Federal & Postal OPM Disability Retirement: The Troubled Life

In one sense, all lives are troubled; otherwise, we would not be speaking about life at all, for “life” itself is a series of troubles encountered.  Every now and again, we hear about a life which was “privileged” or “blessed” — of a carefree, essentially trouble-free existence.  But how long can that last?  And was it truly an advantage to have such a childhood?  For, part of “growing up” and preparing for the “real world” is to introduce internal tools to “deal” with problems encountered.  If a child is not properly prepared to handle and engage in the task of problem-solving, then he or she will indeed be at a disadvantage when first entering the world at large.

There are troubled lives, and then there are the rest of us — of lives with troubles.  The troubled life is one in which transition from childhood to adulthood never occurred because proper preparation was never allowed for.  The troubled life that the rest of us lead — of a life full of troubles, often like an endless series of problems to be solved — is simply the norm of regular living.  This life is a troubled one precisely because life itself presents an endless series of challenges to be solved; and it is the “how” of that encounter that makes all of the difference. It is never a static continuum, however, and there are times in life when there are more troubles than in other times.

For Federal employees and U.S. Postal workers who must confront the troubles of a medical condition and all that it entails in trying to perform all of the essential elements of one’s Federal or Postal job, the time to file for Federal Disability Retirement benefits may have arrived.  Proper preparation; an effective application; the “tools” needed to maneuver through the complex administrative process; these are all “troubles” which need to be confronted and “problems” to be solved.

The “troubled” life for a Federal or Postal employee contending with a medical condition remains so unless the tools of resolution are applied, and in order to utilize the proper tools to resolve the troubled life, it is best to consult with an attorney who specializes in Federal Disability Retirement Law.

Sincerely,

Robert R. McGill, Esquire

 

Medical Retirement for Federal Workers: The house next door

It is the one that follows the same comfortable convention for all these many years — of never knowing the intimate details; a wave of the hand every now and again; of fleeting appearances on various days, such as recycling, garbage and the occasional Saturday when the in-laws from out-of-state come to visit on Thanksgiving, or a birthday, or perhaps when a tragedy occurs and the sudden appearance in the driveway that is filled with cars never before seen.

The house next door, or across the street —the neighbor who you do not know, and somehow never got around to knowing, whether because they were latecomers or you were, and the “other” didn’t seem all that willing, friendly or “neighborly” to begin with, and so a settled truce became the daily routine that never altered, never became a problem, and forever became entrenched in the mundaneness of deliberate social avoidance.

We imagine what occurs in the house next door; or, perhaps not at all, except to complain when they’ve made too much noise, let their grass grow beyond the acceptable conventions of normative beliefs (or otherwise in violation of strict codes imposed by the “lawn police” of the local Home-Owner’s Association), or parked one of their cars in front of your house (yes, it is true — that street section in front of your house is actually not your property, and though it may be obnoxious, the house next door has every right to park the car on your side of the street, right in front of your house).

We never know what occurs to the house next door until one day we read about the tragedy in the pages of the obituary in the local paper.  There is a sadness in that very fact; or, perhaps that is the way we have set up this disinterested and alienated society?  Do we prefer to remain ignorant of the goings-on of the house next door?

For Federal employees and U.S. Postal workers who suffer from a medical condition such that the medical condition forces the preparation and filing of a 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, it often feels like living in the house next door — for, suddenly, you find yourself looking at familiar surroundings from across the street, or from beyond the fence that separates, and you begin to wonder whether you ever knew your neighbor, and what they are up to.

There is an alienation involved, and you must always remain suspicious as a “new” car is suddenly seen parked across the street, and the Supervisor or coworker seemed to be sharing information and gossiping with furtive eyes averted from your view; and yes, the Federal Agency or the Postal Service may be getting ready to initiate an adverse action of some sort — like the house next door that you never knew and now would rather not.

Sincerely,

Robert R. McGill, Esquire

 

Early Retirement for Disabled Federal Workers: The chaos of life

The Biblical reality depicted in the very first verses reflects a reality more real than most would suppose, and for those who dismiss the ancient Books as merely relics of a superstitious past and thus irrelevant for modernity’s wake of technological sophistication, perhaps a redux and revisitation is in order.

Most of life is chaos; or, to put it more starkly, the chaotic lives we lead are the rule, and not the exception.  How else to account for the constant need for quietude, of a short respite by leaning back into one’s chair and inviting the soft darkness of a needed nap; a renouncing and resignation away from the constant din of noisiness; of the rush to find time, just a sliver of sanity, within the vast chaos of a feckless universe.

The soft-lined trees that lead us back into our neighborhoods; of the structured redundancy where sidewalks circle into ever-repetitions leading to nowhere; of bedrooms lined like secluded rooms within insane asylums just to get a moment’s peace from the busy-ness of life; and then the alarm clock awakens, the rush is on, into traffic mazes that pound the heart, create migraines from a calm just experienced a mere hour before, and the addiction to craziness begins anew as the dawn of hope becomes mired in the hopelessness of today’s grinding schedule.

The earth is no longer without form, or void, and yet the chaos of formlessness and void-ness remains and surrounds; and the light that we declare is the recreation we so desperately seek, only to be interrupted by the survival instincts that remind us that what we live for cannot possibly be attained, but somehow the darkness from which we escaped so long ago is a vestige of hopes yet rekindling, and if we can only make it through this day, perhaps tomorrow will bring to us a sacrifice of our better selves.

The chaos of life is real; it is with us each and every day.

And for Federal employees and U.S. Postal workers who suffer from a medical condition such that the medical condition begins to prevent the Federal or Postal worker from performing one or more of the essential elements of one’s Federal or Postal job, the reality of such chaos begins to dawn upon the need to prepare, formulate and file 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, lest the chaos of life become life’s chaotic life everlasting, never to be rescued from the formless void of ancients long since remaining.

Sincerely,

Robert R. McGill, Esquire

 

FERS & CSRS Disability Retirement: Death of the metaphor

Metaphors and analogies are how we communicate; without them, it is the mere drone of sounds emitted, and even if without the directness of a simile where we place the comparison of two or more differing entities and connect with the word “like”, it is the only means of striving to reach a greater understanding of the world around.

The death of the metaphor is a certainty.  Modern technology has eviscerated the capacity of human beings to remain curious; and curiosity is not what killed the cat, but allowed it to remain a force in evolutionary stages of increasing survival instincts, as the trait of the inquisitive allows for greater mastery of the universe.  Smart phones allow for a person to defer memorization; computers deaden the natural instinct for query; and technology in general denies the relevance of a metaphor precisely because we need not struggle to explain – the machines do all of the explaining for us.

The death of the metaphor means the rise of the deadened soul, and suppression of everything that was uniquely human.  Would Shakespeare have survived in this day and age, or the complexity of language allowed for such subtleties of linguistic shades of meaning?

For the Federal employee or U.S. Postal worker who is suffering 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 the Federal or Postal employee’s job duties, the need to employ metaphors still exists, as the U.S. Office of Personnel Management – the Federal agency that makes a determination on all Federal Disability Retirement applications – must still be persuaded by argumentation and logical sequencing of thought processes.

Yes, the death of the metaphor is imminent and inevitable, but in the greater corners of administrative law, the metaphor, the simile, the analogy that persuades must yet be utilized in order to make effective a Federal Disability Retirement application, whether the Federal or Postal employee is under FERS, CSRS or CSRS Offset.

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