I started back at the Bell Home eleven days before my first day at the IRS. I had a mobility instructor, Patty Willits, who was one of the few people my grandma could tolerate in doses—she just didn’t like Patty very much.
My first week was fairly easy, almost like a blessing. I hadn’t received my PC yet, so I spent most of the time sitting at my desk doing nothing. Finally, I told Debbie, “Debbie, I think there’s a situation you need to know about.”
She asked, “What is it, Jeremy?”
I explained that I hadn’t been trained in the software her team used in class. She blinked and said, “What? You’re joking.”
“No,” I replied. “I was originally scheduled for Kesha’s team, but then I was moved to yours. I don’t know your software at all.”
Debbie looked shocked. “Surely you jest.”
“No, I do not. I was trained to work down the hall, not here.”
She asked, “What class were you in—CSR or CSSR?” I told her, and she shook her head. “Oh dear… you’re right. You weren’t trained for our software. Crap—we’re going to need to retrain you.”
For legal reasons, I won’t go into acronyms or specific software names, even though Debbie explained it in detail. Let’s just say the IRS takes compliance very seriously, and I didn’t want the Treasury Inspector General knocking down my door.
Eventually, I moved to another team and did barcode scanning and data entry. Again, I’m leaving out specifics, but that’s what my work involved. This continued until 2009.
Then came a dark time. In 2005, Lou, the director of the Bell Home at the time, passed away. About a month later, after an alumni convention for the Indiana School for the Blind, the Bell Home caught fire because lightning struck the attic furnace. We had to pack a few things and spend a few nights in a hotel.
When I had gone to the alumni convention, I’d hired a stretch limo to get there, and my mom brought me back afterward. After the fire, my mom hired the same man to drive me to and from work during those two weeks while we stayed at the hotel. He worked in Covington, so he was able to provide transportation both ways.
Remember back in the Blind School chapter when I mentioned the devil playing tricks on me, making me think Burt’s spirit was contacting me? Well, that was around 2007, and it was also the same time my friend Bernice saved my life.
In 2007, I hadn’t been eating properly. Add that to some other self-inflicted problems I could have avoided if I’d just listened to my family, and I ended up in a dangerous situation—one that is outside the main story, so I won’t go into the financial stuff. But God saved me. I had a fever of 105.7, and it took Bernice’s call—God bless her—and the cook at the time finding me near death and calling my mom. When I get sick, I don’t just get a little sick. No, I get death’s-door sick. My immune system isn’t great, and my body can spike a fever instantly. Both combined to put me in a very bad spot.
Had the former cook, Frieda, not found me, I wouldn’t be here. I spent a week in the hospital and another at my grandparents’ house. I lost 35 pounds during that time. Luckily, I had a laptop from my mom via Dianne, and I spent the next week playing The Sims at my grandma’s new house.
It was also during this period that I stopped attending Oak Hills Church of Christ for reasons I won’t go into in detail. But I remember when I first attended Oak Hills, it was vibrant—everyone danced, and flags were used during worship. It was lively, full of energy and joy. Later, the kids’ church service, which we had run for three years, was taken from us and given to someone else. The adults tried to pay them, but the people refused.
I remember one kid asking for Austin and me as Sunday School teachers again. The adult teacher told the kids to sit down or she’d tell their parents they were being disrespectful. I walked over to the little girl who had spoken up and said, “Even though she isn’t us, she’s doing her best. You need to respect her. I know it stinks, but don’t mistreat her because she’s not us—we taught you all to listen and obey your elders.”
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and then Add to home screen.