCTOR IN CAL-E-FORN-E-A HAS THEM? UMMM. OHHHH. YOU DON’T HAVE THEM?”

I’m rolling my eyes until they’re about to fall out of my head and gritting my teeth so hard they’re about to pop out too. This guy is bad for my face.

My beloved neurologist Dr. S. in Pasadena has the reports, so again I call his office and ask to have them resent, which is handled quickly, professionally, and quietly. I confirm Dr. S. in Tucson has received them. So now I wait.

Yabba dabba do!

Bladder Blog #1 ~ Not for the Faint of Heart

I Googled this phrase…I thought it was feint of heart, but turns out it is faint of heart. At any rate…..

Warning: If you aren’t used to doctors poking around in your orifices or are in the least bit squeamish about these things, then skip this post. This one is written most specifically for my MS brethren who have suffered the indignities of medical procedures and have given up all hope of retaining any sense of modesty since we started having our brains x-rayed. If the idea of having an airport security body scan bothers you, move along.

Incontinence. How embarrassing can it get? People telling jokes about Depends that we only give a curt smile to and then move on (I actually know a funny one, but maybe another time). It is high on the list of  MS symptoms and almost everyone I’ve ever met with MS shares this inconvenience with me. (If you’re daring enough to be reading this after my warning, I have news. Chances are running pretty high that even you will be personally interested in this topic someday).

I’ve been seeing my urologist, Dr. David G., for about 8 years. He’s a handsome blade, very suave (I’ve never been able to figure out how you can combine suave and urology, but he has), and cutting edge in his affiliation with USC. Over the years we tried Detrol to control the urgency, which worked up to a point, but I was still wearing a pad. Then one visit after an ultrasound he pronounced that I was not voiding completely ~ oh for god’s sake, really? What does that even mean? Well in his Dr. words, my bladder was a cess pool. EWWWW!!!!! Solution! Please! Now!

Fuck. The solution? Catheterizing. When I was very first diagnosed I bought a book on MS that was written by all these very “evolved” women who called it the MonSter (oh, so clever) and I hated them and the book because they gave their condition so much power. Nevertheless, they talked about having to self catheter and I thought NO WAY that is the worst EVER! Hell will freeze before I ever do that!

Hell froze over.

I was not only peeing in my pants every 5 seconds, but it was because I was only ever “topping off”. The only solution to empty the old B was to catheter. Holy crap. I went in and had a lesson (I am not making this up ~ can you imagine that being your job?) and glumly went home with my new “gear” and cried and cried and practiced and cried.

I remember going to San Diego not long after to meet up with Lisa and her family who were down from Seattle on holiday. She, being my number one go to rock, suggested I show her how it was done. My wonderful sister sat with me in a hotel room while I demonstrated my new found skill and held me while I cried, laughed with me at the absurdity of it all, and as per usual, was a beacon of strength and inspiration to me. My sister, as they say, is the bomb.

Believe it or not, this is just the beginning of the bladder story. There are more installments of the bladder blog, but it’s getting late. Why don’t you all go have a pee and we’ll reconvene tomorrow.

Moo!

Not sure if it’s post holiday blahs or what, but feeling a general sense of malaise and ennui the last few days. Perhaps I’m still just gnashing my teeth over the feeling of violation by Dr. S. Per his request, I had the reports of my last first and last MRIs (2002 and 2008) sent over to him, so we’ll wait and see what my verdict is.

I’ve been spending my time doing some writing for a couple of web sites and making felt creations to sell at my friend’s studio. Anna made a bunch of money over the holidays, so I’m stealing her ideas and creating  headbands with little felt flower designs on them. I made $40 in one day, so I think we’re on to something here.

One lady bought a headband with a cat design on it and then requested one with a horse head on it. Oh, shit. A horse head? Really? I sent that request over to Anna and she came up with the most fabulous design. I showed that to another woman, who then said, “Oh I love it! Can she make me a cow? I’ll take 10 of them.”

So California can throw me under the bus, Arizona can kick me to the curb why they decide what to do with me, SSD can wind me up and send me in circles ~ but damn it ~ I’ll show them all up and survive by living on felt cow headbands.

Criminal Mind

I drove to an urgent care center on the south side of Tucson today to meet with Dr. S for my physical eligibility interview for SS disability. Kind of weird, but whatever.

He was an older man of Hispanic descent. Sort of a bad toupee type wearing brogans and a striped shirt. We share some discourse on how long I’ve had MS, how it affects me, symptoms, side effects, medications, etc.

He proceeds to ask me why I moved to Tubac. I don’t know, needed a change, ready to get out of LA, blah, blah. What did I do exactly? Why did I move to Tubac, again?

I begin to feel a little bit uncomfortable. What f’ing difference does it make why I moved to Tubac? He gets this sort of Dr. God attitude and continues to question me like I’m there on a murder rap or something, yet at the same time like he’s a serial peeping Tom, undressing me with his eyes.

It totally creeped me out. Where does Lopez come from? Why’d you get divorced? You never remarried? How old are your children? Do they live with you? Do they have boyfriends? Are you a grandmother yet? It makes no sense you left LA. Why’d you move to Tubac again?

Maybe as a State employed examiner, he is suspect of people applying for disability. I felt like he should work for the TSA ~ you know those guys that stare you straight in the eye while they open your suitcase and fondle your underwear for contraband. C-R-E-E-P-Y.

I am not a criminal for pete’s sake. I am a solid tax payer with a few bad genes and I need and deserve some help, that I have paid for!

I came home and took a shower. It infuriates me that this bitter man (who obviously wishes he lived in Tubac!?) holds the keys to my financial future and lords it over me with a smirk and inappropriate prodding questions….argh! I am mad as a wet hen. I do not think I should feel totally violated from a physical examination (which thankfully I did not have to undress for!) regarding the level of my disability.

Along with the summons for the exam was a service evaluation. Bring it on!

Smarter Than a 5th Grader

As I’ve said before, I’m applying for SS disability. Everyone from my friends to my own Dr. have told me it won’t go through the first time, and that I’ll need to get a lawyer and appeal. Ah, America. Sigh. Believe me, if this thing could get cured, I’d be the first person in line to shred the application.

Anyway, about 2 weeks ago I went in for my mental exam. Similar to my sense of playing pretend during the physical exam, this consisted of playing with blocks, counting backwards and naming the current president.

The oddest thing was, when Dr. M opened her mouth and said hello, I started to cry. I am not a crier. I can see baby seals being clubbed on TV and be outraged. I can have my heart broken and drink whiskey. I can read about tsunami victims and send money. In my day to day life, I buck up. I am a bucker-upper.

So what the hell was this all about? I hadn’t even told her the name of the president yet, and here I was crying. Not a drop or two, but a full on Kleenex/not able to talk/hiccuping kind of a cry. The Dr. handed me the box of tissues and asked if this was normal behavior. I should say not!

When I was able to talk it all came pouring out. Being at a disability exam is down right humiliating. I don’t want to be disabled. I repeat. I don’t want to be disabled. Like renting the scooter, this was another landmark event bringing it all home. This time, in addition to being plain mad, I allowed myself to be sad for a change. I dipped my toe into the pity party pool for a few minutes and, truth be told, it felt good.

It didn’t last. I can’t feel too sorry for myself. When I think of all the poor baby seals and broken hearts and tsunami victims I recognize that I don’t have it so bad. I found out after spelling my name backwards and defining “foreboding” that I am still smarter than a 5th grader, and THAT is something to hang on to.

Today I am headed off for the physical side of the SSD exam. Doubtful if this time I’ll tear up, more than likely I’ll just hirple the hallway under the Dr.’s watchful eye and hopefully get a bad enough score on my gait to exempt me from future lawyers and appeals. Stay tuned.

State of Mind

The State of California has totally thrown me under the bus. I calculate that I have paid in the neighborhood of over $50,000 in income taxes over the past 10 years and have lived and worked there for most of my life. I’m 53, have been working for 35 of those years in California, and even not being very good with math, can figure out I’ve given the State a lot of money.

So when my 26 weeks of unemployment ran out, what did they do? They denied my extension and threw me over to Arizona where I now reside. Bless little Arizona, they are at best a poor cousin to their next door neighbor. I’m not surprised at the disparity…..honestly, Arizona charged me about 1/3 the amount for a drivers license as California and it’s good for like 20 years or something. No wonder they’re broke!

There are no physical UE offices here, so it all must be done by internet.  Ok, no problem. The online application asks some questions such as “have you worked out of state in the last 18 months”. I answer yes and am prompted to call in. I slogged through the phone system and finally got to an unemployment agent, and he was as nice as could be. Friendly with all the time in the world. After we discussed the SF Giants winning the 2010 World Series and his inherent dislike of the LA Dodgers because his parents were originally from SF and that’s such an age old rivalry even though he now lives in Arizona and is a Diamondbacks fan, he explained that I must file online.  I explained that the online prompts to me to call this number.  He explained back to me that I can’t file a claim without a PIN that can only be established online. Wow.

He gave me some super secret information which I will not divulge publicly here (I told him I had rooted for the Giants too, that must have done it), and I was in the system. So then I crawled back into the mire of the telephone system and waited and waited (and waited…and waited) until the next super nice agent came on. She and I had a nice long conversation about her niece who has MS and how her disability application was coming along, and how her aunt (the niece’s mom) got disability for just knee surgery and diabetes, not even anything like MS, yet the niece had been denied twice already.

I felt I was making good progress and it had only taken me about 3 hours so far. This nice lady filled out my application for me and told me it would take a few days for them to decide if I was approved or not, and I would find out by mail. Then a one week waiting period, and if things went well I could expect to start receiving a weekly check.

As you can no doubt ascertain from the amount of taxes I paid California, I was making some pretty good money back in the day. California pays out a pretty healthy weekly benefit…Arizona, not so much.

So now I have a new challenge. There are billions and billions of dollars in the global economy, and I need some of them. It’s time again to recreate myself and my wealth. Rule number one, be open to suggestions. I have some of my own nuggets, but anyone else have any ideas?