Psych exam

Yesterday I had an appointment for a psychological exam with the Social Security department. I don’t understand why they require a psych exam for disability benefits but, whatever. I’ve been jumping through hoops for the past 7 months in an effort to obtain acceptance into their disability program. I’ve filled out paper upon paper. I’ve submitted tons of medical documents and I’ve already been denied benefits once. After the last denial letter came, I decided to appeal it. A friend of mine told me that 99% of the applications are denied at least once. I was shocked to hear that.

I had no idea what to expect as I entered the Social Security Services building. There was a small counter directly across from the front door and as I went up to it, I saw a clipboard with some papers on it with a small webcam mounted in the corner of the room. Within a few minutes, a woman came to the counter and explained she’d be with me shortly. She asked me to take the clipboard and complete a list of medications I was currently taking.

I took the clipboard and pen and sat down in one of the black vinyl covered chairs. I surveyed the room noting the furnishings were sparse. This must be an office designated for use by multiple businesses, I thought to myself. As I sat filling out the list of my medications, my husband sat quietly in a chair beside me. He’d come along because the instructions on the disability exam notice said to bring someone who was able to explain my current health issues.

A few minutes passed and the psychologist came to take me back to her office. We walked down a narrow hallway into a small room. Inside the room was a tiny desk. On top of the desk was a laptop computer. There was a chair behind the desk and two chairs in front of the desk. The psychologist motioned for me to have a seat in one of the chairs in front of the desk. I wonder which one I should take…the one closest to the door or the one furthest away? Will she evaluate my decision on which chair I choose? I took the chair furthest from the door. I felt more comfortable against the wall. I sat there and watched as she began to type information into the computer. She glanced up and asked for my Social Security number and as I gave it to her, she quickly entered it into the system. Shouldn’t they already have that information? I’m sure they did. This must have just been a formality for her own program.

The psychologist, a petite woman of very slight build, was dressed in retro fashion. I was surprised to see she was not only wearing a sweater vest, but also cuffed, bell bottom, double knit pants. As she crossed her legs underneath the open desk, I could see she was wearing white hosiery with her clunky beige shoes. I wondered if she had purposely chosen this outfit or if she was trapped in a fashion time warp. I wanted to laugh as I stared at her pants. They reminded me of a pair of wide bottomed, cuffed pants I’d had back in the early 70’s. Those pants almost killed me! I remember coming down a set of stairs in them one day and my high heeled shoe got caught in one of the bell bottomed cuffs. I began to somersault down the stairs and landed with a thud hitting my head on the wall at the end of the landing. I hated those pants because of that scary fall and now, I was being reminded of it once again because of her pants. It’s funny the things that jog our memories, isn’t it?

She leaned across the desk and told me we were about to begin. She explained the exam would take about 50 minutes. Odd number, I thought. Why not just say, it will take about an hour? Maybe that was a psychological mind game. She began asking me questions and inputting my answers into the computer. To begin with, the questions were generic, name, age, marital status, number of children etc. Then we progressed on to work history. Next was medical history and then physical limitations. As I explained each item, she busily typed away. She rarely glanced up at me but when she did, I could see compassion in her eyes.

After the psychologist had completed the current information, she told me we were going to move into the mental part of the exam. We’d talk about my emotions and my mental status. Afterwards, she said we’d do some math problems and work on some memory tests. I wasn’t concerned about any of these because I felt confident I’d remained fairly healthy in my thinking over the past year. Sure, I’d faced many challenges and I’d had many emotional meltdowns, but I was doing pretty good under the circumstances in my personal opinion.

She asked me if I’d ever suffered any depression or had thoughts of suicide. I told her I did have some mild depression over having both breasts removed but I’d never thought of killing myself. I explained to her how devastated I was to have lost my femininity and she nodded her head in understanding. She moved on to a new subject and asked if I had any difficulty dressing and undressing myself. I explained to her that I was unable to put on or take off any blouses unless they buttoned up the front. She said, “so your husband has to dress you?” I smiled and said, “yes, pretty much.” She asked me to elaborate on this and I told her about the lymphedema in my arms and how the swelling prohibits me from having a complete range of motion. She asked if this was a temporary situation and I explained to her that it was permanent. As I went into a detailed description of how the lymphatic system works, she sat there and looked at me like a deer in headlights. I was surprised she wasn’t aware of this medical issue. She must have read my mind because immediately she said, “I’m not a medical doctor. I’m not trained in these types of things.” I smiled and completed my explanation.

When we’d finished the physical limitations aspect of the exam, she began giving me a battery of tests. She started out with memory tests. She told me she was going to give me 3 words and she wanted me to remember them because sometime down the road, she’d ask me to repeat them back to her. She said 3 words and then continued with her testing. About half an hour later, she said, “Now I want you to tell me the 3 words I told you to remember.” For the life of me, I could only remember 2 of those words! I was dumbfounded. She told me not to worry. She said, “Many of the breast cancer patients I work with have short term memory problems due to their treatment.” I couldn’t help but be bothered. I was downright scared, truth be told. I was afraid I was getting early onset Alzheimer’s or something. She conducted more memory tests and I don’t think I did well on them at all, although she said my long term memory was great. The short term, not so much. She began giving me mental math problems and I think I did well on those. She made a comment to that effect, anyway.

Finally, the exam was over. She abruptly closed her laptop and said, “We’re done here. I’ll submit this report and you’ll hear from the Social Security department shortly thereafter.” That was it. She motioned for me to exit her office and as I walked down the narrow hallway again, I felt my head pounding. I’d had a migraine headache since before I’d walked into this office and it was still with me. I’m sure it was stress related. I couldn’t wait to go home and take some Tylenol.

Now it’s a waiting game. I’m curious how this will turn out. Hopefully, I’ll be approved and begin to receive benefits soon. I think it’s a shame that we are required to pay into Social Security as soon as we start working and when we need to draw on those earnings, we have to fight for our right to our own money. It doesn’t make sense to me. Not only do cancer patients have to go through the trauma of dealing with physical and mental devastation, they also have to face financial devastation, too. The medical bills are astronomical and for those without any insurance whatsoever, bankruptcy seems to be the only option. There’s got to be a better way. I hope someday our government will change and make things just a little easier for those who need it most.

©bonnie annis all rights reserved