Ever since my congressional representative, Rodney Davis, voted in favor of the disgusting AHCA yesterday, I’ve been in a pretty foul mood. Like I need one more thing to worry about.
Then I woke up this morning, checked my bank notices, and realized I’d received my last paycheck from my employer until I am able to work again. (If that’s not scary enough, that paycheck was only half of my normal paycheck.) And I entered full-on panic and depression mode about three seconds later.
I had this thought back when I was a new hire at my employer in 2013 that perhaps I was a little older now and perhaps I couldn’t afford to be all nonchalant with my benefit selection. So I had them deduct some money for a short-term disability plan from my paycheck. That insurance covered me for a few months, but it’s already run out.
Time flies when you’re having fun learning to walk all over again.
Anyway, even though I knew this day was in my future, I’d been avoiding obsessing over it. With things like this, there’s no planning—only worrying. And well-intentioned people kept telling me: You just have one job right now.
Yeah! I thought. Get better. That’s your only job. I went along with it. I mean it was and is kind of true. Brain tumors and their complications are not exactly a side gig.
But I can’t really ignore this no-income thing anymore.
So, after I saw the meagerly payment that posted to my checking account, I started my impending financial crisis meltdown.
I also started the Social Security Administration’s online application for disability. And then I did something I haven’t done in years; I took a nap as a coping mechanism.