10.10.2007 - Judgment Day

I filed my application for Social Security disability benefits in December 2005, beginning a struggle lasting 22 months, however I could not have been less prepared for what happened when I entered the hearing room last Wednesday, October 10 and sat before the judge for my disability review and adjudication. Feeling a combination of fear and isolation as I sat down at the table with a microphone in front of me, my attorney Alex Boudov seated to my right, to Alex’s right sat the stenographer, to her right sat the bailiff and seated before all of us behind his bench above us was the judge. This judge held the absolute power to grant or deny those benefits for which I had rightfully pursued since my combined disabilities had forced me to “retire” from any and all “normal” work I could ever do. Did I mention I was terrified? I used fear and isolation to describe my mental state, but upon reflection I think it’s better described as terror.

On Tuesday night, I broke down and cried. I had not heard from or spoken to my attorney so I had no clue about how my case would be argued. All I could do was grip the thick files containing my application and subsequent paperwork sent to Social Security and the medical documents collected by me dating back to my childhood Perthes condition. My poor fiancée Laura had to console me, which was a lot to ask of her considering my state and also because she was herself going through a flood of emotions about the hearing. Laura had stood by me, supported me, loved me and was actually the first person to battle with me over pursuing my benefits. Hell knows I didn’t want to go after them. I had lived in denial about my disabilities and had in fact taken jobs that I might have certainly been better off physically not ever working. So, this battle was as much Laura’s fight as mine.

My insomnia that keeps me up on an average until two or three in the morning coupled with my nervousness over the hearing kept me wide awake until I forced myself to lie down at 2:45 a.m. Laura was asleep but her warm body and our kitty Thea, who had leapt onto our bed and laid down on my chest, relaxed me enough to finally fall asleep. When I woke at 6 a.m. I began preparing for the hearing now three hours and forty-five minutes away. Laura took the day off to drive me and be with me for support. We arrived at the offices of adjudication and review at the required time of 9:15 a.m. It was in the lobby of the offices where I finally met my attorney Alex Boudov. He was professional in appearance and character. I was instantly put at ease. I sat down with Boudov in a conference room and he succinctly told me what to expect from the judge. His exact words were “He’s a no-nonsense judge. He determines many of his cases by ‘reading’ the applicants.” Well, this was something that both encouraged and terrified me. Historically when someone heard my story face-to-face it had a positive effect on whether they believe someone of my age could be so disabled. On the other hand, this fact put the onus on me to deliver the truth and believe that I could explain the complexity of my medical conditions in a coherent way.

In November 2006 I sat in front of a judge who reviewed my disability status for state benefits, and at that hearing I was able to have Laura and other friends present at the hearing. It was an enormous help having Laura actually there, literally holding my hand. No such luck at the Social Security hearing. My attorney had left us to attend another hearing and when he came back he asked me to follow him, that it was time for my hearing. Laura rose with me and then the attorney told both of us that Laura couldn’t go in, unless the judge wanted additional testimony. So, Laura gave me a kiss and I followed Boudov to the other side of the floor and entered the hearing room.

Once I sat, there was a period of silence which lasted I’m sure no longer than two minutes. Of course, to me it felt as if it were an hour or more. In that time, my mind ran through a list of facts, events and names of medications which might or might not be asked for by the judge. It was a jumble in my head and I couldn’t organize them no matter what. That’s the downsize of my having spent time over the last two years making copies of each and every slip of paper pertaining to my case and my medical records. Hole-punching and placing all that information into Pendaflex file folders allowed my mind to be at least partially free of having to keep it all in my consciousness. But now, without those files in front of me, copies of which were being held by my attorney and the judge, it was going to have to come entirely out of my own head. Could I remember it all?

The judge’s first spoken words were “The time is 9:55 a.m. on October 10th, 2007. Present are the claimant and his representative,” he then took roll call to which both my attorney and I said we were present. His first order to me was, “Please rise and say after me, ‘Do you swear under oath that the information you give will the truth and the whole truth so help you God?’” I stood with the help of my cane and responded, “I do.” To which he then said, “Please be seated.” Once the judge asked me my name he asked me when I last worked. I answered, “December 2, 2005.” He asked me why I quit at that time and I described how my disabilities were out of my control, that without the assistance of my doctors and their unwillingness to treat it I had become suicidal and unable to mentally and physically perform my duties.

The judge was more attentive than I could have hoped for. Not only was he but his staff present in the room also seemed to be focused on my story, which under the judge’s questions led to me telling my lifelong experience with my disabilities. I explained how my childhood condition affected me throughout my life and how I worked for decades not to reveal my condition and never asked for any kind of help or assistance. I said that it was my mother and Laura who pushed me to apply for disability benefits and that it was when I realized I would rather be dead than suffer the humiliation and resistance I was facing from my doctors I decided it was time to pursue my benefits.

The final question asked by the judge was if the medications I was on now were making me comfortable. I had to think a moment because, once again, I had to find a way to explain in a coherent way the level of discomfort and at times comfort I felt with the long list of combined medications: methodone, difcloneac, Lyrica, Cymbalta, ibuprofen, lidocaine patches and hydroxychloroquine. The best explanation I could give the judge was that on the pain level scale of 1 to 10, I average a level of 5 to 7 on a good day, bad days it is always a 10. I explained that if I took the amount of medication required to completely negate the pain, I was could be unconscious most of the day. I said that the only position I can spend most of the day in when I don’t feel any intense pain was reclining or lying. I added that sitting was just as painful after 10 minutes as was walking or standing, for which the time allowed before intense pain was now less than 5 minutes.

At this point, the judge sort of interrupted me, and said that based on the medical records which he had already reviewed and my testimony he determined I was incapable of working at the present time and therefore granted me full disability benefits.

Huh?

Based on the medical records which he had already reviewed and my testimony he determined I was incapable of working at the present time and therefore granted me full disability benefits.

No…no…I heard it when he said it! I was there! But writing it down for the first time affects me the same way I was affected when the judge first pronounced it. I AM STUNNED! My two year battle is over! Don’t get me wrong, I realize that once I receive the formal written letter from the judge, which includes according to my attorney a form to be filled out regarding my benefits and settlement, I will be facing a whole new period of challenges to make sure I get everything in a timely manner and that a struggle may ensue with bureaucracy in order to keep my benefits coming in a timely manner. Regardless of what lies ahead, I have won the recognition and benefits promised to me by an America which views my minority group as the least valued and least recognized members of society.

Bottom line: I WON!!!!

What shocked me most and brought tears to my eyes, which made me realize why there was a box of Kleenex next to the microphone in front of me, was that a determination was made by the judge right then and there. When I sat before the EDD adjudicator I didn’t receive a judgment. I had to wait until the formal letter arrived before I knew I had won that case. I was completely unprepared to receive the judgment at the hearing, and I’m sure that’s why I cried. I thanked the judge twice as I rose, he said I was welcomed and I walked to the door followed by my attorney. The attorney had not had to argue my case at all. I had done that completely on my own. By simply telling my story, the truth of my suffering and by appearing in person to show him how someone of my age could be so badly affected by chronic pain syndrome, I had supported the evidence in my records. More importantly for a judge whose reputation was one of “reading” the claimant, I had locked eyes with him, never wavered in the truth of my struggle and assured him I was not someone unlawfully seeking benefits.

As I left the hearing room, followed by my attorney who was chatting with the judge about how the rest of their day was free and clear following my hearing, I was shaking, unsteady, but impatient to tell Laura of the result. As I almost lost my way back to the lobby, thankfully I had my attorney there to get me in the right direction, I had no idea what words would come out of my mouth. When I walked up to Laura in the lobby I simply said, “I did it. I got it, baby.” I didn’t want to say it too loudly, didn’t want to attract attention. So, Laura wasn’t sure what I was saying at first because I didn’t explain it well. To her it sounded like I was simply saying “I got through the hearing. That’s over.” It wasn’t until I said “No, I won the decision, we’re getting the benefits,” that it hit her and she was as shocked as I. We both thanked Alex Boudov profusely and left the building in a daze.

Of course, a big part of me won’t completely believe it until I hold the formal letter in my hand. At that point I will probably completely freak out and cry like a baby and staple a copy of it to every piece of clothing I have as proof that I am who and what I am and that other disabled persons like me should fight tooth and nail for their rights, too! Until that day when I have the letter in my hand, I will just replay in my head over and over again what my lawyer said to Laura and me after the hearing. You see, without Laura having been in the hearing room, I can’t ask her to reassure me of the judge’s determination. But since she was there when the attorney told us what steps would follow to get the benefits moving, which would only be told to us because I won the decision, I can ask Laura, “Hey, Boudov said we won the decision, right? Right?” and she will say in a soft but confident voice, “Yes, we won.”