Not been one of my better days today. Physically, I feel exhausted, mentally I feel pummelled and emotionally I'm totally wrecked. OK, I've had some alcohol tonight - not much but the first in many months but it doesn't dull anything. On the contrary, it tries to remind me of parts of my childhood I would rather forget. The influence of it might manifest itself in this so be prepared!
Tomorrow morning, I have a medical assessment to see if I am eligible for payments under the Personal Independence Payment (PIP) scheme. I applied last January and it's taken this long for the claim to be considered. It can do a couple of things: 1) provide some financial benefit and 2) make the chances of getting a blue badge easier. The arthritis in my ankle is now permanently causing pain and difficulty walking and it's really the ability to park more easily that is important to me as, by the time I walk from a parking space to where I am headed, I am usually in real discomfort. I've finally accepted that I can take some pretty special photos and now I wonder just how many more I'll be able to produce. Even walking over the road to the promenade and back this afternoon wore me out.
Having said that, the cancer, together with the arthritis now invading my hands and several other problems means that housework, shopping, cleaning etc is quite difficult. My partner, for whom I am voluntary carer, does very little and is unable to take any responsibility so, effectively, the buck stops here.I have enough to live on and live relatively comfortably but not enough to maybe get in a cleaner/ironer/general helper a couple of times a week. Any extra monies would help pay for that.It's quite ironic really; my partner has a blue badge which allows much more flexible parking but it can only be used when she is in the vehicle and she doesn't really go out any more. My conscience (and general cowardly fear of wrongdoing) stops me using it whilst I am out alone.
Anyway, as I say, I have this assessment tomorrow morning, here at Bassett Towers. One reads all these terrible stories about how the Government is trying to limit benefit payments so I am envisaging a cross between the Gestapo and Mr/Ms Cynic of Cynic Road, Cynictown, Cynicshire. I hate the thought of being "tested" and always have done. It makes me feel incredibly vulnerable and scared so it's going to be a trial. It also serves to reinforce my disabilities which seem to have flourished in the last couple of years. It's my granddaughter's 2nd birthday tomorrow and my thoughts are constantly filled with silly things like I wont be able to play Chase with her or run around with her. I get so very angry at all this crap. I must have done some really bad things in a previous existence to have all this and, to be honest, I've almost got to the point where I don't care any more. If I am asked stupid questions tomorrow then I fear the worst. I've spent my whole working life in some authority and if some little upstart is going to start trying to piss me off then I'm prepared for that.
Still, on the good side, I've bought Isabelle her very first camera and a Sooty puppet. What child could ask for more? Please God that I am still around to teach her how to use a proper one.
As for those puzzled by the title, it's yer Macbeth, innit, and seems singularly appropriate.
Tomorrow morning, I have a medical assessment to see if I am eligible for payments under the Personal Independence Payment (PIP) scheme. I applied last January and it's taken this long for the claim to be considered. It can do a couple of things: 1) provide some financial benefit and 2) make the chances of getting a blue badge easier. The arthritis in my ankle is now permanently causing pain and difficulty walking and it's really the ability to park more easily that is important to me as, by the time I walk from a parking space to where I am headed, I am usually in real discomfort. I've finally accepted that I can take some pretty special photos and now I wonder just how many more I'll be able to produce. Even walking over the road to the promenade and back this afternoon wore me out.
Having said that, the cancer, together with the arthritis now invading my hands and several other problems means that housework, shopping, cleaning etc is quite difficult. My partner, for whom I am voluntary carer, does very little and is unable to take any responsibility so, effectively, the buck stops here.I have enough to live on and live relatively comfortably but not enough to maybe get in a cleaner/ironer/general helper a couple of times a week. Any extra monies would help pay for that.It's quite ironic really; my partner has a blue badge which allows much more flexible parking but it can only be used when she is in the vehicle and she doesn't really go out any more. My conscience (and general cowardly fear of wrongdoing) stops me using it whilst I am out alone.
Anyway, as I say, I have this assessment tomorrow morning, here at Bassett Towers. One reads all these terrible stories about how the Government is trying to limit benefit payments so I am envisaging a cross between the Gestapo and Mr/Ms Cynic of Cynic Road, Cynictown, Cynicshire. I hate the thought of being "tested" and always have done. It makes me feel incredibly vulnerable and scared so it's going to be a trial. It also serves to reinforce my disabilities which seem to have flourished in the last couple of years. It's my granddaughter's 2nd birthday tomorrow and my thoughts are constantly filled with silly things like I wont be able to play Chase with her or run around with her. I get so very angry at all this crap. I must have done some really bad things in a previous existence to have all this and, to be honest, I've almost got to the point where I don't care any more. If I am asked stupid questions tomorrow then I fear the worst. I've spent my whole working life in some authority and if some little upstart is going to start trying to piss me off then I'm prepared for that.
Still, on the good side, I've bought Isabelle her very first camera and a Sooty puppet. What child could ask for more? Please God that I am still around to teach her how to use a proper one.
As for those puzzled by the title, it's yer Macbeth, innit, and seems singularly appropriate.
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
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