January 11. Department of Motor Vehicles. As long as everything fits together, the process is remarkably efficient. You’re met, given a waiting number, moved from counter to counter in a matter of minutes, where documents are reviewed, a photo is taken, and a signature is made in a pink rectangle.

But Albany doesn’t know about the medical assessment my neurologist faxed and mailed there. I’ve never had an ID in New York State, and that’s why the assessment couldn’t be matched, filed, or processed. At least that is the reasoning, because there is nothing in the database.

The clerk does not yet know all the functions in the computer. A resolute head of department comes, looks over her shoulder and gives instructions. I ask a question. “Well, I’ll explain it again now, but I won’t explain it three times and I won’t explain it four times.”

I can get an ID card without a driver’s license first. With that, Albany should be able to assign and process the medical assessment. For the ID card, I’m told to get back in line at the counter where my photo was taken. I stand there for a while until the woman, whose job it is to make sure the counters are evenly filled, sees me and takes me to another counter. The clerk there knows nothing of my situation and starts everything over again. The head of department sees it and suspects that I am trying to cheat my way through. She gets angry.

After further explanations, I get my temporary ID. Now I have to call Albany.