What The Hell Do People Think Of Me?

Have you guys heard of Wish.com? I promise this isn't a sponsored post or anything, it's just that lately their ads seem to be infiltrating my Facebook news feed. And what I really don't understand, is why, in an era where ads are usually targeted to a specific audience, does Wish.com think that I want to buy a bunch of... I really don't even know what to call it.

It also worries me a bit that whatever I'm doing on my phone, has led Wish to think that I am the kind of person who would need any of this stuff...

Like this for example:

What is this? Some kind of leg brace you wear to go clubbing? Complete with ventilation hole for your fat, that makes you look like you have a giant blister in need of medical attention? Do I dress like this and was just unaware?

When My Health Issues Landed Me In Court (Part 2)

And we are back for part two! Recapping Part One (which you should read first if you haven't already done so), I'd been diagnosed with a rare medical disorder, my husband had left me, I lost my social security disability case, I had to go back to work so that I could feed my children, my health prevented me from working full time, and then I found out that my attorney had my denial overturned, and my case was headed back to court.

Yep, that pretty much sums it up. Moving on:

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It had been YEARS since I'd lost my court case! And I had no idea that my attorney had filed an appeal; I didn't even know that was possible. I was so completely caught up in pulling my life back together after my husband's disappearance, that I had somehow missed everything that had been going on with my case behind the scenes.

“I don’t think I am going to win” I told my attorney. “I’ve been working because I had no choice, I’ve been going to the gym because it's the only thing I can think of to keep my health from getting worse, and I dance when I have a good day. I'm not even taking the pain pills that the doctor prescribes me because I need to be clear headed enough to drive my kids around. I'm doing so much, that no one is going to believe how sick I actually am.”

“Just come to court” he told me, “and tell the judge the truth.”

So I did.

I explained why I was working, and how I cared for my children. I talked about the doctor appointments, the prognosis, and I answered more questions than I was expecting to have thrown at me. I sat there and listened to the judge and my attorney argue over my medical files, read reports from state appointed doctors, and I heard testimony from a state hired vocational expert on how my health would affect my job opportunities.

I felt what I always feel in court; removed from the situation, and protected by a layer of PTSD that keeps me from having to emotionally absorb what is going on.

The judge didn't make a decision that day, and it was three months before a letter from the social security office arrived in my mailbox.

I remember pulling it out of the box, and the air being sucked out of my lungs with it. Taking it inside, I sat on the couch and turned it over and over again in my hands; trying to will myself to open it, but not sure what it's contents might mean for my life.

When My Health Issues Landed Me In Court

Several months ago, before I got pregnant, I found myself sitting in the examination room of a spine doctor.

I really, really, really, did not want to be there.

The doctor was taking a really, really, really, long time to come in and examine me, and there was a mirror in front of me... which kept me entertained for the nearly two hours I waited, by taking selfies while wearing what I can only equate to a blue paper towel.