Sleepless in Seattle

In the fourth episode of the first season of How I Met Your Mother, Ted Mosby reviews his past relationships in search of a lost gem. Just like I love this shirt I used to overlook, he says, perhaps I've overlooked the right woman just because she came to me at the wrong time. I won't tell you how that story ends, except to say that no, she was not in fact Ted's lost gem. All the things he didn't like about her came back to the surface, probably even stronger than they had before. She was not a bad girl, just not a girl he wanted to commit to.

That's the way I felt about the Space Needle, and the way the Space Needle felt about me. Our first relationship was great, and we both got what we wanted. I got a paycheck, and they got a dedicated employee. The Space Needle came to me at just the right time -- in between a marriage and my admission to a 4-year university, and when we parted ways it was with both confidence in the future and thankfulness of what we had been able to give each other. One of my close friends came out of that job, as did an architectural reminder of the beginning of my life in that city.

So when I went through my period of remission, the Space Needle is unsurprisingly what came to my mind. Just like Ted's ex-girlfriend, I wanted to rekindle my relationship with it with the expectation that it would give me what it did before. And at first, it did. My supervisor was still there, seven years later (and had been for 34 years), and she welcomed me with open arms. She spoke of coworkers we had both known -- women who had passed through the system on their way to achieving higher education. I'm so proud of my girls, she said, You guys are all so smart.

I was happy to be back until I stepped back into the uniform room. Sure, the job had been great back then, when I was young and getting on my feet. But the smell of the room brought back memories both good and bad, and I felt like I had stepped back in time. Current uniform employees proudly introduced me to our clients -- current Space Needle employees -- and while it felt good to be so appreciated, I couldn't also help but feel a little bit like a failure that I had returned to this entry-level job after seven years of schooling. Not all of it was bad though, and most of it was good. It felt good to get up in the morning, take a shower, and take the bus to work. It felt good to leave work and traipse about the city as a wage earner. It felt good to have a reason for an ipod, a backpack, and a coin purse for bus fare. But unfortunately the Space Needle wanted what I couldn't give it. It wanted double shifts and frequent early mornings, and the ability to walk an hour each way to and from the bus. The double shifts and early mornings weren't part of the job description, and despite my best effort my body shut down and I lost the job. But, just like Ted realized that his ex wasn't right for him the second time around, I realized that the Space Needle was not right for me. I have frequently set my bar too low in the jobs I'll take -- jobs that don't coincide with my education and experience. I looked to the Space Needle at my lowest and most lonely point, but the universe knows there is something better for me out there.

Four days after losing my job at the Needle, which I worked for a total of two days, my sleep study revealed that I do in fact have sleep apnea. I wake myself up 10 times an hour due to shallow breathing, and the test showed that I got 70 minutes of deep sleep in the 8 hours I slept at the center. This knowledge should help me get to where I need to go, which is a) a state of normal functioning with a CPAP machine, or b) a diagnosis enabling me to receive social security if the CPAP machine doesn't help enough. Just how bad my particular case of sleep apnea turns out to be and just how much it is contributing to my symptoms remains to be seen, but I go forward with the hope that I will once again wake up on an early (or late) morning and make the commute to a job in the city that I love. The Space Needle and I may have broken up, but the right working relationship is out there somewhere.

One Step Forward, Two Steps Back

For the past week or two I've been hooked on Teen Mom. After watching a few of the episodes during random channel surfing, I watched Season 2 in its entirety on Comcast. Then I had to watch Season 1 of 16 and Pregnant, which is essentially Season 1 of Teen Mom, and now I am watching the real Season 1. Now when I yell at my roommate's cat Pixie I now feel like I sound like Amber, and when I state "No one helps me," I feel just like Farrah. But, let's back up a bit.

In a way I was a Teen Mom. My sister was born when I was thirteen, and I was mostly responsible for raising her during her first four years. Just like some of the girls on the show I had a non-traditional home life where I had to take care of myself. I wasn't encouraged or able to go off to 4-year college but instead find my own way in the world with bits of help from my family. When I left my sister at seventeen, I was filled with guilt at what felt like abandonment. I was her safe haven and I had no safe haven of my own, but instead greatly took what my extended family could give me and charged forward to make my own life. So when Farrah cries, "No one helps me" with her baby on her lap, and when Amber cries because her cheap car breaks down leaving her no way to get to GED classes, I completely sympathize. When they make breakthroughs against all odds, I cheer with understanding. (Though, to be honest, I don't have much understanding for Amber. See why here.)

Lately I've been going through a period of remission. Two years ago I had one that lasted six months, and I have no idea how long this one will last. Last week as I took out the trash, it suddenly occurred to me that I am probably well enough to work as a uniform attendant at the Space Needle -- a job I did seven years ago before going off to college (at the non-traditional age of 26). Before, the thought of work overwhelmed me, but with my bout of wellness it seems completely manageable, confirming my roommate's suspicion that my strong work ethic would return as soon as I had a strong body. With the trash taken out, I sat down at my computer, opened the Space Needle webpage, and saw to my surprise that there was indeed an opening for 10 hours a week. I sent in my resume and cover letter and got a call the next morning. Friday I had an interview, and today I got a call that I got the job.

I'd checked with my disability lawyers before applying, but I didn't check with the Department of Social and Health Services. Incidentally, because of that little bit of work, my cash and medical benefits will terminate at the end of this month. No matter that "uniform attendant" is the only job my body can handle and that it can't do more than the 10 hours a week. Instead I am being punished for not sitting home all day even though I can't be out full time. When I discovered this, and when I was also told that I'd be losing benefits anyway because of some sort mid-review failing, I got off the phone, chocked in my tears, and channeled Farrah by calling my lawyers. I then called my aunt and my public health counselor. A lawyer skilled in working the DSHS system will be calling me today, and my counselor, who has ever and increasingly been my rock, will send a letter stating that I need my medical benefits to last at least another six months.

Living as a single woman in these economic times is not easy, and living as a disabled one is even worse. Worse still is living as a single disabled woman without a correct diagnosis. Aside from the results of my sleep study which I'll get next week, all avenues geared toward finding out what's wrong with me have been exhausted. Either my remission will turn out to be a complete healing, or my counselor and lawyer will have to stress my need for benefits based on "psychological incompetency" and anxiety, even though the counselor -- and I -- are convinced that the anxiety is secondary to a real medical condition that hasn't been discovered yet. I'm fine with this, especially because I walk through the Seattle city streets and ride the city bus with a smile on my face, knowing that I am once again a productive member of society.

Next up on "Dating with a Disability" is a dentist with a fetish and Valentine's Day speed dating. Stay tuned!