3.5 based on 2 reviews

6 Comments

  1. Anonymous says:

    10 years and still waiting. 123 exhibits of doctors notes with issues I have. That’s not the problem. The problem is if you can wiggle your toes or fingers, you can work. After being a Office Manager/bookkeeper for 18 years she said I can clean houses or work in a cleaners. That’s what the so called vocational expert said telephonically. We just have to take his word for it. Mind you the medical records show I can’t even do my own housework. I have carpel tunnel in both wrists, my fingers go numb and my hands and wrists hurt all the time. I also have bad knees which I get a new shot that can only be given yearly, trying to prolong getting surgery. My feet are always cold and hurt. I have a bad back and have to get ablations every few months for the pain. They burn the nerves. That’s just a few things that are wrong with me. Depression and anxiety that go back to childhood. Judge Walls doesn’t even believe my primary doctor or my doctors at the Core Institute. I’m turning 60 in a few weeks. Judge Walls knew she was going to deny me, so why don’t they just tell you then instead of waiting 3 months. About 6 years ago the appeals council indicated that the judge needed to change their decision. The problem with that is you don’t get the same judge so no one follows the rules. I truly believe that she is a DEMOCRAT that’s why she wasted my attorneys and my time, then she waits almost the full 3 months. Well I’m not going away. I worked for 40 years and paid into the system along with my employers. That’s for in case of a disability. I really find it hard to believe that a disability judge has the power to destroy someone’s life. I bet she doesn’t lose any sleep at night. The disabilty judges don’t even do their jobs. I hope she doesn’t get re-appointed. I will also be getting in touch with Governor Ducey and Senator McSally about why judges can dismiss a direct order from the Appeals Council. My last court date only covered what kind of jobs I can do. She didn’t even take into account, my current condition. In 10 years my conditions have only gotten worst. Who gives her the right to call my doctors liars. No compassion. If she can call my doctors liars then why can’t we call the employment expert a liar. We didn’t even get to see his resources and how many other people has he given the same results to and how many jobs were there and in what state are they in. Cleaners, I didn’t even know they still exist!!! What an insult and demeaning after what I have done and gotten paid in the past. They do base it on the national job search at the time of your hearing. I’m sure it changes every week. Just because we are disabled doesn’t mean we’re stupid. Very disappointed in the Arizona court system. This judge doesn’t deserve any stars. Amazing. I bet if I were an illegal, I would of been approved 10 years ago and I probably didn’t even need to be disabled. It’s a shame that no one reads the comments except maybe the people that were denied…..

  2. Anonymous says:

    I’ve been thinking about that judge a lot over the past year, feeling rage as I remember her skepticism at the severity of my illnesses. Why? Because I am reserved. Because I was raised in a home where it was not safe to express pain, grief, depression, anxiety-not even joy was welcome, because it was “too much.” The only welcome expressions were piety and submission. I covered my physical and emotional pain for three decades. And now I’m supposed to perform for a woman who has the details of my life in great detail? She has medical records, personal accounts, counseling notes, the nitty gritty descriptions of the trauma I’ve been through, the acts of violence I have survived, the repercussions of physical, chronic illness-many of them the result of said trauma. And now I’m supposed to be a marionette and SHOW her my pain? I am not a faker. I am not a malingerer. I struggled with a flat affect for most of my life. I learned through the violence bestowed upon me that expressing my emotions or any sign of weakness will only end in harm. I have been beaten, raped, dismissed, denied, and even made homeless because of weakness, pain, and even compassion. I have experienced things that would make this woman catatonic. And now she wants to shoot at my feet with the power she wields to make my life livable, and order me to dance? At what point in the seven years of scrutiny, of madness and excruciating pain, were my symptoms, my cries for help, my doctors’ words that I could never work-I may become more whole mentally, but my health will continue to deteriorate-at what point did my evidence become not evidentiary of my disability? Oh, that’s right. I lost that right when I sought help. When I went to visit my family in another state, because clearly someone who is as grievously ill as I am couldn’t be wheeled in a wheelchair to and from the plane. Surely it’s common that a WELL ADJUSTED, HEALTHY PERSON would need to bring her emotional support CAT just to survive being home. Nevermind that my dad is a severely ill Vietnam vet. Obviously if I were REALLY ill, I’d just let him die alone with the primary cause of my CPTSD. Because disabled people don’t ensure there are no regrets when a loved one passes. Disabled people don’t live on the second floor of an apartment (which I didn’t even choose, and I live here for the grace of God). Nevermind that I go for days without ever going downstairs, because the pain of traversing them isn’t worth it. It’s almost as if the judges appointed to decide whether I’m worthy of receiving the money I put INTO Social Security, have never cracked open a book in their lives. Never spoken to an articulate, damaged, chronically ill person. I may howl like a wounded animal when I’m alone in my bed, vomiting over the side of the mattress into a barf bucket, but I can hold it together, thanks to the adrenaline of fear and anxiety, for half an hour in public. I may excuse myself to go vomit in the bathroom from pain…I may close my eyes and try to distract myself, but my illnesses have never been performative. Sorry, not sorry.

    Ironically enough, my chronic illnesses-there are eight-have rapidly progressed since my hearing. I haven’t been able to attend any social functions since December. I’ve had to cancel appointments with doctors because I was literally too sick to take a cab there. I’ve skipped appointments and went to the emergency room instead, barfing into a bag, praying the driver wouldn’t kick me out before we reached the hospital. I began low dose chemotherapy in June, because the pain from my illnesses, especially rheumatoid arthritis, was becoming so unbearable that I became suicidal. I wasn’t about to kill myself after the literal hell I’ve survived. So once a week, my partner injects me with poison, in hopes that I can participate in my life again, maybe go to some mental health classes at an organization downtown. Because I do want to live. I want the rest of my life to be the best of my life. When I look back on all the violence and evil I’ve endured, I don’t want that to be all that’s remembered about my life. We need to get rid of this idea that disabled people don’t want to get better. That they’re not allowed to be intelligent or self motivated. I can’t even count the times I was told I was too smart, too articulate, too hopeful, too driven to be disabled. This judge hammered another nail in my proverbial coffin when she declared I was making great progress. I guess any amount of effort in bettering my life disqualifies me from a quality of life through SSDI. Don’t crack open any self help books, you rape and abuse survivors! You’d sure as heck not try to grow as a person! And submit to every doctor that shoves a script in your direction, because you will be considered complicit in falsehood if you don’t! But don’t try *too* hard to feel better, or you’ll be declared “cured,” and left to fend for yourself for the rest of your existence! Maybe being denied will lead you to a life of accepting whatever scraps of compassion you can find. Maybe you’ll be homeless. Maybe you’ll settle for living with an abuser who demands you pay for your housing with your dignity and your body. But likely, you may just die. I am one of the lucky ones, I guess. I lived in gov’t housing until a friend who lived two doors down hung himself on a Sunday morning while I was sleeping at another friend’s house across town. My best friend saw I was declining, and possibly not long for this earth, because losing yet another person to suicide, seeing his empty home every day, might just be the thing that did me in. When my illness progressed, that person couldn’t bear to see me suffer, and treated me with a kindness that changed my view on how I saw them. So now, I have a place to live. It’s not ideal-they have their own anger issues to settle, and things are not always as peaceful as I’d like-but it sure beats dying alone, homeless, helpless, in the Arizona heat. I don’t know what I’ll do if they pass away. I have no way to support myself. What employer will hire me to do work from bed, at sporadic moments of the day, or middle of the night, typing words into a device while I’m in a fetal position, face smashed against the pillow? Oh, that’s right. I CAN STUFF ENVELOPES. I’ve been looking for this mythical employer since my SSDI decision was rendered, but I can’t seem to find the Xerox shop, or a time machine, to travel to a time when that was a real job and would pay me enough to live and pay my doctors/pharmacy/insurance company, and be okay with me doing it from my bed. Let me know if you guys find it. Because I *do* want to work-that’s never been a question. I want to work, contribute to the GNP, grow some pride in my job. I’d love to work nine hours a day, take the bus home, and feel satisfied. But, I’d also like to play racquetball, learn how to make boeuf en boite, go for a jog, teach yoga in San Francisco, and go on a date with Dwayne Johnson. However, I don’t see any of that happening in this lifetime.

    So, thanks, Judge W, for the consolation prize of back pay for a couple years when I was in gov’t housing. It really helps when I think of the corruption I experienced in state funded housing during that period. The sexual harassment, authoritarian rules, threats of homelessness, rape by another person in the program, as well as the constant gaslighting. You would really dig this place, they told me I was too intelligent to be mentally ill, too! Then they threatened to take me to a homeless shelter if I didn’t get a job. One of the bht’s would show up at my home at random times, sometimes 9, 9:30 at night, and make lewd inferences and stare at my breasts. It was a really edifying experience. I actually did get a job at my old employer, actually! And then I was fired because I was sick too much in the first two weeks of training. My anxiety was so bad, I’d get on the bus, and I’d hold onto the bus pole, my arms shaking from panic, a

  3. Anonymous says:

    I will post for judge Kelly walls first of all she was a very nice judge my hearing was the first my lawyer had with her since she came to az. I had lots of medical records I’ve seen my mental dr since 2006 my dr filled out rfc with restrictions that meet a listing for anxiety and depression she even said I would miss at least 4 days a month for dr apps or for my conditions judge walls completely ignored my rfcs and my side effects from medication she went by Dr notes that stated on 1 visit I felt a little better with new medication which a month later it wasn’t helping anymore which was about my 12 medication try ed for anxiety and depression also I have physical issues she ignored too

  4. Renee says:

    I have not seen any comments on Kelly walls.

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