20 - The Money Dilemma

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The first blog post I ever wrote was not actually the first post I published.  I had decided in the spring to start this blog but had yet to flush out the details.  One day before all those details were decided, something happened and I wanted to document it.  This is the post I am sharing with you today.

Figuring out what to do about money with PCS is stressful.  Today’s story reflects a time I got smashy about it.  Next week I’ll have some more storytelling about lessons I’m learning about support programs and what thoughts and feelings these have brought up for me.

Until then, enjoy this post written May 25th, 2018.

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FINANCIAL STAKES

I just smashed an empty breadcrumbs can with my hockey stick.  I put on my sunglasses before doing it; protective eyewear = safety first.  Then I ripped the glasses off my face and threw them at the concrete wall.  It’s not the first time I’ve thrown something at that wall in a fit of rage… The sunglasses broke into pieces.  Somehow, one of the arms flew into my kitchen upon smashing, which is impressive considering there’s a wall and a counter between the kitchen and where the smashing took place.  On top of protecting my eyes, I also wanted to take precaution to not fuck up the floors, so I did the can smashing on my yoga mat…there’s something poetic in that…

When I would go to this one concussion support group, one of the topics that came up frequently was financial issues.  It could have been problems with insurance companies, applications denied for disability, failed attempts at forcing oneself back to work, etc.  Because there’s no true diagnosis for PCS, and because of the stigma around it, plus the lack of good treatment and coverage through healthcare, people with PCS seem to be among the many who are poorly supported financially.  I believe I’ve even heard some people be accused of making up their symptoms.  The prevalent “suck it up” attitude makes things worse.  We may push ourselves to work again, but instead of getting back into the workforce successfully, it pushes us to have another setback…and the longer it takes, the more support we need and the closer to bankruptcy I am getting…

I never had a permanent job position.  I have no benefits.  I have no disability support.  I have no insurance.  It has been 11 months since I had an income.  And in the last 3 years there were fewer months when I made enough income to cover my monthly expenses, than there were months when I broke even.

“How do you live? Like, what do you do for money?” A friend once asked me.  “I was really good at saving my money, and am really good and not spending it I guess? I’m living off my savings,” was my answer.  However, at some point I’ll obviously need an income.  The RRSPs that I cashed out will only last so long…

And now, I’m feeling it.  The stress.  The pressure to get a job.  The countdown to bankruptcy.

I’ve lost count of how many jobs I’ve applied for, but I can tell you I’ve only had two interviews, and neither were successful.  I know this is par for the course, regardless of career, job type or circumstance.  But for me now, getting a job is an urgent matter and I don’t even know if I’m healthy enough to start work again without risking relapse.  The stakes are high.  Job hunting is soul sucking and my soul has been through a lot lately.

Luckily, I have been able to earn a bit of money walking a neighbour’s dog, teaching improv, and I’ve attempted to start a private practice in my profession.  I did have a return on my income tax (also a tough process on a concussed brain).  I also discovered that the hydro company here covers the cost of electricity for low income households, so that’s one bill I don’t have to worry about.  Still, every month, I am largely in the negative.

So today, when my dog’s dew claw that had ripped open yesterday, that I had bandaged, that I had sworn I wouldn’t go to the vet for because in the past couple months I already had to spend about $800 on check-ups, vaccines, and a pesky eye ulcer…when the torn open claw showed signs of infection and I had to concede to yet another vet appointment…I lost my shit.

I love my dog.  I love him more than almost anything.  He’s helped me a lot through this.  He comes to me when I cry.  He snuggles me when I’m lonely.  He sleeps next to me on the bed.  And even when I can’t do anything, I can still pet Bob and laugh at his goofiness.  So yeah, I don’t mind paying the vet bill.  Bob deserves the care.  It was just another reminder today of how shitty this situation is.  A reminder of my financial stakes.  A reminder of the jobs that have turned me down or perhaps never even looked at my resume.  The RRSPs I had to drain and how nervous that makes me for my future.  How goddamn lonely and hard this can be.  And how the poor are stigmatized as if it’s their fault.

Well, it’s not my fault.  It’s not anyone’s fault.  I’m doing everything I can.  And sometimes, to get me through, I have to throw something across the room or smash something with a hockey stick.

Wearing protective eyewear, of course.

Safety first.

- Krystal

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