FERS Disability Retirement from the OPM: The prosaic life

That is the lot of most of us; yet, the contrast seen in the “entertainment” world is its very opposite.  Does it breed discontent (or malcontent)?  Does the “make-believe” universe that we surround ourselves with actually enhance one’s quality of life?

We not only welcome it; we pay for it, and gladly, so.  What does the contrast do to one’s soul — of watching movies involving fearsome technologies that destroy; of bank robbers, murderers, high-stake gamblers and every character imaginable; of dangers that never result in injury or capture; of adventures beyond one’s wildest imagination — and then, there is the actual life that one lives: Of a prosaic life that is often humdrum, unimaginative, mundane, pedestrian and…boring.

Is it “prosaic” to simply go from high school to college, then to a career, a family, old age and death?  Do we regret the repetition of our daily lives, so unbearably “normal”, such that we embrace this spectator-sport of adulation for the wealthy, over exuberant prostration in paying homage to sports heroes, and the unfettered interest shown towards everything and anything “glamorous”?

Until, of course, our health begins to deteriorate.  Then, suddenly, we wish for the “boring” life of normalcy; of the mundane when we took for granted the things we used to do; for the prosaic life that we once had.

For Federal employees and U.S. Postal workers who suffer from a medical condition such that the medical condition no longer allows one to do that which was once taken for granted — being able to go to work consistently; performing all of the essential elements of one’s job, etc. — filing for Federal Disability Retirement benefits under FERS may yet return you to the prosaic life that you now yearn for.

Sincerely,

Robert R. McGill, Esquire

 

 

Medical Retirement for Federal Workers: Believing in something

It is difficult, these days, to do so.  One can, by rote of habit, engage in the taciturn void of Gregorian chants, of hardened wood to kneel upon in prayerful silence where altar boys were muffled in horror in backrooms somewhere behind the hidden conscience of priests who, holy though they appeared, were but men of fleshly wants; or of giving when the televangelist prayed for miracles and allowed the camera angle to capture the piety of a winking heart.

Modernity defies believing in something.  We scoff at piety because we learned long ago that priests in dark robes were merely cloaked in outward appearances while engaging in acts of desecration behind closed doors, and gurus who rode around in expensive cars while preaching the gospel of meditative calm possessed devious thoughts untold behind craggy beards and beady eyes; and so we have lost the capacity for believing in something, anything, and let our children roam the streets of nihilism, sensual extortions of human bondage and the virtual reality of video consoles, only to be disappointed when they find emptiness in their lives reflective of an endless chasm of dreamless nights.

Once upon a time, Johnny believed in things; and then the marching band stopped when wars became endless, where speeches no longer carried the weight of conscience and greed seemed rampant in the daily lives of believers and beggars alike.  A priest once told this writer that he wished that the Church would sell all of its assets and go back to being the mendicant preachers we once were; but that was years ago, and not much has changed.

For most of us, we continue to cling to the thin reed of possibility; for the rest of us, we must contend with the reality of life’s trials: of work; family; health and friendships; and perhaps the belief in a tomorrow yet to be fulfilled with promised days of warm memories.

For Federal employees and U.S. Postal workers who suffer from a medical condition where the medical condition has begun to prevent one’s ability and capacity to perform one or more of the essential elements of one’s Federal or Postal job, believing in something is a foundation for the next steps to take: Of a Statute in Federal Disability Retirement Law that sets forth a criteria to be met, and then to set about proving that one has met them.

Often, believing in something is nothing more than acting upon a need and setting about fulfilling that need; and for Federal and Postal employees who need to file for a FERS Disability Retirement, consulting with an attorney who specializes in Federal Disability Retirement Law is the first step towards believing in something that you have a right to believe in.

Sincerely,

Robert R. McGill, Esquire

 

FERS Disability Retirement: Ignoring the details

What is a lawyer’s response to the allegation: “You are playing with words and using technicalities to win!”

Some might, of course, become defensive and deny such allegations, countering to the accuser that the substance of the law allows for such word-games and the laws themselves allow for such technicalities; or, as the more appropriate, honest and forthright answer might be (yes, yes, for those with such humor against lawyers, such a string of descriptive adjectives may appear to create an oxymoron), “Well, yes, law is the word-craftsman’s tool with which we play, and technicalities are those very details which allow us to prevail.”

It is, in the end, words which win out in any legal forum, and it is the delivery of those words that persuade, debunk, analyze and cross-examine the truth or falsity of claims made, defenses proffered and allegations refuted.

And this is no different in the forum of play known as “Federal Disability Retirement Law”.  For, always remember that a Federal Disability Retirement application, whether prepared for a Federal or Postal worker under FERS, CSRS or CSRS Offset, is a paper-presentation to the U.S. Office of Personnel Management, and as such, is based upon words, words, words — and details contained within and amidst those words.

By ignoring the “details”, one does so with much peril; for, in the end, the old adage that declared the “devil to be in the details” was merely a recognition that details matter, and it is those very details which win or lose a case, and that is no different when presenting an effective Federal Disability Retirement application to the U.S. Office of Personnel Management.

Sincerely,

Robert R. McGill, Esquire

 

Federal Employee Disability Retirement: The Habit

No, this is not about that peculiar creature that Tolkien created who used to rule the earth but now hides in little dirt hutches in the deep recesses of forests (don’t all children and adults who have read his works believe in their heart of hearts that Hobbits still exist, and we just don’t see them?); rather, this, too, is a creature of sorts, just not the imaginary creation that gave joy to so many.

How is it that we come to learn it?  Is there a numerical value that must be first ascribed before the regularity of X becomes a Habit-Y?  What constitutes a definition of the repetition, and how is it learned, as opposed to unlearning certain types of constancies?  Is there a numerical value that further transforms a habit into an obsession, and where is the dividing line and what demarcates the distinction we thus impose?

If a dog, each morning upon the awakening by an alarm clock set by his master, rolls onto his back and waits until he gets a nice tummy-rub, and never deters or detours from such a habit, can he, too, unlearn it?  Is a habit, moreover, merely a settled tendency, such that the rest of those around may expect it to occur, but when it does not, is not necessarily a surprise or a disappointment, but a mere reliance that “normally” occurs but is not mandated by a turn to another direction?  When the expectation does not come to fruition, do we simply say, “Well, normally it is his habit, but perhaps he changed his mind”?

Kant, for instance, was known to take his walk at a specific time, and it was said of him that the townspeople set their watches against his daily routine and habit.  Does not that sound more like an obsession?  Is the difference one where there is greater ease to “break” the regularity, whereas an obsession is where such a tendency cannot, and is no longer a “voluntary” act?

Additionally, is there a difference with a distinction between a “habit”, a “ritual” and an “obsession”?  Or, is there no clear line of bifurcation (or is it “trifurcation”?), but the lines can cross over easily – as in, when we engage in a habit, sometimes there are rituals that are performed – washing one’s hands in the same way as always; combing one’s hair a set number of strokes; skipping over a particular crack in the sidewalk on the way home; and are rituals merely of greater intensity with obsession than with a habit?

And what of necessities that arise?  Such as filing for Federal Disability Retirement benefits through the U.S. Office of Personnel Management for Federal and Postal employees – do people not file because their “habits” are entrenched in a belief-system that one must just “buck up” and ignore the warning signs of a medical condition that continues to deteriorate and progressively debilitate?  When do habits stand in the way of doing that which is “reasonable” under the circumstances?

Here is a thought: For Federal and Postal employees suffering from a medical condition, such that the medical condition prevents the Federal or Postal employee from performing all of the essential elements of the Federal or Postal job, let not habit become an obsession, and instead, allow for the rituals of life to free you from the habitual obsession of ritualistic redundancy, and instead, begin preparing an effective Federal Disability Retirement application.

Sincerely,

Robert R. McGill, Esquire

 

FERS & CSRS Disability Retirement: Tethered, Tattered & Tortured

The first in the series connotes bonding; the second, the state of being; and the third in the tripartite application of this linguistic artifice, the conclusion to a life lived.

Camus and Sartre represent the despair and loss of innocence – of a melancholy realization in the disillusionment of life’s aggregate experience – born in the early days of existentialism which uttered its first breath of strangulated gasps in the aftermath of the horrors of the First World War, only to be reinforced with experiential encounters of greater dehumanization during the Second World War; then, finding its fullness of maturation, with the discovery of alienation and conduct of thinkers like Heidegger, counteracted by the courage of Bonhoeffer’s refusal to submit; and in that consummate realization of the inhuman, collective carnival of cruelty deliberated as the penultimate culmination of Man’s loss of his soul – once, when the bonding of a community embraced the gathering of warmth and caring, and the insertion of alienation from the ashes of despair; much like the Phoenix rising but unable to spread its wings because of the weight of ruin.

The soul once tethered was now severed from its bonds of innocence. The state of being – of the tattered soul – is much like the Japanese woman who once uttered with accusatory vehemence: “When you landed on the moon, you destroyed imagination, romance and the beauty of the gods smiling upon us.” Such was the state of being – of the tattered soul of modernity. And of that conclusion to Man’s fate? Of the tortured soul who finds no path out of the misery of eternal condemnation?

For the Federal employee and U.S. Postal worker who suffers from a medical condition, such that the medical condition separates one from the tethered bonding with one’s workplace, career and coworkers, it is but an obstacle from the tattered state of being which can only conclude with a tortured end, but for the option of preparing, formulating and filing for Federal Disability Retirement benefits through the U.S. Office of Personnel Management, whether the Federal or Postal employee is under FERS, CSRS or CSRS Offset.  No, filing for OPM Disability Retirement is not the solution of and for all things misshapen; rather, it is an alternative to the complete loss of tethering, where the tattered remains may preclude the ambivalence of a tortured end.

Sincerely,

Robert R. McGill, Esquire