I never thought my country, my own government, would be greedy and unfair toward me or any other American. Everyone over the age of 20 can tell you where they were and what they were thinking and feeling after the Twin Towers were assaulted by terrorists on September 11, 2001.  JFK’s assassination is the only other event I recall having moved Americans so deeply. The shock and destruction of 9/11, as it was soon labeled, brought out the hearts of Americans with a passionate sense of unity.  We were proud to share pain and patriotism. I began my assignment in April 2001 filling in for the little village Post Master.  The village post office is and has always been a one person operation.  Everyone in the community comes to collect their mail and packages at the post office.  The idea of home delivery in the tiny Snow Belt community was far-fetched and never existed.  Our Post Master put up mail in locked boxes and general delivery slots, sold stamps, swept the floor and shoveled snow.  If it was to be done, the post master, or the stand in did it.  If the Post Master was going to be able to attend meetings, take time off or deal with family emergencies, there had to be someone trained who could fill in quickly.  I lived less than a block from the post office and I was looking for something to do that would help me meet more residents.  This part time job was the right fit for both of us. The incidents of anthrax found in the mail on the heels of 9/11 infuriated me.  It was a far worse crime in my mind because I felt certain that one of our own citizens had placed that deadly powder in our US Mail.  It was a cowardly, sneaky crime against Americans which came when we were already shaken to our roots by the New York City twin tower explosions.  Outrageous indignation best describes my response to the reports of anthrax being discovered in the mail. I was much too angry to be afraid. I stopped working occasionally at the village post office and took a full time position at the area mail processing center. It seemed to be the best patriotic effort I could make. Both post offices shared the same regional management and human resource office.  I was already hired and in the system and I could begin immediately.  Demand for mail processers went up immediately due to the vast numbers of postal workers fleeing for safety from anthrax, and who knows whatever else might have been added to our mail.  No one wanted to think about being killed by anthrax. Those affected didn’t recover according to the national news. I had no idea what the mail processing job entailed but I knew my stubborn streak would protect me from anthrax exposure.  I also naively believed my sincere desire to do good would defend me against the evil powder contaminating the mail.  In reflection, I was in much more danger than I could accept at the time. The processing center job was too physically taxing for me. Lifting and sorting crates of mail and publications is heavy work. The repetitive motion of pinching and placing mail quickly became painful. My hands swelled and developed severe carpal tunnel disease in less than two weeks. I had tried to push through the pain waiting for my body to adjust to the work load. Big mistake!  I should have been a sissy and a quitter. The post office had a long and serious issue with worker’s compensation cases.  The situation provided me an in-depth education I wish I hadn’t needed.  When President Clinton became aware of the data on government workers and post office deaths, injuries and disabilities he announced that things had to change quickly. The country couldn’t afford for the postal worker’s compensation claims to continue. Department of Labor records showed a postal worker was more apt to be killed or injured than was a person serving in the military.  Executive Orders were issued to reduce these incidents by 25% per year over five years.  President Clinton also wanted the Federal government to increase its retention and hiring of disabled individuals. The idea of improving ergonomics, which was the cause of their problem, didn’t dawn on the Brainiac’s in charge of reducing postal workers injuries.  The labor intense method of work had been in place since the 1950’s.  Updating equipment and reducing human costs was the right response to the President’s Executive Order, but it didn’t happen, at least not while I was there. Management attempted to meet the new mandates by firing people who filed injury claims, and to persecute those injured workers who tried to continue their jobs with medical restrictions in place.  The situation existed nationwide. I was classified a casual non-regular worker. I would soon figure out that casual was short for casualty. When I reported that my hands were injured, human resources immediately sent me a letter of termination.  The letter arrived after my initial workers comp medical examination with Dr. G. I visited the agency physician at the local hospital for a follow up examination after being off five days provided no improvement to my impairment.  The backs of my badly swollen hands were broken out with a nasty rash and I couldn’t grip anything. Unable to hold a toothbrush or put on socks or underwear, I prayed I would be able to receive health care following the unexpected termination. The occupational health doctor I returned to was seated on a rolling stool. I was seated in a chair beside a tiny desk on the far side of the room from the door. Dr. G was friendly and talkative. When he saw the rash on my hands, he quickly rolled backwards as far as he could without opening the door and fleeing the room.  From that safe distance, he asked some questions about the rash.  Apparently, he determined it wasn’t likely anthrax and he rolled slightly closer for a better look at my hands. I informed him that I’d been terminated from the job after I reported the impairment and that I didn’t understand why.  He said he would contact the agency to assure them of the seriousness of my temporary disability. A specific diagnosis for the rash was never provided.  I say, it resulted from having to reuse disposable Nitrile gloves.  Workers were allowed one pair per shift.  They were uncomfortably hot and my hands sweated profusely in them. The rash soon disappeared but the carpal tunnel didn’t improve even slightly. For those of you who have not had a close relationship with someone experiencing carpal tunnel disease believe me, it is painful, scary and debilitating. The doctor’s communication with human resources didn’t get me reinstated. I was also denied any compensation for my time out of work at that point. Dr. G was requesting authorization to refer me to a neurologist for a nerve conduction test. He informed me that he had been requesting the authorization for both hands to be tested without any response from the human resource office.  He explained that he would need permission from them before referring me to a neurologist for the test.  He told me that test had to be performed in order to confirm the diagnosis of bi-lateral carpel tunnel disease. Dr. G said that he didn’t know where to turn for help getting the authorization since human resources wasn’t responding.  He sent me to occupational therapy, hoping to achieve some relief from my symptoms while we waited for the test authorization to arrive. I went home from that appointment feeling informed and able to connect the dots that had been puzzling. My situation wasn’t an awful mistake, it’s the way things were in the postal system. Two weeks prior to that medical appointment, I had awakened in the night, bolting straight up in bed as I said aloud, “I need a lawyer.” I had worked in a medical office fifteen years earlier and was familiar with workers compensation forms and procedures.  I mistakenly contradicted that audible sleep time message. In years past I wouldn’t have needed a lawyer. Now, I understood things were different and it looked like I was heading into a difficult process. I phoned an attorney in the area who advertised federal workers compensation as a specialty in the yellow pages. When I reached him, he informed me that his fee would need to be paid in advance because Federal Comp didn’t allow for contingency fees to be paid from settlements.  He wanted $2500.00 at our initial meeting if he was going to advocate for me and the total cost couldn’t be known in advance. I didn’t make an appointment with him. I believed I would find the right attorney for my situation. I searched the internet for information on federal and postal workers benefits and compensation.  I discovered that not only postal workers were being denied medical care and benefits, but federal workers in general were having identical experiences.  “Going Postal” took on a new meaning. I learned of many real people who shared my frustration with their federal workers compensation system being inhumane and unresponsive. Many of my new found contacts were career employees, union members and some near retirement.  When I report that work sites were negative about injured workers, accept that it was deliberately so.  Co-workers across the board feared speaking to an injured worker at any time, on or off the job. Management provided false and misleading answers when workers questioned where a missing person was.  The pat answer was, “no idea they just quit coming to work.” I stumbled upon a web site staffed by a few retired federal attorneys who were fed up with our government’s practice of reducing deficits by avoiding, delaying and denying affected worker’s healthcare and compensation.  Any private business would be prosecuted for the behaviors the federal government was demonstrating across the board; postal workers, civil service and embassy staff alike were persecuted and denied assistance as long as possible. I knew how fortunate I was to have connected with guidance and direction from knowledgeable people.  I couldn’t have made headway without them helping me to navigate the shark filled waters, but what about those who didn’t have my good fortune?  I wanted to advocate for them too. I know that we rise and fall together. The first important piece of information I gleaned from the helpful web site lawyers was that I needed to ask for a copy of the facts of my case from the postal human resource office. I learned to cite specific laws that would give cause for them to provide my information to me in a timely manner. There is a small window of opportunity for a worker to challenge the employer’s reported facts.  You only learn of them if you know to ask for a copy of the report.  I was surprised when their facts arrived in my mailbox.  My name and social security number were the only recognizable entries among their facts.  My hire date and duties were wrong, my rate of pay was wrong and according to their so-called facts, my supervisor was about to fire me for cause and I complained of a hand problem as an excuse. This was the same supervisor who didn’t give any direction or answer any questions when asked a question. I immediately returned my written challenge to their facts.  I did a good job, using a go by form provided by the web site attorneys. They used the web site to educate the group of us who found our way to them. They didn’t give individual case specifics to anyone. They responded to our questions like a professor might have in a classroom.  It was an effective method that enabled me to advance my case. I emailed a copy of the corrected facts to my brother in law, who practices civil law in another state.  He said my document was so well written that he questioned if I’d had more help preparing it. An attorney couldn’t have done a better job! The web site I was consulting was set up by categories, forum style questions and comments were posted.  Federal workers compensation was just one of the areas the associated attorneys offered information on.  I looked for the site again when I began writing this, but it has vanished.  I feel very fortunate that it was available when I needed their guidance. I know it made the difference in receiving the medical help I needed. My determination to get an authorization for the nerve conduction test Dr. G said I needed would sail through successfully.  I just knew that it would.  It was now a moral mission for me, and for others who may not be as well-equipped as I was. I smiled confidently at the fax machine in my home office. I knew it would provide a good record of every office and medical examiner I would send requests to for the needed authorization. I sat down and scrawled a request for the nerve test authorization on Dr. G’s behalf. My injury didn’t permit neat penmanship. I asked that the authorization be sent to Dr. G and provided his contact information.  I went on to explain the length of time he had been waiting to receive the needed reply. More than a month had lapsed without a response from human resources. I imagined all sorts of lies the case manager would be telling to cover this up but I didn’t include that. Next, I began searching for fax numbers for the District and Regional Post Office and U. S. Department of Labor. Any office with a medical department and a fax number was mine to contact. I sent my request to all fifteen offices, no reason to keep it neat and quiet. I was advocating and whistle blowing for anyone who needed it. A few days later, Doctor G’s office called to say they were ready to refer me to a neurologist for nerve conduction testing.  Someone with the authority to issue testing orders had read my faxed request and responded favorably.  I’d cleared three tough hurdles so far. Nerve conduction tests are very uncomfortable. Needles and electric shocks can’t result in anything but pain. The needles are applied to the hands and forearms along the suspected nerves involved.  The timing of one’s reaction to the shocks applied to the needle are recorded.  The data, will or will not, establish proof of the median nerve being compressed, commonly known as carpal tunnel disease. Surgery to expand the tunnel over the median nerve was scheduled for each hand after the test results were received.  The neurologist’s test results proved the diagnosis was correct. An authorization for surgery soon followed. I was referred to an orthopedic surgeon within a reasonable time frame. More than six months had passed since the post office terminated me over a work related condition that was diagnosed to be severe and chronic.  I was fortunate to have had the support of my stubbornness and the online lawyers.  I had been able to advocate successfully for myself.  Many in similar situations walk away in pain and frustration desperate for medical care and go without help. I told the doctor’s office to refer anyone having trouble getting help to me. I never thought my country, my own government, would be greedy and unfair toward me or any other American.  I had to awaken to the fact that expecting “the system” to be fair and just was naive and unrealistic.  Sadly, I’ve had to learn additional lessons on injustice and unfairness in the fifteen years that have passed. Why can’t the general population of our society exist in kindness, openness, fairness and helpfulness as a customary way of life? Does it really require a person to suit up in combat boots, steel helmets and flack-jackets to thrive? It saddens me to observe what happens to shy, uneducated and disadvantaged people in this great country of ours. I am much too often ashamed of our behaviors toward the old, sick, weak, poor, minorities, women, immigrants, prisoners, mentally ill, and others. 2016 is an election year.  Not only will we go to the polls to elect a new President and Vice President, we will be able to install new Senators and Congress People too.  If you want to change our country, begin with yourself, your family and friends, then extend it to the country and our representatives.  Please allow the most positive thoughts and feelings to guide you. The confused shadow prisoner’s Plato wrote about in the cave would like to hijack our society, government and relationship to the rest of the rest of the globe.  Don’t give into the fear they so freely spread about.  Hold your light and help everyone find the way to freedom. Views:]]>