Well, the forms are in and the date’s been set for my face-to-face PIP assessment.
Do I spend the next couple of weeks fretting and worrying?
I did that yesterday and ended up a nervous wreck, my brain fit to explode. I can’t live this way and I’m not ready to give up, not just yet.
My MS is my MS. No one knows it better than me and only I know what it’s taken from me and what it continues to take, bit by bit, like some insatiable beast.
In the back of my mind, there is always that alternative; give in, give up. Admit defeat. Believe me, I’ve been close far too many times to count. It whispers in my ear. I’m there right now, teetering on the edge.
Everyone with MS knows that we just have to take each day as it comes. You can go to bed one evening, congratulating yourself for a ‘good-ish’ day (which to anyone else, would be pretty dire) and be on the floor (literally) the next. We take nothing for granted.
PIP is nothing to celebrate; the title of this blog is of course heavily ironic. MS is still incurable. I still spend far too many days alone at home, pinned down by endless symptoms. My life has shrunk to a fraction of its former size. Will I be able to convey this? I truly hope so.
Anyone going through this PIP exercise is aware that you have to focus entirely on what you cannot do, and for some of us, this is a brutal and cruel wake-up call. Over the years we adapt and accommodate each limitation, perhaps not noticing until all those limitations builds up to a traumatic picture of loss. In some cases, like mine, MS appears overnight with a massive relapse, affecting speech, balance and cognitive functions all in one devastating blow.
I had no time to adapt back then and the change was instant, with every area of my life affected – bye-bye job, bye-bye partner. In short, I am battle-scarred, and this is yet another battle.
I am scared. There, I’ve said it.
Actually, I am terrified. The stakes are pretty high and I am trying to block out what could happen. So, to end on a positive note, in other news:
- The Cat seems to be cured of her flea-bite allergy. Yay. She has also overcome her resistance to a basket I bought her in a ‘Pets At Home’ online sale. After ignoring it for weeks, deliberately sleeping right next to it, she is now in it, and loving it.
- The Teenager has popped home a few times to use my washing machine and play loud music. I have ear plugs, it’s fine.
- The Boss brought over two huge boxes of chocolates last week, when I was off work and feeling poorly.
And there was me hoping to report an astounding weight loss …
Hi, I just wanted to say I enjoy reading your posts and will keep everything crossed for you with your PIP ordeal.
I’m expecting the dreaded envelope any day. It’s such a massive trigger for my anxiety. I’m trying to tell myself it isn’t personal, and the reason we are being put through this is because the benefits system as as it was didn’t fliter out those who were making fraudulent claims. We are paying the price for the dishonesty of others who lied about their diagnosis and symptoms.
Stay strong. You will get through this.
Thank you so much 🙂
I know exactly what you mean. It’s an incredibly personal experience but you have to tell yourself not to take it that way. Really confusing. It stripped me totally bare, writing out my forms and I’ve got to remember to stay positive. I think we’re also paying the price for the banking crisis and recession – we’re soft targets, and it’s easy to whip up hatred through the media. Mind you, the whole Capita/Atos nonsense has now backfired spectacularly – an absolute mess!