Can Do vs. Can't Do

I focus a lot on what I can do, and try to stretch that every day. Interacting with officialdom, like trying to fill out a Social Security application for disability insurance makes me pay attention to the ways I can't do stuff that is ordinary. It's a disheartening process to acknowledge that, sure, I can lift a 50lb dumbbell the couple of yards it takes to get it to a bench and back, but I couldn't carry it downstairs for love or money. Nor stand for six hours. Nor can I read long detailed text with ease. That last is the hardest admission to make at the moment.

I suspect there's a missed opportunity in the way the social security net is structured here. To be clear, I only pass the first hurdle because I paid a lot of tax when I was working. But the insurance incentivizes staying disabled, instead of rewarding recovery. This seems medically and economically dumb.

Whatever. The conflict between thinking optimistically about my capabilities and thinking realistically about my capacities is raw today.

Some good news

This really is fantastic news: My application for Medicaid was approved. This means that when I'm able to return home, I won't be returning to a $200k hospital bill.

Perhaps weirdly I'm not that euphoric about it because I didn't feel threatened by the bill: It was large enough to be Mt. Sinai's problem, not mine. i.e. It was so large there was absolutely no way I could just pay it off, so the hospital would have to find an affordable way for me to pay. Long-term income is better for them than default. Besides, I had more pressing things to hold my attention, like walking.

If there's any lesson to learn, it's this: Don't worry about things you can't affect. If they don't resolve on their own, you're no worse off, if they do resolve, you've saved yourself the deleterious effects of all that worry. It's the first question I ask myself now that I'm in the business of minding my blood pressure: Can I change this? f not, sod it!