Thursday, July 28, 2011


It's as simple as that. That one single word. Those 3 syllables describe how I'm feeling in every single fiber of my being.
For the second time in two years I am putting my life in someone else's hands. No this time, it's not a doctor. It's not life threatening and I wont die. But it's still my life, in someone else's hands. This time, a judges.
I wasn't this scared the first time I put my life in another's hands. No that was easy. It was a matter of life and death. The surgeon saved my life. I wasn't scared of death, death is easy. It's life that's hard.
This judge gets to decide if he will make my life a little bit easier, a little less scary. Or if he is going to let it stay terrifyingly hard. He has the choice to grant me disability or not.
He has the choice of giving me a fighting chance. Of letting me get insurance and paying off the over half a million in OHS debt. He has the chance of allowing me to get my pills without worrying how I'll buy food. And being able to make doctors appointments. He has the chance of giving me a life. Maybe I'll finally be able to live on my own.
But he also has a chance of keeping my life the way it is. No insurance, no money. Trying to work, but not being able to. Of it being pure hell at times. Choosing between food or pills.

My lawyer called and questioned me a bit, coaching me on how to phrase my answers. And it absolutely terrified me. What if I say something wrong? What if I ruin this for myself. I don't know if I can answer those questions the right way. I don't do well with public speaking. I'm so scared.

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