Therapy

This is number 12 in the series Vision: A Journey

I did not know where to even begin looking for a good therapist. So once again, Rebecca came to my aid. She found an ad in the Minnesota Women’s Press for a therapist (Kate) who had an office only a few blocks from my house. Even better, the first appointment was free so that we could determine if working together would feel safe and positive. Rebecca called and made an appointment for me.

Although Kate was out of my insurance network, I applied for and received an exemption, so I only had to pay a small copayment. My argument was that I could walk to her house (this was important, since I could not drive due to my impaired vision) and because, as I learned in our first conversation, she had experience working with people who had a disability. Rebecca walked with me to my first appointment, helping me find the door to Kate’s office at the back of her house.

What I Gained from Therapy

And so I began my relationship with Kate, a warm, compassionate and skilled therapist who helped me in profound ways. I told Kate that I had been feeling sad and depressed, and described the losses I was experiencing. I remember tearing up as I told her about my loss of central vision, of independence (needing to be chauffeured by Michael), and of the inability to read books, after having been an avid reader all my life. Then I described the experience of suddenly losing my father, the feelings of loss brought on by Michael’s cancer and treatments, and finally, the loss of a close relationship with Rebecca.

Kate began by asking me to describe my family. During those first sessions, I seemed to spend a lot of time (and became quite emotional) talking about my mother. At some point, Kate helped me realize that perhaps one of the reasons I was so driven to achieve and excel was because I was seeking the praise and affirmation my mother did not offer me. That was quite a revelation, as I had never before tried to understand why I worked so hard and was so determined to excel. Our discussions led me to ask my mother about a few incidents that had bothered me about our relationship in the past. As a result, my mother actually apologized to me, asking for my forgiveness. Instantly my feelings towards my mother changed. For the rest of her life we talked nightly on the phone and had a warm, loving connection.

Over the years I worked with Kate, she helped me understand why and how Rebecca was separating from me, and that it was ok for me to be sad and try to pull her back. Kate did reassure me that Rebecca would return at some point, and that she loved me. Rebecca even joined me for a session when she was back in town, and that was very helpful. And Kate was correct about Rebecca returning to me in time.

As I talked about my life, Kate noticed that I frequently reported how stressed I felt about my work and what I needed to do to maintain my career and productivity goals. In particular, I was trying hard to write and obtain grants to fund my research and reduce my teaching load, as well as to support my work during the summers. Like most faculty, I was on a nine-month appointment and always scrambling to find funding for the summer months. I complained about how my life was out of balance and that I was exhausted from working so hard.

These days, I better understand why I was so tired, and how everything I did took longer and was more challenging because of my vision loss. In my quest to lead a “normal” life, I had neglected to acknowledge the impact of my disability. Recently, my friend Karen shared a documentary film with me about artists who deal with vision loss. I watched it with great interest and empathy. One particular story offered me new insight. It was about a vision-disabled author, trying to give a poetry reading and having trouble despite enlarged print and bright lights. He talked about the strain of trying to act “normal.” His story helped me realize the toll that trying to keep a regular work load and job after losing my central vision had taken on me.

Requesting a Disability Leave

Back in 2006, Kate asked if I had thought about applying for a disability leave. I had not. I loved my work and was involved in many projects and activities. Kate suggested I explore a leave that would release me from a fulltime workload, based on my vision loss.

As a result, I applied for and received a Family Medical Leave (FML) for one semester, during which time I was released from teaching and other responsibilities. I then received a partial disability leave that reduced my appointment to 66.7 percent. I would receive two-thirds of my salary, but university insurance would cover a good amount of the remainder. I would receive full benefits, and best of all, I would be funded in the summers. From 2007 until I turned 65 in 2015, I received disability benefits and a reduced teaching load. I negotiated a load of one class per year, one of the two statistics education courses I had created for the new graduate program that had launched in 2002. I was relieved that I would not have to teach in a big lecture hall, unable to see my slides nor students’ faces.

A challenge in obtaining the disability leave was needing to have my disability certified each year. Given that my vision loss was permanent, this seemed to be an unnecessary hurdle. A doctor was required to complete a form certifying that I was unable to perform my fulltime job responsibilities. In my case, I needed the doctor to report that it was too difficult for me to have a regular teaching load of four classes a year, and that I needed to teach small classes or seminars. I felt I was capable of teaching just one course a year. The rest of my time would be spent on service to the university and to my academic community, research and grant work, and advising graduate students. I was able to negotiate this plan with my current department chair. Now I needed a doctor to certify this recommendation.

At first, I asked my primary care doctor to complete the form for me. But she refused, saying she did not know me well enough or understand the effects of my vision loss. I felt humiliated and disappointed, and never returned to her again.

After doing some research, I called the Department of Occupational Medicine at my clinic. I was able to find a very kind and sympathetic doctor who completed the first form for me. I met with her again the next year and once again, she filled out and signed the form. Then this doctor left the clinic. The following year I made an appointment with a different doctor in that department, and what a mistake that was. She treated me with coldness and skepticism. Despite all the records about my vision loss and eye surgeries, she asked me to take an eye test in front of her so she could confirm my poor eyesight. Afterwards, this doctor read the questions on the form out loud, questions such as when would I be healed and able to return to fulltime work. Hearing these questions caused me to start crying as I was confronted with the hopelessness I felt about recovering my lost vision. This woman looked at me coldly and asked, “Why are you crying?” She reluctantly completed the forms and I left her office, vowing never to ask her to help me again.

After that upsetting appointment, I found a different doctor to complete the form the following year. To my relief, this doctor was kind and compassionate. But even going through this yearly ritual elicited feelings of anxiety and sadness as I reiterated how my limited vision affected my work, and that my eye condition would not improve. I dreaded this annual appointment.

However, the disability leave brought many unforeseen benefits and eased my life considerably. I will forever be grateful to Kate for encouraging me to apply for this leave.

Next post: Finding Balance