Just what the Doctor ordered

The simplest of things seems to knock me off course these days; the occasions when I positively decide to do something seem to implode if I don’t immediately get on with it. Even the simple act of putting on a DVD or CD sometimes seems like it requires military precision. The ‘phone ringing makes me jump and totally distracts me; it’s almost as if each nerve ending is being given an electric shock. It really is quite strange, having to catch one’s breath before I can even utter a hoarse “hello” and, even then, I find myself unable to sustain a telephonic conversation with someone who has simply called to find out how I’m “getting on”.

Anyway, after such an eventful early evening, my beloved and I did eventually manage to settle down and start watching a DVD of ‘Doc Martin’ (Series One) and, it turned out to be my most sustained viewing experience for some considerable time. Although I identified, all too closely, with the “Docs” description of his panic attacks, the overall humour of the programmes seemed to confirm the adage that “laughter is the best medicine”. It was the first time, for the past week, that I have felt really capable of relaxing and, it was followed by a good (almost refreshing) night’s sleep.

Thanks Doc!

Progress Report

Another pendulum day but, overall more settled. After eleven hours in bed, my state of being in the early part of the day fluctuated, quite erratically, between reasonably alert and exhausted. Intermittent ‘cold flushes’ also seemed to take a starring role.

Yesterday afternoon, my beloved had taken a copy of the most recent DWP epistle, asking me to obtain a letter from my GP, down to the surgery; this afternoon, I had to go down to sign a consent form permitting the GP to send such a letter to the Department. [Evidently, neither the DWP nor the outsourced Medical Services are permitted to ask the GP for the pertinent letter; something to do with Data Protection.]

Whilst ma belle was delivering the letter to the surgery, I received a ‘phone call from the DWP which I had difficulty in coping with, as my emotions were so close to the surface, but they did suggest that, if I was unable to get the necessary doctor’s note, perhaps I could get one from my physiotherapist. Unfortunately, I knew that she had been incapacitated for some time, so it didn’t seem a viable option.

This afternoon, I received a ‘phone call from my physiotherapist and, the great news is that my acupuncture treatment will be resuming next week! She also offered to write a note in support of my application to have my assessment medical at home.

So, Sinna Luvva is looking forward to getting the needle! [Much preferred to “the slings and arrows …. ”].

Cloud Evasion

Although the stress clouds still loom heavily, my mind occasionally manages a siesta away from their shadow. A late afternoon diet of “Songs of Praise” and, “Johnny and the Bomb” (both on BBC1), have provided a suitable distraction from my woes. I even find it possible to count my blessings; a warm living room, food on the table when I’m ready for it and, above all, the loving care and attention of Helen, ma belle amoureuse. I am indeed privileged and, currently, berate myself for being such a wimp in the face of stress; unfortunately, I find it hard to thwart these little quirks of fate.

Many moments of today have found the real Malcolm in residence whereas; for much of yesterday, he was nowhere to be found!

Bliss was it in that night to be asleep

The good news is that I had the best night’s sleep that I’ve managed for ages. The surprising thing is that I’d already spent large chunks of the day, yesterday, collapsing into sleep at times when the miscellaneous aches and feelings of nausea and distress allowed this relief. So, it appears that my body had a lot of catching up to do!

Having just emerged from the duvet-lair and, feeling semi-alert, it’s too soon to know whether I’ve recovered from yesterday’s emotional trough. Trouble is, whenever I have these ‘setbacks’ it takes its toll on my beloved as well as me! To be a physical and emotional wreck is not a vocational choice and, I long for the day when I can get back to the energy levels (both physical and emotional) that will allow me to get on with some painting and a little bit of socializing. Meanwhile, in this day the Lord has made, I will attempt to rejoice and be glad.

Strange to think that a “good night’s sleep” is such a newsworthy event; lets hope that it can become a new habit (there’s nothing wrong with a bit of wishful thinking now and again).

5.00pm - A postscript to this item can be found on Heterocon's 'blog.

The unheeding bastards are still on the march

The saga continues. When my beloved contacted the DWP in York, yesterday, the person she spoke to ensured her that “yes indeed, the protocol is that we contact your GP and, we will see to that”. This morning a letter arrives from Jobcentre Plus (Part of the Department for Work and Pensions) in York with the following contents:

“I understand you would like a home visit, to get a home visit you will need to ask your own doctor for a covering letter to say why you need a home visit.

You could also telephone the centre in Leeds who arranged your appointment and ask them to arrange a home visit giving them details of why you need a home visit. …..

I am sorry I am unable to do this for you, the Medical Services team have asked that you telephone the above number as soon as possible for your appointment and request for a home visit.”

Remember, this Medical Services team are the very same ones who rang me and, to whom I explained the reasons why a home visit would be appropriate. They are also the ones who asked me to obtain a covering letter from my GP. My GP, when I had made the effort to visit him, explained that the protocol was for them to contact him … blah, blah, blah!

And, above all, remember my request was made on the form submitted to the DWP just over three months ago!

My health, which recently seemed to be showing modest signs of improvement, now seems to be heading towards a sharp decline.

Medical Services?

I would like to express my heartfelt gratitude to ‘ATOS Origin IT Services UK Ltd’ aka ‘MEDICAL SERVICES Provided on behalf of the Department for Work and Pensions’ for enabling me to cough my lungs up this morning, a result of an excessive inhalation of tar and nicotine in response to the stress they have caused!

Yesterday I reported on the breach of protocol, which I attributed to the DWP itself rather than their running dogs. Today I received, from MEDICAL SERVICES (aka ATOS Origin), a compliment slip with the hand written message “Please provide a letter from your GP to confirm …..Etc”, together with a reply paid envelope. At least my confidence is restored, to the extent that I hadn’t misunderstood their incorrect telephonically communicated instructions of the 18th inst, which made me feel something of a fool at yesterday’s GP appointment.

Meantime my beloved has managed to communicate, telephonically, with the DWP in York who have cancelled my appointment in the ‘locked box’ for 9 February and, they will be contacting my GP as per protocol.

The question now is, do I respond to the so-called MEDICAL SERVICES in Leeds?

Silly Faffing Games

Further to yesterday’s posting, A Regressive Impulse, the stress continues to mount. Following the advice of the anonymous caller from Medical Services (linked to the DWP), I summoned up the courage, and reserves of emotional stamina, to make and keep an appointment with my GP. This was to find out if he would be prepared to send them a note to confirm that a 'home visit' medical would be more suitable for me.

As soon as I mentioned the nature of my visit, the doctor informed me that the anonymous caller’s suggestion was a breach of protocol. The protocol, unsurprisingly, is that they (the DWP or their medical agents) contact the GP but, he did suggest that he felt a home visit would be more appropriate!

So, having had my completed form for three months, it seems that the Department of Work and Pensions are practising a cheap emotional blackmail with the now pressurised timescale, or perhaps they are quite simply incompetent! My beloved will attempt to contact the relevant section of DWP to ask them to contact my GP, following the correct protocol, as the calendar buzzes around my head.

I had intended to go to an Exhibition Preview this evening, which would have been only my second real social outing in the past year, but now, I feel rather too exhausted and nauseous to contemplate such an expenditure of energy.

My grateful thanks go out to Tony Blair’s Uncivil Service.

Feeling more charitable, I paraphrase a couple of lines from Philip Larkin (Poet and Librarian of my alma mater):

“They f*ck you up, D W P.
They may not mean to, but they do.”

A Regressive Impulse

Three months after submitting my Incapacity Form to the DWP, suggesting that a home visit would be more appropriate than visiting the ‘locked box’ waiting room in York for a medical, I received a phone call this afternoon from Medical Services. Within a few minutes the smoky tarry contents of my nicotine sticks were being consumed at an excessive rate! Their intention is to arrange an appointment in York’s claustrophobic box for February 9th.

However, if I can get my GP to write a few lines, to say that a home visit would be more suitable, that appointment will be over-ridden. Already, the palpitations are at hand as my pulse races and a general feeling of nausea overwhelms me.

My thoughts race too; what a bloody fool I was, futilely struggling to remain at work until the end of 2003 despite ailing health. Had I yielded sooner then, perhaps, my health would not have plummeted to such uncomfortable depths. I curse, once more, the day that the Protestant Work Ethic was infused into my soul.

After the best ten days or so, I have experienced (within my limitations) health-wise, for the past eighteen months, it is almost as if I feel a pall descending to cover and devour this progress.

Reporting for duty

Having ventured out for an early morning meeting at the Health Centre, I feel just about ready for my second snooze of the day. At least I now have the sense of achievement attached to having kept that appointment! The meeting proved much more satisfactory than I had anticipated.

At lunchtime the casserole, prepared on Saturday, made a welcome return to the oven and the dining table. The extra ‘standing day’ seems to enhance the flavour of an already enticing dish.

Post lunch, I retired to a cosily supporting fireside chair, legs elevated on an appropriate support stool whilst I listened, half attentively, to an excellent afternoon play on Radio 4. The ‘half’ attention was due to my state of exhaustion rather than the drama’s calibre.

In retrospect, I’m quite surprised just how (reasonably) alert I had been during the morning’s meeting. Despite the shockingly early (by my standards) start to the day, I still find it easy to say “I rejoice and am glad in this day the Lord has made”.

Dr Gillian McKeith - dubious nutrition advice by Gillian McKeith - "You Are What You Eat"

When my wife watched the first TV series by this personality, I coined the pet name "the anorexic witch" for this "Dr". This page grants her the appropriate degree of respect that my affection for her demands! Highly entertaining and a tad worrying.

Dr Gillian McKeith - dubious nutrition advice by Gillian McKeith - "You Are What You Eat"