Medical Retirement for Federal Employees: The clinical language

The antiseptic nature of language allows for the euphemism of linguistic cloaking to occur.  The corollary effect, however, is that it fails to provide a nexus to the humanity lost, and allows for an arrogance of language by imparting its distance and separation from warmth.

Clinical language has that characteristic, steeped in the mysterious and archaic history of Gregorian chants at altars once embodying the Eucharist’s theological secrets of transubstantiation with the priesthood undulating in phrases foreign to ears of modernity; and from that same pocket of incomprehensible linguistic sophistication that only New Englanders like Buckley and other intellectuals would bandy about with phrases we all nod at as if we understood them, comes the cold, clinical language that doctors, nurses and psychiatrists use in diagnosing conditions beyond the mere commoner’s ability to realize.

The clinical language bifurcates and objectifies; it is a way of keeping the discussion on a level of discourse where human emotions need not enter, will not intercede, and cannot invade through the impenetrable walls of the rational side of the brain.  Perhaps there is a need for that; a want, a desire and a worthiness to maintain that distance, so that the topics delineated, explained and obfuscated can be accomplished without the emotional turmoil of those consequences resulting from the realization that one is damaged goods beyond repair.

In the end, however, when the patient goes back home, discusses it with family, friends and close relations, the interpretive process must by necessity be utilized.

In former times, dictionaries were taken out, root words were defined and the Latin phrases whispered in secret murmurings of incantations incomprehensible were untangled, discerned and disassembled.  In modernity, we Google them and have the algorithm of computer intelligence in sunny California interpret the words for us to digest.  Then, the translation into the emotive language of kitchen-held talks in hushed tones where children strain to listen from stairwells around the corner; and tears wept, confidences given and lost, and the upheavals of families in crisis where the clinical language has been demythologized and demystified so that even the everyday person can recognize the human toil of a ravaged body and mind.

For the Federal employee and U.S. Postal worker who suffers from a medical condition, whether that medical condition has been diagnosed in clothing termed by the clinical language used by the medical profession, or already interpreted in common everyday usage, the plan is to prepare an effective, understandable, cogent and coherent Federal Disability Retirement application, and one that can bridge that gap from phrases barely comprehensible to linguistic descriptions that present a viable case.

Doctor’s reports and office notes, clinical narratives and treatment records are all useful and necessary, but in order to create that legal nexus of presenting a persuasive argument and meeting the standard of proof of preponderance of the evidence in a Federal Disability Retirement application, it is always a good idea to interpret and translate that clinical language into a delineation that touches upon the everyday emotions common to us all, by breaking down the bifurcated walls and allowing for the warmth of humanity to pervade the narrative of life.

Sincerely,

Robert R. McGill, Esquire

 

Federal & Postal Disability Retirement: Substantive vacuity

Another oxymoron, of sorts.  There are many of them in life, and the longer we live, the greater recognition we purport to identify.  People often say things and don’t mean it; or, such declarative niceties are meaninglessly bandied about because there is never any intention of follow-up or fulfilling of statements made.  We all know of people like that – commitments made with words, but no actions to follow; promises allegedly posited, with failed remembrances later on; or, misunderstandings on your part, and never theirs.

When did words become so meaningless?  Was it when the national debt soared beyond the proportional number of lawyers graduated from unknown law schools and the pendulum began to swing towards that abyss of linguistic elasticity upon the President’s quibbling with the meaning of a verb in a scandal and cover-up leading to impeachment?

Or, did the pinnacle of time when substance was king become a bottomless pit of mindless vacuity when Smartphones were introduced into the fray of conversation-stoppers, where once we had to rack our neurological cells to remember whether it was Hank Aaron or Barry Bonds who beat out Babe Ruth’s home run lead, and in what year, and whether being on steroids made it count or not – now, replaced by Google or some app that only two generations hence can figure out how to download and use?

Once upon a time, substance meant the essence of a person – whether by moral fortitude, steadfastness in faith or belief, or by quiet feats accomplished but never spoken about in polite company; and vacuity was relegated to braggarts and unfaithful husbands, when emptiness of societal discourse combined to free a man to declare that the Beatles were greater than Beethoven, and somehow it was imaginable that the words of Dylan could win a Nobel Prize, despite such accolades being the frenzied rebuttal of a generation who could fathom a purist’s discontent.

Uneducated boors possessed substantive vacuity; and so does the Federal Agency and the U.S. Postal Service that fails to try and accommodate the Federal or Postal worker who suffers from a medical condition, such that the medical condition results in the necessity to file for Federal Disability Retirement benefits.

This is, indeed, a strange, strange world, and when a Federal employee or U.S. Postal worker comes to a point of needing to prepare, formulate and file for Federal Disability Retirement benefits, whether the Federal or Postal employee is under FERS, CSRS or CSRS Offset, the concept of substantive vacuity comes to the fore because, after all, we are dealing with a bureaucratic nightmare in the form of the U.S. Office of Personnel Management – a behemoth among juggernauts, wrapped in the conundrum of a puzzled but substantive vacuity.

Sincerely,

Robert R. McGill, Esquire