Medical Retirement for Federal Employees: The real me

Are there societies in which the non-existence of the concept of “self” reveals a qualitative difference in approaching life in general?  Does the fact that language embraces the singular personal pronoun in contradistinction to the plural, communal form (i.e., “we” or “us”) make a difference in the manner in which we see the world?

If “I” as the subject/nominative form or the “me” as the objective (accusative and dative form) were to be expunged from the English Lexicon, would the universe be shaken and the axis upon which rotation occurs be shattered such that earth would no longer remain as we have known it?  Or — beyond the modernity of linguistic philosophy, where there are no substantive philosophical problems which cannot be solved by Wittgensteinian means of clarifying, modifying or overhauling the language game utilized — will we merely go on as before and act “as if” the “I” and “me” did not exist, but carry on for selfish purposes, anyway?

There is always that hankering by each one of us that “if only…”.  If only people knew the “real me”; if only she could recognize the uniqueness of the “I” that doesn’t quite come out right because of my nervousness, shyness, etc.  If only the boss knew; if only my wife knew; if only my husband knew….

The cynic, of course, would counter with: Good thing no one knows the real you….  Or, is it really just another form of the philosophical conundrum that we have cornered ourselves into — sort of like Ryle’s “Ghost in the Machine” argument where Cartesian dualism doesn’t exist, and so there is no “real me” beneath the surface of what we present to the world — that, in fact, we really are boorish, one-dimensional and unsophisticated creatures who put on a good show, and that is all there is to the “I” and “me”: A composite of the Neanderthal who puts on a necktie and pronounces words and phrases in monosyllabic forms of grunts and groans?

For Federal employees and U.S. Postal workers who suffer from a medical condition and who must consider filing for Federal Disability Retirement benefits through the U.S. Office of Personnel Management, the real “I” or “me” is certainly not the person whom the Agency has tagged as “less than whole” because of the medical condition itself.

Yet, that is how the Federal Agency and the Postal unit will often approach the unfortunate circumstances of the Federal employee or Postal worker who reveals an intent to file for OPM Disability Retirement benefits under FERS.  No longer as part of the “we” or “us” team of Federal employees or Postal workers, the Federal Disability Retirement applicant is often shunned and sequestered, and generally harassed and placed under administrative sanctions — merely for revealing a vulnerability resulting from a medical condition.

That is essentially where the problem of the “real me” resides: Of how we pigeonhole one another.

To avoid that as much as possible, it is a good idea to consult with an Attorney who Specializes in Federal Disability Retirement Law, to fight back against the notion of the real me that the Federal Agency or the Postal Service wants to depict, as that malingering worker who once was X, but is now seen as Y.

Sincerely,

Robert R. McGill, Esquire

 

Medical Retirement under FERS & CSRS: In the end…

What is it about a phrase that predictably tells us about the mood, content or direction of the mindset?  If a person begins with, “Well, it all began when…” — we will often stifle a yawn, try to make excuses and begin heading for the exits.  Self-aggrandizing, prefatory remarks that set the stage for a narrative delineation that includes private details of individual lives often bore the pants off of most people, and yet many will “tell all”, as if such intimate details trigger a prurient interest within each of us.

Then, of course, there is the opposite, as in: “In the end…”.  What fills in the ellipses?  In the end…the world will all go to the trash bin of history’s footnotes; In the end…we all die, anyway?  Such opening phrases and closing remarks leave out the vast chasm of filling in “the middle”, of course.  How does a story begin, tell the narrative in an interesting manner in “the middle” and end with a bang?  That is the problem, isn’t it?  Most of us don’t have a clue as to how to tell an interesting tale.

And what about non-fiction — of a historical narrative or of a biography?  What makes for an interesting “telling” of it — of what details of a person’s life; what incidents should be included?  What peripheral, tangential details will make for an interesting and engaging read?  Is a biography incomplete if the author leaves out certain details, or does it matter?  What “events” are presumed and should therefore be excluded, and can it really be said that certain excluded moments are considered to be excluded at all?

For example, it is presumed that a person goes to the bathroom a few times a day, at least — but what if, during the narrative of a biography or a historical period, such activities are never mentioned?  Can we call up the author and demand to know why such historical “facts” were excluded from the biography of, say, an important figure?

For Federal employees and U.S. Postal workers who suffer from a medical condition, such that the medical condition prevents the Federal or Postal worker from performing one or more of the essential elements of one’s Federal or Postal job, it may be necessary to begin to formulate an effective Federal Disability Retirement application, to be submitted to the U.S. Office of Personnel Management, whether the Federal or Postal employee is under FERS, CSRS or CSRS Offset.

As part of that “administrative process”, it is necessary to complete SF 3112A, Applicant’s Statement of Disability.

In preparing the narrative story of one’s medical condition, it is important to convey the essential “story” — a historical account; a prefatory introduction; a “middle”; and an “In the end…”.

What details to include; the choice of words; whether in the first-person or 3rd-person narrative; of what legal arguments to include; whether to “exclude” certain details without being charged with “falsifying” a claim, etc. — these are all important considerations in the proper, complete and sufficient preparation, formulation and filing of an effective Federal Disability Retirement application, and it is vitally important to do it “the right way” when preparing SF 3112A — the core and essence of the Federal Disability Retirement application — which, in the end, is the story of your tale that needs to be told.

Sincerely,

Robert R. McGill, Esquire

 

Lawyer Representation for OPM Disability Retirement: The flowers of spring

Poets describe them as metaphors for future hope; youth that still holds out for a time beyond, where life is full of unaccounted happiness and time yet to be spent without fear of regret; and for the old and dying, remembrances of a yearning that once stirred but are now waning for lack of vigor.

There are flowers in other seasons; and even when the winter months blow breaths of icicles that form with each quiet whisper, of the camellia that withers not nor wilts in the snow banks that whistle alarms of shuddering regrets; but of the flowers of spring we smile and walk aglow like so many elves reinvigorated by the accomplishments of having been Santa’s helpers in a workshop full of toys that brought delight.

The flowers of spring represent that glimmer of hope, no matter the station of one’s life, the stages that make passage through time inevitable towards that dark tunnel that pervades when sorrow weeps the midnight train that whistles through the cavernous calm of a trickling fade.  Must death always be the fate of Man when once hope was what the dream allowed?  Will the poet bring forth words of encouragement even when health deteriorates, madness screams and life seems but a faint murmur of a heart yet thumping for a yearning tomorrow?

For Federal employees and U.S. Postal workers who suffer from a medical condition, such that the medical condition begins to endanger and threaten one’s career and the investments made for a future that once seemed so bright and certain, it may be that the choices presented are quite limited — like the flowers that can survive through winter’s discontent.

Federal Disability Retirement is an option that should be considered when the medical condition begins to prevent the performance of one or more of the essential elements of one’s Federal or Postal job, and consulting an experienced attorney to begin to map out a pathway out of the inconsolable chasms of winter and bring forth the flower of spring may be the first step in preparing, formulating and filing an effective Federal Disability Retirement application, to be filed with the U.S. Office of Personnel Management.

Sincerely,

Robert R. McGill, Esquire

 

Medical Retirement from Federal Employment: The din of distant darkness

There are often foreboding signs which we conveniently ignore.  In retrospect, how often do we hear of the lament of disregard?  “I never thought…”; “I heard the sound, but –“; “There were some indications, but I just assumed…”  Yet, later, we recognize those telltale footprints, and wonder why the creaking floorboards or the muffled murmur did not raise the cautionary instincts repressed by urge of avoidance.  If we were paid a dollar for every instance where…

Like Jim Croce’s remorseful song, if time could be saved in a bottle from every occurrence of wasteful distraction spent trying to figure out things which could otherwise be discerned through careful analysis, the extent of cumulative superciliousness in trying to act offended or incensed by charges of ineptitude might be reasonably contained.  There is so much noise, these days, that a fresh uptick in the volume of an additional din is barely noticeable.  And when then sound of emitted discordance strums a beat in the distance, who but the expectant and anxious parent recognizes the unique cry of a child’s shrill scream of alarm?

And if the sound is merely likened to darkness, where light no longer creeps between the door left ajar, or the seam between the floor and the locked metal gate, then how are we to recognize the silence of strangled light left abandoned in the loneliness of a world uncaring?

The din of distant darkness is precisely that foreboding sense of what may happen, but based upon “something”, as opposed to a baseless muttering of convictions unfounded when we suddenly “lose it” and cannot extricate ourselves from the frenzy of our own lies.  Much of life is about lying – not necessarily to others (although, we do that often enough, as well), but more to ourselves in order to shield our own fragile psyche from the fears we want to avoid.  But even darkness seen in the distant horizon comes creeping towards us, whether we want it to, or not.

How we nestle in the fears of our own making, or struggle against the timeless reverberations of anxieties unstated and never confessed, is the foundation of what makes for successful living, or failed attempts to conceal the cacophony of numbing onslaughts of life.  Yes, the din of distant darkness is yet merely a warning some months, years or decades away; but for Federal and Postal employees who already have a sense of what is coming, and the inevitability of life’s misgivings, the indicators are probably already there:  a medical condition that will not go away; the intersecting impact between the medical condition and the ability to perform the essential elements of the Federal or Postal position; and the question:  How long can I last?

For Federal employees and U.S. Postal workers who need to start considering the process of preparing an effective Federal Disability Retirement application, to be filed with the U.S. Office of Personnel Management, whether the Federal or Postal employee is under FERS, CSRS or CSRS Offset, the din of distant darkness should never be avoided; for, in the end, it will come upon you like a thief in the night, stealthily, and without regard, just as your agency and closest coworkers and supervisors will turn the other eye even when the oncoming rush is about to hit you in a sudden fit of uncaring actions.

Sincerely,

Robert R. McGill, Esquire

 

OPM Disability Retirement: The Price of Admission

Private entities charge more; exclusive arenas tend to be out of reach; and it is, ultimately and as in all economic realities, determined by an admixture of supply (how many are allowed) and demand (how desirous is the goal of entrance and acceptance).  For every admittance, there is a price to pay.  Often, it is not merely the affirmative transfer of money or goods, but rather, the negative aspect of what one must “give up” in order to attain the end.  It often involves a comparative analysis, an economic evaluation of gain versus loss, and in the end, the emptiness of the latter being overtaken by the value of the former.

For Federal employees and U.S. Postal workers who suffer from a medical condition, such that the medical condition begins to awaken an awareness that one’s career may be coming to the twilight of that lengthy, successful run, it is often that “price of admission” which makes one hesitate.  For the Federal and Postal employee who must file 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, the question is double-sided:  the price one “has been” paying to remain as a Federal or Postal employee, as opposed to the loss of employment status, or becoming an “ex-member” of that exclusive club.

Change always portends a trauma of sorts; the medical condition and the revelation of vulnerability, mortality and progressive debilitation was in and of itself crisis of identity; but when it becomes clear that the medical condition begins to impact one’s ability to perform all of the essential elements of one’s positional duties, and that further changes to one’s career and livelihood must by necessity occur, then the avalanche of reality’s namesake begins to dawn.

The price of admission for one’s health, ultimately, is priceless; and that is the reality which one must face when preparing, formulating and filing for Federal Disability Retirement benefits through OPM.

Sincerely,

Robert R. McGill, Esquire

 

OPM Medical Retirement: The Categorical Imperative

It is, of course, the foundation of Kant’s moral philosophy; of the unconditional call to act in a certain way, accepted and mandated precisely because there is no room for question.  But that life were so easy; automatons would simply act in mechanistic ways, driven by moral certitude; free will could be determined by the comforting thought that universal codes of conduct shall always confine and direct.  And bureaucracies would always make decisions within a framework of computational algorithms.

But Federal Disability Retirement is not a matter of a diagnosis; unlike Social Security Disability, which does contain a semblance of categorical imperatives when it comes to certain medical conditions, the preponderance of the proof needed in becoming eligible for Federal Disability Retirement benefits is threefold: First, the minimum number of years under FERS (18 months of creditable Federal Service) or CSRS (5 years, which is presumably already met by everyone in that retirement system); Second, a medical condition which came into existence during the time of Federal Service (with some arguable exceptions within one (1) year of being separated from Federal Service); and Third, a nexus of relevant impact between one’s medical condition and the essential elements of one’s positional duties one performs for the Federal agency or the U.S. Postal Service.

It is this third step in the process which effectively compels one to step outside of the identification of Federal Disability Retirement laws as containing an element of the categorical imperative; for, in the end, it is not simply an evaluation of “which category” one falls into, but rather, how significant and persuasive is the bridge built upon between the two primary land masses:  one’s medical condition (land mass #1) and the essential elements of one’s Federal or Postal job (land mass #2).

That metaphorical “bridge” must be constructed with care, clarity, and concrete argumentation of persuasive force in order to withstand the inspecting scrutiny of the U.S. Office of Personnel Management.

Look upon it as if OPM is walking through the construction site with a hard hat, pen in hand and taking notes furiously in attempting to discover deficiencies in the qualification standards imposed.  Jumping up and down and screaming at the inspector that the bridge fits into a pre-defined category will not suffice; instead, the categorical imperative must be argued for by pointing to the medical evidence, the law, and the connective tissues which form the effective and persuasive confluence of all of the elements which comprise the ultimate imperative of life:  that of a methodology of argumentation that one is “right”.

Sincerely,

Robert R. McGill, Esquire