Early Medical Retirement under FERS: Acceptability

At what point does it NOT become so?  Whether in marriage; in a job or career (is there such a distinction, these days?); or of life in general.  Is it the point where stress meets up with one’s desire and hope for a pictured future?  Does acceptability vary — is it different depending upon social class, background, level of education or even of cultural heritage?  Or, as with so many things — is knowledge or ignorance (the corollary between the two) what determines acceptability?

In other words, if a person has only known a certain X-standard of living, and has never been exposed to Y-standard of conditions, is it the lack of knowledge which accounts for acceptability of living conditions, or can we be content despite possessing such knowledge?

Unrest in modernity around the universe is often attributed by sociologists as indicated by the level of the shrinking globe — that, through the Internet, people everywhere are aware of everything, including the unacceptability of their own circumstances, and thus resulting in a universal sense of unease and unrest.

For Federal employees and U.S. Postal workers who suffer from a medical condition such that the medical condition prevents the Federal or Postal employee from performing one or more of the essential elements of one’s Federal or Postal positional duties, the level of acceptability is often when the juncture between pain and illness, and the tolerance for such where “living life” is barely bearable, meet and collide.

Consider filing for Federal Disability Retirement benefits under FERS, and consult with an OPM Attorney who specializes in Federal Disability Retirement, less acceptability turns into a morose sense of despair where even the weekends are barely tolerable.

Sincerely,

Robert R. McGill, Esquire

 

Federal & Postal Worker Disability Retirement: Diversions

Watching sports is a diversion; reading, writing (no, for most of us, engaging in arithmetic is not a diversion, or at least not a pleasant one); taking a drive, engaging in some artistic endeavor like painting, woodcraft, batiking (or the more simple form of tie-dying that we all did as children); they all divert our attention away from life’s difficulties, challenges and general unpleasantries diffusely appropriated by mere happenstance of “living”.

Is it the diversion that makes the rest of it all worthwhile, or is it the daily grind which makes it worthwhile such that we can engage in those moments of diversions which takes us out of the monotony of repetitive consistency?  Do we need diversions?  Did everyone, all the time, throughout history, forever and a day always engage in diversionary activities?  Or, was there a time in the pure state of nature where survival was always at a cost of constant vigilance, and where diversions were considered as potentially dangerous activities leading to death?

Fortunately, modernity has engendered an unspoken truce — where busy-ness prevails for 5 days of the week, with the sixth being set aside for chores and the seventh (isn’t that what God ordained?) as a day of rest, or for diversions diversely dignified in dapper dalliances of discursive delightfulness (sorry for the alliteration, but it cannot be resisted unless relatively reorganized for really rotten reasons).  Excuse the diversion of amusing myself.

For Federal employees and U.S. Postal workers who suffer from a medical condition such that the medical condition itself becomes the primary diversion, it is likely time to consider filing for Federal Disability Retirement through the U.S. Office of Personnel Management.  Diversions are ultimately meant for relaxation; medical conditions are “anything but” that.

Consult with an attorney who specializes in FERS Disability Retirement Law, lest the diversions that were meant to help us escape from the harshness of the work-a-day world becomes instead another reality of debilitating consequences.

Sincerely,

Robert R. McGill, Esquire

 

Federal & Postal Employee Disability Retirement: A Sense of Worth

Wittgenstein argued that a language which is kept private — i.e., known only to one person and not shared with anyone else — is conceptually impossible.  Language by definition is a vehicle by which ideas, concepts, declarations and commands are conveyed, and to remain as an eternal soliloquy would undermine the very essence of what language is meant to be.

Similarly, does the concept of “worth” make any sense within a vacuum?  Can an individual stranded on an island have any capacity to understand such a concept — of a “sense of worth”?  As an ancillary issue, what is meant by “a sense of”, as opposed to X or Y having “worth” without the prefatory addendum of “a sense of”?  If a person were to say, “I have worth” — is it different from declaring, “I have a sense of worth?”  Or, is the attribution appropriate when a distinction is made between living entities as opposed to inanimate objects?

For example, if a person points to another person’s wrist and says, “I have a sense of worth about that watch you are wearing,” would such a statement seem odd?  Is “sense of “ attributable to a fuzziness when it comes to the object/subject of such attribution?

Ultimately, whether of worth or sense of worth, what becomes clear is that the conclusion of “worth” is derived from the interaction with others within a given community.  Neither “worth” nor “sense of worth” is a comprehensible concept in a vacuum, in isolation, or as a soliloquy.  For, in the end, both language and a sense of worth are derived not from an egoistical encounter, but by attributions from others.

For Federal and Postal employees whose sense of worth has diminished because of the silence of agencies and postal facilities as to one’s contributions to the workplace, it may be time to consider filing for Federal Disability Retirement under FERS.  Consult with an attorney who specializes in Federal Disability Retirement Law and consider regaining your sense of worth by moving beyond the Federal Agency or the Postal Service that no longer sees your sense of worth.

Sincerely,

Robert R. McGill, Esquire