Hiding in Plain Sight
I want to talk about two things I encounter every day as a social security disability law worker.
The first thing I encounter is medical records. I am buried in medical records (or at least my desk is). My job as an administrative assistant is to request medical records on behalf of our clients, to badger medical facilities into sending us records, to process those records (i.e. order them properly according to the Social Security Administration rules and take out the stuff that the SSA doesn't care about), and submit them to the Social Security Administration. It's not completely fair to put it this way, but at a rough estimation the SSA gathers evidence from their evaluating physicians that potential disability claimants don't meet their extremely strict, limiting definition of disability, and my office gathers counter-evidence from claimants' doctors to show that our clients do meet the definition.
Anyway, medical records. I see a lot of them.
I see a lot of them and I see things recorded like "Denied alcohol abuse" and "patient not receptive to discharge instructions" and "problem summary: morbidly obese."
The second thing I encounter is the voice of my coworker, M., across the hall. She has a south Georgia accent, and she spends a large part of her day on the phone, contacting clients to inform them that our firm has accepted their case, or calling clients to check to make sure their medical history is complete. "Are you still treating with Dr. [So-and-So]?" is a pretty common question. So, for most of the day, I hear, "Are you still on [medication]? Is that for the bipolar? Good. Are you still treating with Dr. [X]? Yes? Is that for the diabetes? Good. And you were in the hospital on [dates]? What was that for? And you're following up with Dr. [Y]? Great. And how are you doing now? Good. Okay, just know it's important to keep us up to date on all your doctors and medications so that we have the information to help you with your claim."
And those two things sound very different to me.
I didn't fucking deny alcohol abuse, you motherfucking smug doctor, you asked me in my intake interview if I drank, and I said "no."
I wasn't "unreceptive to discharge instructions," I was tired and in pain and being talked down to and I don't like taking my medication because it gives me side effects and these lifestyle changes are really big and daunting and I don't think my family or friends will really help and okay, whatever, just give me the damn instructions and let me leave.
"Morbidly obese" is not a fucking summary of my problems, much less of who I am.
So when I hear M. running happily through her checklist like it's the most normal thing in the world to have bipolar I or diabetes or both or any other condition, and it's just a disease like any other disease, keep seeing your doctor, keep taking your meds, good, good, good, you're doing well, just keep doing well at your life, this isn't sensational news, it's just your life and sometimes it's hard and sometimes it's really hard and sometimes it's fucking awesome...
Two things happen.
One: my fingers unclench and my shoulders relax a little bit, because someday maybe everybody will see stigmatized diseases as just another disease, just another little piece of your life (and maybe it's hard and we're here to help, but it's just a piece of your life).
Two: my fingers clench back up again, because oh my god, medical community: could your institutional privilege show any more? I realize it's very common to say "denied alcohol abuse; denied illegal drugs; denied nicotine use." It's just medical language. Just like bitch and fag and spaz are "just" insults, they're divorced from their roots, they're not sexist or heterosexist or ableist any more. Right?
(
comments at Dreamwidth. Comment there.)
The first thing I encounter is medical records. I am buried in medical records (or at least my desk is). My job as an administrative assistant is to request medical records on behalf of our clients, to badger medical facilities into sending us records, to process those records (i.e. order them properly according to the Social Security Administration rules and take out the stuff that the SSA doesn't care about), and submit them to the Social Security Administration. It's not completely fair to put it this way, but at a rough estimation the SSA gathers evidence from their evaluating physicians that potential disability claimants don't meet their extremely strict, limiting definition of disability, and my office gathers counter-evidence from claimants' doctors to show that our clients do meet the definition.
Anyway, medical records. I see a lot of them.
I see a lot of them and I see things recorded like "Denied alcohol abuse" and "patient not receptive to discharge instructions" and "problem summary: morbidly obese."
The second thing I encounter is the voice of my coworker, M., across the hall. She has a south Georgia accent, and she spends a large part of her day on the phone, contacting clients to inform them that our firm has accepted their case, or calling clients to check to make sure their medical history is complete. "Are you still treating with Dr. [So-and-So]?" is a pretty common question. So, for most of the day, I hear, "Are you still on [medication]? Is that for the bipolar? Good. Are you still treating with Dr. [X]? Yes? Is that for the diabetes? Good. And you were in the hospital on [dates]? What was that for? And you're following up with Dr. [Y]? Great. And how are you doing now? Good. Okay, just know it's important to keep us up to date on all your doctors and medications so that we have the information to help you with your claim."
And those two things sound very different to me.
I didn't fucking deny alcohol abuse, you motherfucking smug doctor, you asked me in my intake interview if I drank, and I said "no."
I wasn't "unreceptive to discharge instructions," I was tired and in pain and being talked down to and I don't like taking my medication because it gives me side effects and these lifestyle changes are really big and daunting and I don't think my family or friends will really help and okay, whatever, just give me the damn instructions and let me leave.
"Morbidly obese" is not a fucking summary of my problems, much less of who I am.
So when I hear M. running happily through her checklist like it's the most normal thing in the world to have bipolar I or diabetes or both or any other condition, and it's just a disease like any other disease, keep seeing your doctor, keep taking your meds, good, good, good, you're doing well, just keep doing well at your life, this isn't sensational news, it's just your life and sometimes it's hard and sometimes it's really hard and sometimes it's fucking awesome...
Two things happen.
One: my fingers unclench and my shoulders relax a little bit, because someday maybe everybody will see stigmatized diseases as just another disease, just another little piece of your life (and maybe it's hard and we're here to help, but it's just a piece of your life).
Two: my fingers clench back up again, because oh my god, medical community: could your institutional privilege show any more? I realize it's very common to say "denied alcohol abuse; denied illegal drugs; denied nicotine use." It's just medical language. Just like bitch and fag and spaz are "just" insults, they're divorced from their roots, they're not sexist or heterosexist or ableist any more. Right?
(
comments at Dreamwidth. Comment there.)