It's a battle for benefits. (Shrewd Moves).

Well, it is five years from the day that forever changed the letters M and S from simple consonants into scarlet letters that can jump up and bite my heart. I almost lost my spirit a year ago when I learned I would need to apply for Social Security to obtain long-term disability benefits.

I had applied for Social Security four years earlier when I lost my career. I was denied. The denial letter read, "Your arms work, your legs work, and you can work." I was actually excited. They denied my claim ... I must be fine! But since I actually couldn't work, the letter must mean I was doing something wrong. It must somehow be my fault.

A second try

I reapplied three years ago. I knew the second denial was coming. It was one of the worst days of summer -- you know the kind. I could actually see the heat when I looked out of my window. The driveway seemed to stretch and steam all the way to forever. I began the descent to our mailbox. Butkus, my loyal black Labrador, was right there. He's kind of chubby, but he's OK with himself. So we get to the end of the driveway and I open the mailbox. At this point I am standing in 100 [degrees] temperature and the letter from Social Security says the same thing.

I just plopped down on the curb and began to cry. First, for obvious reasons, but then because the heat was overwhelming me. I was trapped in my body and had no idea how I would ever get back inside my house.

I might have stayed there forever, but Butkus could take it no more. A black fur coat in 100 [degrees] heat. He put his nose under my armpit and nudged. He kept barking and nudging while I yelled at him to shut up. The fact that he ignored me infuriated me. But the moment I grabbed his collar something dawned on me. If this were a cartoon, I'd draw a light bulb over my head. I wasn't a person without a career. I had a job. The job was me! I needed to delegate tasks, just as I had done when I was an executive with a staff to manage. Butkus had a plan for me, which I needed to recognize. I grabbed his collar, and he pulled me up the driveway.

From that point forward, I used my business mind to deal with my worst employee: my own body. I cannot fire her, so I have to nurture and teach her--and still she fails me just when I want to count on her. Delegating has become second nature. My aunt gave me a few hints. She said, "Lean instead of stand. Sit instead of leaning, and absolutely ask for help when you need it." Life got a lot better, but I still needed Social Security.

And for the third try ...

I got a lawyer. I know I am truly sick and I need and deserve the SSDI but still I felt deeply mortified; I was about to go before a judge. It felt like begging. I hate the fact I have to nap five times a day to manage my MS fatigue.

I met my lawyer in his office. I began to explain that I had been in line for executive VP and had a six-figure salary when I was diagnosed. I should have noticed that his eyes glazed over right after I said I had MS. No need to know about me. I wasn't Beth; I was MS. Months went by and I heard nothing more from him.

Lose to win?

We finally met again two weeks before the court date. He asked me how I was feeling and interrupted my reply to discuss his strategy. He told me he would say, "Judge, she is a human paperweight." I think I went into shock. I asked him if this was because I don't look sick. He assured me that the judge understands that MS has invisible symptoms. I felt better until he told me I am too abrupt when I speak. He told me not to wear makeup to court. He told me how to dress (dowdy) and not to blow-dry my hair. I had thought he would tell the judge the truth about my illness. Silly me.

Court day

I awoke nauseated and thought it was nerves, or fear. These are not feelings I am familiar with. I've always been at my best with an audience, and under pressure. I called my friend Sandy and told her I needed moral support. Sandy used to work for me; she was my best manager. She promised to be there.

So into the courtroom we went, my lawyer, my friend Sandy, and me. After preliminaries, the judge asked me the main question. I realized I was in a battle. So I spoke up for myself: "Your honor, I am a businesswoman; I will always be one." Then I told him in a strong, unemotional voice about every daily symptom I live with, and how I manage each. For example, I explained how I fell down the stairs three times, treated this as a business problem, and applied a logical solution. I moved my bedroom downstairs. I explained that I have a job. My job is being me. I have to assess my problems, apply solutions, and delegate whatever I can.

My lawyer interrupts and says, "But Beth, can you lift a ten pound sack of potatoes?" He was trying to make me look pathetic. Before I could respond, the judge tells my lawyer that I have just explained how I ration my energy.

The judge and I continue. We talk about my memory and my cognitive problems in detail. He asks if I can do domestic chores. I smile and say, "No, your honor, but I consider this a perk. I chose a career because I never had a domestic gene in my body." We laugh. My lawyer looks like a deer in headlights. The judge asks me about hobbies, and I tell him I love to read. We get side-tracked and have a conversation about some of my favorite authors.

"Judge, did we tell you about her problems with memory?" my lawyer almost begged.

The judge just looks at me, and while I'm still talking, he picks up a box of tissues and asks me if I need one.

"Why would I? I've done all my crying," I said. He replies, "Not you, I am asking for your friend." Behind me, Sandy was crying her eyes out.

As we finished, the judge said, "Beth, you should have been a lawyer." I thanked him. I went to comfort Sandy and she told me she had never been so proud of anyone in her whole life. She said, "Beth you did what you always did best. You took control of a bad situation and showed that judge exactly who you are."

I won. I am not pathetic. I am not a human paperweight. I am strong. I happen to be sick as well. Two months later I got the government's confirmation. I had won my benefits.

Beth Rothstein Ambler lives in New Jersey. Her husband, Chuck, hates typing as much as she hates housework, so mastering voice-recognition software is now on her agenda.