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Friday, October 15, 2010

Missing Out...Again


Today I deathwalked a longer distance than I've been able to manage in 12 months. To say I was jubilant when I arrived home is understating the case, ecstacy would be closer to the truth after a year of injury after injury, hideous Oxycontin withdrawal and many other setbacks, just to get back to a distance I could acheive without as much difficulty 18 months ago is incredible. 

I've only been home half an hour and that sense of excitement has been whipped from underneath me by a phone call from wheelchair services. I've written about this dilemma in the past, the rules governing wheelchair provision on the NHS are so surreal Dali would have shaken his head in bewilderment and wandered off to find something not in the 'too hard to think about' box. 
My Occupational Therapist at the Wheelchair Centre is a lovely lady and excellent OT. She's known me since I was in nappies and is very saddened by the situation I'm facing, but her hands are tied by the national rules governing wheelchair provision.

The rules state that no-one will be supplied a power chair on the NHS which is capable of being used outdoors until they have used a powerchair indoors for a minimum of six months. A rule, which might just possibly seem sensible in abstract to politicians with no understanding of disability or it's reluctance to be shoehorned into bureaucratic boxes but not to anyone else, particularly not the people falling outside of those boxes and missing out on vital services and equipment.

Living in a very small one bedroom flat with standard sized doorways I could maybe just about get a power wheelchair into my home, but it would only be possible because I'm physically so petite. Given that Ehlers Danlos Syndrome affects the entire body, the demands of getting into and out of a powerchair everytime I needed to move to another part of the flat would be equal to, if not worse than the demands of staggering around the flat, I'd just be trading one set of dislocations for another, equally painful and degenerative set.  The additional downside of using a wheelchair indoors would of course be a further, rapid deterioration in my overall condition, leading to more dislocations, more pain and more disability. Remaining a part time wheelchair user is optimum for my physical and mental health, the overall cost to the NHS and the benefits bill, but does not fit within the rules of the system.

BendyGirl sitting in her attendant wheelchair
I have an attendant wheelchair, the kind that can only be used if you have someone to push you. It's great, but means I can't go anywhere to use it unless I can find someone who's not busy and is both willing and able to push me around. It's also difficult socially as typically people walk or wheel side by side, and being in an attendant chair prevents that. I suspect it's one reason why small children get so fractious in pushchairs, being unable to see or properly speak to the person pushing you is conducive only to tantrums.

I am not entitled to a standard manual wheelchair as the system recognises that it would be dangerous for me to use one. I could attempt to persuade my GP to risk his professional reputation and a future negligence action by getting him to sign me as fit to use a self propelled wheelchair, but he should no more be put in that position than I should be put in the position of having to lie and say I would use a wheelchair full time indoors. If my GP were willing to claim that I'm capable of using a wheelchair I'm very obviously not, then I could obtain an NHS voucher and purchase a power assisted lightweight wheelchair myself, making up the rest of the cost out of my benefits. That is unlikely to happen, partly because my GP wouldn't deem me fit to use a self propel wheelchair and partly because the kind of lightweight, power assisted wheelchair I would need would be cost prohibitive.

It is possible to use High Rate Mobility Allowance to purchase a powered wheelchair...but not if you're already using that HRM to fund a car. I am currently not using my HRM for either, it goes into general living/travel expenses as I already had a car, but as I need to change my car to a more accessible vehicle, assuming there are no problems with my DLA reapplication the HRM will be committed fully to a vehicle leaving no money for a wheelchair. 

So, once again I'm back at square one. There is absolutely no doubt that an appropriate wheelchair would make it more likely for me to obtain paid work. Access to work is the scheme set up to provide specialist equipment to disabled people to enable them to work. Unfortunately one needs an actual job, or concrete job offer to use access to work, and I have neither. The 8 hours a week I'll be doing from my sofa on a voluntary basis absolutely won't count. 

I have three options. One; the situation remains as it is now, hopefully improved if BendyBus ever gets it's act together enough to leave the care of mechanics. Two; I lie. To my GP, to my consultants, to the wheelchair centre and claim I will use a power wheelchair full time indoors for six months so that they eventually consider me for a powerchair which works both outdoors and indoors. Three; I try to navigate the maze of charities and beg for funding, unlikely to be secured as EDS is not important enough a condition to have rich and powerful charitable representation. 

The years of not being diagnosed and accused of being a liar have left me with a stubborn determination to cling to the truth at all costs. I am just not willing to put myself in a position where I have to lie to the clinicians caring for me, even if that lie weren't completely detrimental to all concerned. I don't have the energy or the mental strength I'd need to go cap in hand to a round of charities, which leaves option one as the only choice.

More than three years on...I'm still missing out.




Also posted as a guest post at;
Shoutaboutit's blog
A Very British Dude

Monday, October 11, 2010

Work Part 6 - I knew it was too good to be true

Part 1 - Employment History
Part 2 - The Application
Part 3 - The Telephone Interview
Part 4 - OMG I've got the job!
Part 5 - There's always a but...

I spoke to S, my Disability Employment Advisor (DEA) today and told her the good news. She's delighted for me. Which is good, because as I'd already begun to fear the rest of the news is far from good.

Permitted Work while receiving Income Support means I can only keep £20 of anything I earn each week. I foolishly assumed that meant I could just be paid £20 a week in expenses but unfortunately it's not that simple. Minimum wage is now £5.93 an hour, but 8 hours of work for £20 is £2.50 per hour, way below that.  With the word manager in the job title it is likely to attract someone's attention during the administrative process of applying for permitted work and be highlighted as concern about a company contravening minimum wage legislation and exploiting a disabled person using the permitted work scheme. That situation may well occur, but in this case my employer is desperate to do everything they possibly can to enable disabled people to work using the permitted work scheme and want to ensure they are fairly paid for everything they do. 

To protect myself and my employer the only option would be for them to pay me minimum wage for the full 8 hours and for me to declare that each time to the Department of Work and Pensions. The DWP would then deduct that sum from my Income Support each week. There are other potential pitfalls to do with nominal wages and impacts on my other benefits such as Local Housing Allowance and Council Tax benefits, but the main concern is national minimum wage.

I'll be honest, I simply do not have it in me to declare the money to the DWP and have it deducted from my benefits each week. I can't deal with the bureaucracy or the constant stress that can cause, especially not so soon after filling out my Disability Living Allowance forms, never mind the chaos that would ensue should it impact upon my other benefits. All that hope and excitement I felt when I was told I had got the job has been destroyed by bureaucracy.

The anomaly surrounding permitted work has been removed from Employment and Support Allowance which doesn't distinguish between contribution and non contribution related incapacity benefits and allows either claimant to do permitted work. ESA also allows for permitted work to continue longer than the mandated 12 month maximum for Incapacity Benefit claimants after which they have to move into full time work, supported by tax credits if necessary or they have to stop their permitted work for a year, after which they can return to the permitted work scheme for another year. Presumably Iain Duncan Smith's Universal Credit scheme also allows for long term permitted work. It's great that this obstacle has been recognised and ironed out of the system but that doesn't help me or any of the other people in reciept of Incapacity Benefit or Income Support who have yet to be migrated to ESA. Whether or not claimants will still be transferred onto ESA in the years before Universal Credit is introduced is not yet clear, as going through two separate, enormous migrations of benefits within 5 years, with all the administrative costs, stress and bureaucracy would seem ludicrous, especially at a time when saving money but protecting services is supposed to be the priority.   For now claimants have to deal with the system as it stands, and that means abiding by the current rules for permitted work.

I want this job enough to say to my employers that I'd like to do it on a voluntary basis, so that is what we've agreed upon. It's still exciting and I'm so happy to have the opportunity to work in a formal role for a project I really believe in, but all that joy at finally getting an actual paying job has been ruined by the inconsistencies of the benefits system.

Work Part 5 - There's always a but...

Part 1 - Employment History
Part 2 - The Application
Part 3 - The Telephone Interview
Part 4 - OMG I've got the job!

I'm not entitled to do permitted work as I don't receive Incapacity Benefit. Well, I sort of am as you can do permitted work whilst receiving Income Support but I'm only allowed to keep £20 a week of anything I earn. I'm disappointed, but it's still an amazing opportunity and that £20 a week will definitely come in handy to cover my rent shortfall. Fortunately the employers don't mind and because of who they are I have no concerns about being exploited. Also, it's a proper job, eight hours a week from home. It's all a bit frustrating but I'm so happy someone interviewed me and wanted to employ me that I don't care.

I don't know how to go about notifying the DWP about working so my new employers and I have agreed I will contact my Disability Employment Advisor to find out the details and we'll take it from there.

Work part 4 - OMG I've got the job!!!!

Part 1 - Employment History
Part 2 - The Application
Part 3 - The Telephone Interview

I'm so excited I'm incoherent. I've got a job. Me. After 7+ years out of work. I'm so happy I could literally faint.

I can't quite believe it, it's amazing. Someone wants to employ me, in a job I can do from home. Actually, I am going to faint now.

I've got a job!!!!

Work part 3 - The telephone interview

Part 1 - Employment History Part 2 - The Application

It went well, or at least I think it did. It's hard to judge how an interview went with such a lack of interview and work experience, but close friends and a fellow blogger have given me loads of emotional support, advice and reassurance. It's fingers crossed and hope for the best time now whilst they make their decision.

Sunday, October 10, 2010

Work - Part 2 - The Application

Recently I saw a job advertised which I was really excited about. The job description could have been written for me, and best of all, the job was part time working from home, 15 hours a week using the Permitted Work Scheme for Incapacity Benefit. Not only that, but it was for a company who's whole ethos I really believe in. 

So, I've applied. It took quite alot of dithering and stress as it's all coinciding with the tail end of DLA form filling but I've decided the worst they can say is 'no thanks' and I've got nothing to lose. Well, nothing except another knock to my confidence. I've written the asked for personal statement and blog post, sent them off and then spent the past few days stressing myself out that I've done it all wrong and not provided the information they asked for at all. 


The good news is I must've done something right as I've got through to the telephone interview stage. Woohoo! Just getting that far is an enormous boost, but I'm still really nervous about the prospect of the actual interview.

Work - Part 1 - Employment History

I've applied for a job. Gulp. It's been a long time since I've worked, so long it all feels like a lifetime ago. I was 13 when I got my first job, a sunday morning paper round with a bag of papers so heavy I gave up on the idea of a bike after being picked off the floor by several kind strangers, something I did not then forsee becoming a theme in my life. As soon as I turned 14 I graduated to after school shop work, waitressing, babysitting and later the glamour of washing dishes in a restaurant at the weekends. I worked all the way through school and university - like most students of my age group I had more than one job alongside studying nannying, bar work, shop work, whatever I could get.

My first recognised dislocation happened when I was working as a camp counselor in the USA, a couple of weeks after I finished my finals. It was a serious one, in retrospect it was far more than just the shoulder dislocation I was treated for as it also affected my spine and ribs. Surgery to repair my shoulder came at the end of the summer and I returned to the UK to recover a few days later.

I claimed benefits then, reluctantly so, but knowing that I would be without income for at least a few months it was the only option. It was 1998 so a nice lady from the DSS came out to the house, filled the form in whilst I was there and was able to ascertain that the injuries I had were genuine. Those benefits ran out 3 months later, by which time I'd been told I probably needed further surgery to my shoulder, but not to worry, I was young and so could just treat it as a year out then get on with my career.

I got a job waitressing in a busy restaurant but within the first few weeks it became very obvious that I couldn't even carry a single plate without causing my shoulder to dislocate. I stuck at it, thinking my strength would improve but before long my shoulder was getting worse and I reluctantly gave up the job. Giving up that work meant returning to the jobs I'd had whilst at university. I'd worked as a hostess/cashier in a local restaurant and hadn't wanted to return there as the owner really enjoyed sexually harrassing me, but it was work, it paid relatively well and the chefs would intervene, hide me in the kitchen and make me food until I'd finished crying on the occasions the owner went too far. One of the regular customers managed a local veterinary practice and after witnessing many incidences of the boss's idea of humour told me that I absolutely did not have to put up with such abuse and arranged an interview at the veterinary practice he managed. I got the job as a receptionist and was able to leave the restaurant. I also worked 16 hours a week in a video shop earning just under the limit to pay national insurance, although I did for the first time earn enough to pay national insurance when I was working at the vets. They were jobs I could fit in around physiotherapy and hospital appointments and were far easier on my joints than the physically demanding restaurant jobs had been.

The year out turned into another and I found I was still waiting for surgery.  By the time I reached the top of the waiting list there was far more damage to my shoulder than there had previously been, but for what at the time were inexplicable reasons the surgery didn't work as expected and I found myself able to do far less than I'd been able to do before. I just couldn't manage to keep up both jobs and physiotherapy so eventually, some months later I had to give up the job in the vets. By then it was more than two years since I'd finished university, once again I was on a waitinglist for surgery and really panicking about my future. It was impossible to find full time work that I was able to do physically and that would be possible to fit around the random nature of NHS appointments so I continued working 16 hours a week, not earning enough to pay National Insurance and waiting to 'get better'.

'Getting better' never happened, in fact things just got worse and in addition to the physical difficulties I was experiencing I was starting to have serious psychological issues as those around me went from sceptical glances to outright criticism, fuelled by the doctors treating me, some of whom had no qualms screaming at me in front of a ward full of other patients that I was wasting their time and had nothing wrong with me a psychologist couldn't fix. No-one ever did refer me to that mythical 'able to cure everything psychologist', but many, many insisted they would.

I applied for jobs, lots of jobs, anything and everything but I already had several years of health issues and part time work to explain away. Once employers heard that I was on a waiting list for further corrective surgery they were understandably uninterested. I gave up on any kind of graduate job after going through the interview process for the NHS graduate management scheme. I reached the final interview stages and was told by the Chief Executive who interviewed me that I'd given the most impressive interview she'd seen, after which I had been recommended for a place. However, they regretted to inform me I had not been successful and she could only urge me to reapply when 'my health was more settled' following the next surgery as she could not see any reason I would not be successful. I never did reapply, my confidence had been destroyed by then.

The next surgery eventually came, then the next, and a few more for good measure with a few experiemental procedures along the way and before I knew it I was over 25 with a patchy at best employment record, still living with my parents and too unwell to even manage 16 hours work a week. The benefits system had moved on, slightly stern but kindly ladies no longer came out to fill in the forms and check circumstances were as claimed, you just had to figure it out for yourself and wait months while the details on the form were checked. As I was over 25 I was no longer protected by the 'young person's rule' which exempts younger people who've been in full time education from the need for National Insurance contributions to claim Incapacity Benefit. I was 26 and had been working in part time roles that didn't earn enough to pay National Insurance so I fell through the gaps in the system onto Income Support, a distinction that would later prove vital.

I carried on applying for jobs, although my physical and mental health were very poor. After years of failed surgeries and outright disbelief I reached a point where I had no idea whether I was so mentally unwell that I was doing all this to myself and just didn't know. Diagnosis of Ehlers Danlos Syndrome was still several years in my future and I was desperate and depressed. I was fighting a GP who made his view that I was a lying attention seeker abundantly clear and blocked an initial application for Disability Living Allowance.

Finally after being sent to a psychiatrist and widely regarded as lazy and workshy my shoulder surgeon promised that was it as far as surgical treatment options were concerned and one of my job applications offered me an interview. It was a part time, low waged, administrative role in the NHS but I was overjoyed, seeing it as a stepping stone to a career. I was offered the job after interview and started in the February of 2003. Access to Work, the scheme which provides equipment and support to disabled people in the workplace had a duty to assess people within 6 weeks of their start date. My assessment was 5+ weeks after I started working, which doesn't sound much but by then the damage had been done. I was working in a very isolated part of the hospital, alone in an office which was in a locked corridor. I felt far more lonely than I had done when I was out of work with the added complications of an unsuitable chair and an old folding table doing the job of a desk. It had metal edges and cut into my arms as I tried to sit high enough to reach it.

When Access to Work eventually assessed me they came up with all manner of adjustments to make, but as is so often the case I was shoehorned into them rather than the adjustments being customised to my needs. A phenomenally expensive height adjustable desk and special supportive chair were ordered, but the chair was that bit too big and my feet never reached the floor. Despite the high price tag they didn't make chairs or desks that went small enough and I certainly wasn't confident enough to object. I loved being employed but was struggling physically and emotionally which was compounded after a serious dislocation in the office when I was alone meant I remained on the floor for an unknown length of time before being carried out of the hospital I worked in by paramedics taking me to another hospital. 

I was 'medically suspended' after that until the correct office furniture and equipment arrived which took some months. In fact it took so long for all the equipment recommended by Access to Work to arrive that some of it still had not turned up after I'd become too sick to work and had lost my job by September 2003.

Although I'd had more time off sick than I had worked my employers wanted to keep me as they had no concerns with my work or committment to the job. A 12 month unpaid career break was negotiated so that I could return to work at the same grade although probably not the same role once my health had stabilised.

I was diagnosed with Ehlers Danlos Syndrome in February of 2004 by which time I was desperately unwell, in debt, disabled and on the verge of mental breakdown after so many years of disbelief and accusations of malingering. My award letter informing me I'd been awarded Disability Living Allowance arrived the morning I was to travel to London and be diagnosed, the award dated from prior to the loan I'd taken out to survive whilst I had no wages or benefits and would have negated the need for the loan had I known.

The disbelief and disrespect I'd been shown by so many doctors continued to cause problems for me despite being diagnosed by an internationally recognised expert in Ehlers Danlos Syndrome. A rehabilitive programme was suggested but never materialised once I returned to my own area. My shoulder surgeon looked extremely uncomfortable but to his credit apologised to my face for having missed the underlying cause of my problems. Other doctors had left themselves no room for retreat from their accusations towards me and continued to disbelieve me, to the extent that I was accused of having falsified the letter sent to my GP by Professor Grahame after he diagnosed me. It was an impossible situation for all concerned. After I was able to change to a new GP practice this problem was gradually left behind but all the accusations of attention seeking still remain on my medical records.

When my twelve month career break was over I'd still not managed to find a way of accessing any of the rehabilitation methods recommended and had to regretfully inform my employers that not only was I not fit to return to work but that there was no expectation that would change in the immediate future as I was unlikely to be able to access any treatment or support.

That was the last time I worked.

Thursday, October 07, 2010

Bendy in print...

BendyCat sitting on an open copy of All Together Now!
My first ever column 'I want more!' has been printed in All Together Now! magazine. I'm a bit excited, as is BendyCat who celebrated the occasion in time honoured kitteh tradition by sitting on the column. 

Fortunately my twitter friends are a very knowledgeable bunch when it comes to accessibility issues and fellow disability rights blogger @samedifference1 has explained the magazine can be viewed as a pdf document for those outside the north west. Thanks Sarah!

You can read my column via All Together Now!'s online archive. It's page 19 of the current issue (Oct-Nov 2010) and is to the far right hand side of the page.

Wednesday, October 06, 2010

Bog Off - Exhibit 30 Starbucks Special!

This is an extra special Starbucks themed BogOff sent in by  BogOff fan Arienette. The photos feature the Woolwich branch of Starbucks in SE London, but BSS is also pleased to report a Starbucks BogOff twitter special.

Recently a fellow tweeter @trufflepotamus visited her local Starbucks, in Norwich, @trufflepotamus has some mobility issues but is not overtly visibly disabled. Whilst she was there she asked to use the disabled toilet as walking upstairs is difficult, tiring and painful. She was refused access to the disabled toilet by a staff member who informed her that the disabled toilet was only to be used by customers in wheelchairs.

Starbucks are one of the biggest companies to have adopted the use of social media. So, as soon as I heard about @trufflepotamus's experience I tweeted @Starbucks to inform them. To their credit a response was swift, with an immediate apology and assurances to investigate. Before long the managing director of Starbucks UK, Darcy Wilson-Rymer had tweeted his apology and asked for contact details so Starbucks could investigate. That was followed up by an email from Starbucks customer services team also apologising and promising to put right the problem. Starbucks contacted @trufflepotamus directly to ascertain the details and have reassured her that the official Starbucks policy is "just say yes" to any customer who requests to use the disabled toilet. They have also assured @trufflepotamus that they will provide retraining to the staff at the Norwich branch so they are all clear about this policy and have sent her a Starbucks card so she can return and enjoy the facilities on them.

Starbucks have led the way here and set an example to other companies about how social media can allow them to engage with their customers and help the company address issues promptly. It is fantastic to see that Starbucks immediately apologised and promised to do better, a stark contrast to experiences disabled people such as myself have had when dealing with other large companies such as Wetherspoons

Whilst I'd like to congratulate Starbucks and give them full marks for their behaviour over this incident I'd also like to take the opportunity to let them know there are issues with disability access and awareness in their other branches, such as this BogOff taken by BogOff fan Arienette  at the Woolwich branch of Starbucks in South East London. Will Starbucks UK lead the way and receive the first company wide Bog of Beauty award for their disabled toilets? I do hope so...



View of disabled toilet with grab rails to right and left. Emergency alarm cord is tied up away from the floor around one grab rail. The bins are obstructing the transfer area.


"There were some very good and very bad points about this toilet which is in the Woolwich branch of Starbucks in south east London.

The toilet is down a fairly narrow hallway. If you had anything other than a standard sized wheelchair and standard sized arms, you'd be in a tight spot. The door is also difficult to manouver with a pushchair and weakling arms, so I'm assuming it would be very difficult with a wheelchair.

The room is well lit but not blinding. It was clean, there was no debris on the floor and it didn't smell of anything, although it didn't smell pleasant, either. Actually thats just how I like my bogs, the overwhelming smell of fresheners or bleach can make me faint.

There's a baby-change (isn't there always? Well, no, actually, the disabled toilet in the Starbucks on Southamptom Row had nothing and I had to change the baby on the toilet lid. It was awesome. Not.) but it doesn't stick out too far when folded up, which is good, because the room itself is obviously built to minimum size standards. Again, if you had anything other than a standard size wheelchair you'd be in trouble.
Close up view of alarm cord tied firmly to grab rail and impossible to reach from the floor

Emergency Cord tied up out of the way, as always (I untied it, although have little hope that it will remain that way),  and the bins were in the way of the transfer area.
View of mirror at standard height above sink with adjacent grab rail

However, there were two mirrors. One at 'normal' height above the sink, and one lower down, perfectly positioned for wheelchair height.  However, again, in a larger wheelchair you may have to bend out to apply your lipgloss, because the mirror is tucked away in the corner.
View of wheelchair height mirror next to hand dryer at angle showing it would be difficult to see into from a wheelchair

All in all, a mixed bag. Better than most, but still falling short of the ideal. And really, why should a realistically usable disabled toilet be 'the ideal'?"



Thanks to Starbucks UK, @trufflepotamus and Arienette for this extra special BogOff - the disabled and parent/child users of your accessible facilities look forward to a positive response once more!  





Tuesday, October 05, 2010

'Benefit Thief' By Blood In The Sand

 Originally posted here by Blood In The Sand

It was Wednesday, free money day, a reason to get out of bed. So I did. I then wandered down to the post office and stood in line with old dears posting mittens to grandsons, businessmen posting invoices and mums paying the gas and electric.

There were tuts and frowns of course, I mean I was 23 years old. Should have been out grafting, earning some wedge. A smartly dressed middle aged woman even said as much. 'Young man, hang your head in shame. I've never claimed benefits once.'

I looked at her and thought of my mum. I then grabbed my free money and bought 20 cigarettes with it. This didn't go down well with Mrs Average. 'Well how pleased am I my taxes pay for your cigarettes. I suppose you'll be off to the pub to waste the rest?' Her voice was raised and it brought disapproving looks and more tut-tutting from others.

I closed my eyes. Screaming, terror. My friend holding a severed head in his hand, 'Do I bury this mate or just bin it?' I looked at the attractive lady and smiled at her. 'Fuck off, you civvy cunt before I gouge your painted fucking eyes out.'

The man behind the counter took offense and joined the fray. 'Steady on son, there's no need for that.' I spun round to look at him and he saw for a brief moment the hate and pain inside my head. He went back to shuffling the papers and I went to the pub.

I should have been out looking for a job, instead of pouring whisky and beer down my throat. I felt bad about my unkind words, then I remembered faces shattered by metal and ordered more whisky.

That night I sat on a stool, pissed out of my head with a rope around my neck trying to find the balls to save the taxpayers some cash. But I wasn't brave enough. So I cried about the war for a bit, felt sorry for myself and I hung my head in shame...