Beneficent Benefits and Bounteous Bull**it

The morning - from 7:30 to 11:45 am - was spent at various resource offices, both state and federal, in what felt like a futile attempt to file for SSA Disability benefits, Medicaid, state assistance for subsidized housing, and prescription drug assistance.  Assistance doesn't mean FREE.  The amount of aid is directly related to one's income.

I don't know if anything positive will result, I know that I am not eligible for at least one of the programs, but I gave it a good shot and didn't fudge the truth. Evidently, truth is a rare commodity these days. There was a visible wince when I answered "yes" when asked if I had a savings account.  If I didn't have that backup, I'd be homeless at the moment.

Food stamps and/or food subsidy were not being applied for, but that seemed to make no difference. I was given the address of a number of food banks in the area, but no one seemed to understand that I didn't need food and it would be unlikely that I could eat much of the foodstuffs due to the Neutropenia.  Maybe they don't know what it is because that information fell on deaf ears. 

Tunnel-vision was the order of the day for these people; having repeated my tale of woe at least 6 times, I was ready to implode. The last person to bring up the fucking food banks got more than she bargained for. I leaned closer to the polished, wide desk and looked directly into her face and told her to listen to my words - carefully.  There is no interest in hand-outs or free food on my part. I then ticked off the primary reasons for my being in her office. 

I explained very quickly what Neutropenia is and why the food basket wasn't even a consideration at the moment. I opened the file folder containing the medical reports, hospital stay dates, medications, lab results, transfusions, and the smaller folder from the hospital labelled "stem cell transplant program" spread it out before her.

Slowly, ever so slowly, a tiny spark of recognition crossed her wrinkled brow and she shut up about the damned food banks.  It was finally determined that I may actually be eligible for prescription assistance.  Evidently having a savings account doesn't matter in this case.

I had no idea a savings account and owning a car could prove detrimental. There is no mass transit system here.  One needs transportation to get around. If I lived in NYC I could walk everywhere, or hop a subway.  But…if I had a boat, I'd go rowing, too.

Too much to deal with, no logical answers, and nothing made much sense.  I left the last interview feeling like I'd been kicked down several flights of stairs.  Exhausted, and more confused about benefits than when I first arrived.  

As I drove back toward town I decided to stop by the restaurant to be with real people, if that makes any sense. I couldn't bring myself to come back home with all that crazy sloshing around it my skull. So, I spent some time training a new person (part-time host) to prepare the daily seating chart, use the Open Table reservation computer, and match up the servers with their new sections for the day.  Seeing everyone and doing the training took my mind off the morning madness and calmed me down. ( I REALLY want to go back to work.  Really and truly, I do.) 

Never mind. I enjoyed a light lunch when I got home, then set aside the sheets of various phone numbers I am to call to set up appointments with other agencies that may be helpful. I'll call them on Monday.  I've had enough crazy for one week, thank you very much. 

Everything is in Limbo now and G*d knows what the outcome might be. All they can say is "NO!" and I'm no better or worse off then when I started out today.  

Now, ain't that a happy thought!

And so it goes.
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