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ST. PETERS — Denise Halel was driving along Mid-Rivers Mall Drive on May 4 when life happened. Another driver took an illegal turn, and the two vehicles collided. Both drivers happened to be 70-year-old women, but neither was hurt badly. The vehicles, however, were totaled.

In the best of circumstances, dealing with the aftermath of a car crash can be a time-sucking and stressful affair. In a bit of ironic timing, my teenage son learned that lesson on the day I interviewed Halel. He called me from college, explaining the wreck he had just been in. Again, everybody was fine, but there were tow-truck companies to call, police reports to gather, insurance companies to deal with, and, oh yeah, he’ll be without a car for a few days or a couple of weeks.

Life goes on.

Four months after her crash, however, Halel still doesn’t have a vehicle. That’s why she wanted to tell me her story. Through a variety of circumstances, mostly related to a disability she’s had since she was in her 20s, Halel is stuck in a regulatory nightmare.

Halel was raised in Belleville and has spent most of her adult life in the St. Louis region. She retired after 20 years at Southwestern Bell, and then started a new career teaching at St. Louis Community College. She’s never let the fact that she uses a wheelchair stop her from pursuing her passions. She paints. She has volunteered at prisons. These days, she works a retail job.

Her specially adapted van, with a wheelchair lift, was totaled in the crash. “It was the best adaptive van I’ve ever had,� Halel says. Those types of vans are expensive, often in the $80,000 to $90,000 range, so she didn’t understand why her insurance company, Allstate, would only pay $40,000. She hired an attorney to help, but he’s more interested in going after potential medical bills, and she hasn’t had many of those, in part, because she no longer has transportation to get to the doctor.

Halel called the , a federally funded program operated by the state of Missouri that helps people with disabilities stay in their own homes, and, after a lot of back and forth and paperwork, they offered $18,000 to help with the van, but, again, that doesn’t get her across the finish line. The state agency that handles the program, with more than $70 million in federal funding, says some of its funding is currently restricted:

“Due to restricted funding, Missouri Vocational Rehabilitation is currently unable to provide services to all individuals with disabilities,� says the state’s website. “A statewide Order of Selection has been implemented. Individuals will be served on the basis of the severity of their disability.�

Two or three days a week, Halel calls a private transportation company to give her a ride to work. She wants to hold on to her job, even though paying to get a ride cuts into her paycheck.

“I have always worked my whole life,� Halel says. “I enjoy working. It gives me purpose.�

Halel spends much of her day on the phone or sending emails. She’s still trying to get the insurance company or vocational rehabilitation to help her replace her van. She’s filed the paperwork to get a replacement power wheelchair — at a cost of about $32,600 — but that hasn’t been replaced yet either. She used to swim at the YMCA a couple of days a week, but now she can’t drive there, so she tried to get in-home physical therapy, but she doesn’t qualify for that because she’s just a little bit too self-sufficient.

Halel feels like she’s in this weird regulatory hole where she can’t get helped — not quite disabled enough — but not quite independent enough, either.

“The bureaucracy is ridiculous,� she tells me.

The other driver in the wreck was given three tickets, including failure to yield. It turns out she’s a repeat offender. Last week, the other driver filed paperwork with the court showing she had completed the community service she was required to undertake as a replacement for traffic fines. But Halel, the victim, still has no replacement wheelchair or replacement van, and she’s afraid she’s going to lose her job because the private transportation she pays for is frequently late.

Halel told me she doesn’t want anybody to feel sorry for her — she’s proud of the life she lives — but she wants people to know that the safety net programs set up to help keep disabled people in their homes don’t always work the way they are intended.

“I’m frustrated at the lack of dignity in the process,� she tells me. “Every step has been blocked by something. I need my transportation back. I need help getting my life back.�