DISABILITY IS LIKE A WARM CAKE OR THE PARRABLE OF CULINARY ACHIEVEMENT

Over the last score of years, I have learned that explaining the subtleties of what constitutes disability and the complexities of disability process is frequently unfathomable to my clients. It is not because my clients are stupid. It is not because they are in such pain and fatigue that they cannot appreciate the words that flow from my lips. It is probably because the disability process represents an alien terrain. By that, I mean that it is an experience that is not common. It is not predictable and it is not part and parcel of their life experience. It is perfectly natural to approach something extraordinarily new by attempting to compare it to something old and this is not of tremendous utility in the disability arena. It is common experience to regard, that which is foreign as somehow treacherous, dangerous or bad. While commonplace in day-to-day activities, it is not useful when attempting to describe one's disability in a hearing before a judge.

Over many years, I have tried different avenues to explain to my clients how best to organize their thoughts. It is fundamental that one only tells the truth in a hearing process; exaggeration has no place. That spinning testimony was not good for Bill Clinton, and it is not going to be good for you. It is fundamental to the disability process that the truth is brought out. It is not the truth of attorney's. It is not the truth of politician, and it is not the truth, as you would wish other people to believe. The process of communicating, not merely to doctors or attorneys, but to the court is a second language, and therein lies the problem. One can attend several semesters of English as a Second Language class at a community college to master the subtlety of communication. The disability process is easily as subtle, but does not offer the opportunity for such extended study and revision. It is a process that demands attention and perfection from the beginning. Ask not of your attorney, "what do you want me to say", rather ask, "how can I communicate my problem to you"?

I have yet to meet a judge, physician, attorney, or client capable of mind reading. It is a sad truth. The extrapolation of information simply by close proximity does not work. Communication is communication, whether as a first language or a second language. The idea is to instill in the listener a total understanding. The vocabulary of disability is really no different than the vocabulary of speech. It represents a choice of words and concept rather than a new vocabulary and idiom.

When I was young and foolish, I would ask my clients to tell me why they are disabled, and upon hearing inadequate, strange, non-responsive answers, I took up pencil breaking and desk slamming as a method of venting frustration. My client's couldn't fathom my frustration, I couldn't fathom their inability to describe why they were disabled. With years, I mellowed and would ask my clients to try to explain to me why it is they "could not work" followed by a long patient smile. The answers were no better, but I did spare the lives of many pencils. With further practice, I would ask my clients to go home and tell their spouse why it is they couldn't work and then come back and explain it to me. Again, that was of little utility. In the last five years, I ask my clients to pretend that they were describing their disability to a person they didn't know over a telephone, and I would sit before them with my eyes closed, and listen to their casual explanation of disability replete with sometimes, "I don't feel so good" and "like you know sometimes I hurt real bad". Again, not very good.

I have settled on a new metaphor which I think is the acme of the disability process. It strikes at the heart of misscommunication and vagueness and will provide a recipe to allow effective communication between patient and physician, client and attorney, applicant and judge, priest and penitent. Assume that the task at hand is no more complex than communicating how to prepare a meal. Assume that the testimony and language of disability is a recipe. If that is the metaphor than here lies the answer:
The testimony of disability is like communicating a recipe.

If I were to ask you the reader, to prepare for me a cake and I provided you with the information, use some flour, use some fat, add some milk, put in some sugar, beat it for awhile and bake it, I imagine that I would be served up an inedible glob of material. The reason for that is that there is no specificity within the ingredients. There is no measure, there is no amount, and there is no time. It is not mathematics, it is only communication.

It is a simple formula. A recipe calls for quantities, volumes and time and heat. These are expressed as whole numbers; ten minutes, one cup, 350 degrees, an hour. It is the key that unlocks the disability arena, it's that simple. How many days a week is the pain and fatigue bad? How bad is the pain and fatigue? How many hours of rest does one need to get through the day? How significant is the restriction? How many activities do you actually perform? How many activities don't you perform?

If one is able to accept this metaphor and substitute real numbers, amounts and times for the chatty vernacular of "you know", and, "sometimes", you stand at the threshold of the disability process with the door wide open. You may ultimately loose your claim for disability, but you do so with dignity, you do so having done your best to communicate what ails you to the administrative law judge, to the attorney, and to the doctor. I would suggest that you consider that disability is nothing more than a warm and aromatic cake, and that if you can communicate the recipe, the arrangement of the basic ingredients, you can then use that skill to communicate the basic ingredients of your illness.