Did you ever notice that all of these hallways look the same? When I was little, my Dad took the whole family across Canada and the United States. We stayed in all the familiars; Holiday Inn, Howard Johnson's, Ramada, the various independent hotels or motels. They all look like this. They never have enough light in them. My usual glasses got broken recently. They have a stronger tint than the ones I'm wearing now. These are an old pair. Funny, even with less tint, this hall is still so gloomy.

I've been watching the maids going through the halls. We went to the wrong floor at first. They aren't moving very quickly now, though. It's nearly three o'clock in the afternoon. These poor men and women have most likely been at it since six thirty this morning. Small wonder they aren't quite as peppy as they might be.

There aren't as many cleaners here, because these are mostly the board rooms. I saw a woman with a couple of kids go by, but it's a very quiet hall. Did you notice that there isn't even a painting to look at while we wait? Not that you could see it in this light.

I saw a man come out earlier. He asked me if I was me. I told him that I believed so. He was curious about where my Paralegal, Kathy, had gotten to. I told him that my husband had gone to look for her. She did know that we were here, though. He shook my hand. His name is Patrick something. He is tall and ever so thin. The sunken hollows of his cheeks look nearly bruised. My first impression was that he was bruised. I was shocked thinking that someone may have hit a man that old.

This one man will decide my fate. I looked in his eyes and felt the air. He is trained to be a pessimist. He is not jaded and cynical by the fraud he sees paraded before him at these trials. He feels more disappointed that most of these "younger people" just ‘don't want to try'.

I don't care if they call it a Tribunal. That's semantics. Nothing more substantial. I am on trial.

I have dared to claim that I am an unfit person. I just turned thirty three so I'm too young to try and say that I can't work.

It annoys me sometimes. I understand the difference between can't and won't. I felt so insulted when I got those letters from the faceless part of the government called Disability. People who never met me. People who obviously couldn't be bothered to read most of the things that I sent along because then they would have answers to most of their questions already. Who couldn't have done more than scan the original paperwork because then they would see how many times "continuous problem" was used.

Kathy came scurrying along with Terry. She asked me how I was and I only shrugged. By my standards, I'm having a pretty good day. The pain is only moderate. There aren't any spikes inserted along my ribs right now. That's a good thing. She reminds me that I will be questioned first then Terry will be. I'm not allowed to talk when it's Terry's turn. Not to correct or remind. I assured her that I understood. I was told to not take my medication at lunch time. Just so that I would not be in best form. Today, it isn't in my best interest to look too healthy.

We were escorted in because Patrick came out when he heard Kathy's voice. I assume he watched me limp. He made a point of walking behind me. Although, one could claim that he was merely being his age and letting the ladies go first. I'm pretty sure that Terry deferred to Patrick and let him walk ahead. Terry wasn't in the room very long. Patrick explained that I would give my testimony first then Terry would be asked back in. Terry said that he would be back in fifteen minutes. Patrick hedged but Terry said that he knew how long I could talk for.

I was given an oath saying that this was a legal proceeding and did I understand that lying was still considered perjury/fraud? I said yes. Not to mention that it affronts my moral values. Kathy looked at me and covered a grin.

I had to explain what a variety of medical terms meant. Endometriosis and it's various treatments. Scholiosis and it's treatments. Of which, I believe, there are none. Sometimes they put you in a brace. I explained how the scholiosis was discovered when I was ten. That thing they did to all of us in grades five and six? Take your shirt off, bend over and touch your toes. Then they look and run a finger along your spine to see if it is straight. Both years my parents received letters from the school saying that the curve in my back is too strong.

I exclaimed with a certain amount of morbid glee that I hadn't even realized that one leg was shorter than the other until this year.

Kathy asked me what I do. Where do I go for community functions, etc? I must have looked so stupid just staring blankly at her. What do I do? Nothing. I don't go out. I had the same barely suppressed sarcasm as I stated that I get to do the kitty litter because Terry doesn't like it. The box is right near a door so I can, sort of, slide down the wall to get to the box. It takes me a few minutes to get up but I manage after a while. I hold the door, the stove. Hope the stove isn't on and I just haven't noticed it yet...

I tried to include Patrick what's-his-name. Seating was arranged poorly. The normal, North American idea of polite and attentive communication dictates that I look at the person who addresses me. Patrick was just off to my left. And seated just far enough back that when I looked at Kathy, I could barely get him in my peripheral vision.

Kathy asked me about getting dressed. I said that I could manage it most the time. I showed Patrick that there was a way of putting on T-Shirts without really trying to raise your right arm. She asked about my hair. Did I wash it? Reluctantly I admitted that I have left it a day or two sometimes because I knew I couldn't get my arms to stay up that high long enough to do it.

Kathy asked if Terry washed my hair. I said that Pride hadn't let me go that far yet. That one day, after a few particularly bad days, I would have that dignity ripped from me too. I would have to ask for help but not yet. I had been forced to have days when I pointedly tell Terry to listen for me. In case I fall when I'm in the shower.

I told her I was too stubborn to quit and too stupid to die.

Kathy pointed out that I had an Obus Form. She wondered if there were any other mechanical/ support things that I had to use? I told her about my cane collection. The one I started at fifteen. The problem is that it's my left leg that drags but it's my right shoulder that my ex-husband felt the need to dislocate. It makes it hard to use the cane because my arm and shoulder can't take the strain. So I just drag it along. It doesn't care.

They learned of the childhood surgeries. The problems seeing and hearing feeling. The sleepless nights that last forever because they last for weeks. If you go by sleep ending one day and beginning the next, I've had a week that was only two days long. Of my work with horses and as a superintendent. I explained that up until about four years before, I had been in the physical aspects of Property Management. Then I squirmed my way into an office.

I kept my composure. I explained. I know that there were no inconsistencies between what I wrote and said. I didn't break until Kathy asked me about work.

Patrick got me Kleenex from the bathroom when I hung my head. I explained that I could probably bluff my way into a job but it wouldn't be long before the boss, most likely in a kind and patronizing way, told me what we both knew. I couldn't keep up. No business can afford their employees forgetting some of the simplest things in the world. Or that suddenly snapped at a client because the employee was in the throes of an adrenaline rush that she had no control over. I said that this had been my life for so long that I'm usually aware of it and tell my family that it isn't their fault.

I looked at Patrick and asked him what company would have an employee that had to go to the bathroom every twenty minutes? Who would have to lie down without warning? Or one that during all difficult weather would be calling in and saying that there is no way they were even facing the bus much less the job?

After about half an hour, Patrick stood up and said that he was going to get Terry now. I was surprised into blurting: "You don't want to question me, too?"

Patrick smiled and said that my councillor had done quite well. I asked Kathy quietly if I could use the bathroom and while I was in there, they started with Terry. So I missed a few minutes. Terry was in tears . Patrick got up to get him Kleenex but I know my Terry. I already had grabbed a couple of extras.

I held his hand as he explained what I was able to do. How the chores were split up among the family.

Kathy shocked me with a question. Could she live alone, Terry?

Terry shook his head. He said that he knew how stubborn I was. I would certainly try if it was thrust on me but I wouldn't survive very well or very long. I couldn't do the shopping or the laundry. I don't know if Patrick was watching the emotions run across my face. As soon as she asked it I know I looked surprised. Then I frowned because I knew that Terry was telling the truth.

If I was alone, without having Bryce to think of, I would likely be dead within a year. I would starve. I had nearly done it before when trying to be sure that Bryce would eat. I wouldn't care. Death will hurt less than what I live with. I'm not frightened of death. I don't particularly want it, there is still so much I would like to learn and do. But I stopped being afraid of death long ago. Now that I think of it.... I can't ever remember being afraid of death. I always knew it would be less painful.

They only talked to Terry for about fifteen minutes. He was quiet and emotionally spoken.

Kathy summed up. She reminded Patrick that there is no indication that if it were possible, that I wouldn't work. I was very obviously willing. She gave me a wonderful compliment by saying that my "intelligence shone forth". I don't happen to see how. I just explained it to them. But I appreciate the compliment anyway.

Patrick thanked her and us. He reminded us that they give themselves sixty days to decide my fate. I shook his hand and then ha-ha'd Terry when I managed to get to carry the Obus. I pointed out to him that he had the heavy bag. I get to carry something too if I can. I didn't see Terry roll his eyes. I'd put money down that he did, though.

Kathy said that I had been a brave woman in there. I had downplayed my actual condition.

I don't see how but Terry piped up that I always did that. I had been trained to. She said that she thanked god for Terry's emotionalism. I protested that I had cried. But I didn't like to because it's hard to stop once I start.

Are you going to have to be here long? I don't know if all the adjudicators are kind seeming as Mr.... Patrick. I hope that you get him to listen to you.

I don't see any cleaners anymore. It's after four. I guess that they are done for the day. Too bad they couldn't put some brighter bulbs in those fixtures, huh?