I have returned from the weird world of opiate withdrawal, and as promised, I am ready to expound to you all, on the meanderings of my mind.
First I have to admit that Zooty was right (as if anyone doubted), there is a readership for this blog out there, with hundreds of views from ten different countries (U.K, Ireland, Australia, U.S.A, Bolivia, Thailand, Belgium, Italy, Sri Lanka, and Switzerland). That’s a lot of nations united by reading my blog, I thank you all, and hope I can think of enough things to write about to maintain your interest.
I’ve spent the last week lying on my bed, an activity that has become increasingly common in the last few years. In keeping with medical advice for cripples in my condition, I try not to stand when I can sit, and don’t sit when I can lie down. If you have only seen me somewhere ’round the world in some desolate, isolated, desert, then you can be forgiven for not realising that I have spent the majority of the last decade virtually bed-bound.
Things, however, are changing, thanks in part to a new pain specialist, new analgesia, and a realisation that if I have to wait for medical science to find a cure for my condition, I could find myself waiting a life time. That is why, somewhat over a year ago, I decided to ignore the pain (something I’ve had some practice doing) and start to exercise, and rebuild my atrophied muscles.
At first I joined a Tai Chi class, but had to give that up, as I was slowing the class down (not entirely a joke). Now I try to exercise at home, which is beginning to have an effect. These days, although I have a wonderful wheelchair that my friends conspired to get me (my friends seem to be making a habit of buying me wheeled vehicles), I am attempting to walk more, albeit slowly, and with style, using a walking stick. Walking may, however, get me in trouble with the government.
I said I would be telling you something about living as a disabled person (I prefer the term ‘cripple’) under this hostile and abusive British Government (how abusive, so much so that the U.N are investigating this government for Human Rights abuses against it’s sick and disabled population, the first country in history to be investigated for this. It’s weird how you don’t hear much about this in the mainstream media, don’t you think? You can check it out here;
and in many other sources).
Here’s the problem with me walking to get fit. When you fill in the forty plus pages of the disability benefit form, they ask you very strict questions about, how far you can walk, how much pain you feel, and how you go to the toilet (I’m not kidding about the toilet question). These are deliberately not open questions, they don’t want you to explain your situation clearly. I have to repeatedly write that I am always in pain, that I walk with the aid of a stick, and that with every step the pain increases. If you have met me, you probably have noticed this, my doctor and specialist certainly have, but the government refuses to take guidance from doctors (what do they know, after all).
A few years ago this led the Department of Work and Pensions (DPW) to conclude that, according to their letter to me, “I could walk as well as anyone, I just had to take my time and use a stick”, which is why they were stopping the money I used to lease a car. I had to appeal to get the money back. It took the appeal board a massive three minutes of deliberation to reinstate my benefit, but you may remember I was without a car for over a year.
This is my dilemma when I exercise and walk; the government interprets exercising as being fit and healthy and ready for work, they don’t acknowledge that after years of inactivity, it is going to take a lot of time and effort before I’ll be anywhere near normal (what ever that is). My next reassessment for benefit is due to start in September (the DPW loves to spend its resources reassessing people, to see if your circumstances have changed. They even regularly reassess people with multiple amputations, perhaps they think limbs grow back), and I have reason to worry that they will casually cut of my income, while I am in no fit state to earn my own money. If you think this won’t happen, I’m afraid you haven’t been paying attention.
A good friend asked me recently, if the demonisation of the disabled made me angry. I told her that what upsets me most, is the prevailing idea (a result, I believe, of government propaganda) that disability is a ‘lifestyle choice’ (a junior Tory minister actually said this), and that some how I want to waste the majority of my forties in bed, in pain, and in poverty (let’s be very un-british for a moment, and talk about money. As a general guide to how much disability pays, the government says no household should get more than £23,000 per year in benefit. Zooty and I get by on a little over half this). Do they not understand that, regardless of wanting to be healthy and pain free for its own sake, I have dreams and ambitions, things I desperately want to be fit enough to do. When, not if, I finally improve enough, I already have some secret plans (a secret known to quite a few, and one the rest of you will learn if you keep reading this blog) for how I would happily earn my own living.
I think that’s enough ranting for one blog. Over the last week I have found myself cogitating on this subject, and I thank you for allowing me to get it off my chest. Morphine withdrawal gives you a lot of time to think, unfortunately, not all those thoughts are beneficial. If any of you have ever wondered what opiate withdrawal is like, bye the way, let me assure you, it is not as glamorous as in the movies. Think of having the very worst man-flu, whilst being away with the fairies. Mentally, in fact, it feel like a practice run for alzheimer’s; not a pretty thought.
That was last week, now my heads back in the room, and my mind is improving day by day, I will think of a jollier subject to blog about next time. Even with all that is wrong with the world, I still look for the positive, and when I find it, I will be sure to share it with you.
Love & peace,
Zero