Post 255: The ESA Call Lead to the Advice Overwhelming Me.
(The photo today might help the reading of the blog)
My fingers are still dancing and it’s a very calm day — it’s like a game I’ll never win.
———
By the end of the day, 4pm today, (what a lightweight) I had little to show for it. I did check out a few things for office-bloke-me, but I didn’t end up with much apart from a growling head and a general desire to understand why pills work some days and not others.
In fact, why have I got a headache at all? I never get headaches.
After the ESA phone chat with GOV. NET — which was more about checking who I was, but while I was chatting I discovered that PIP is a totally different beast with a 24-page document, I’d call that pretty bad-arse but it’s apparently something I could apply for.
So now I have two new acronyms to remember:
ESA (Employment and Support Allowance).
PIP (Personal Independence Payment).
While I fought the bloody right index finger in my daily battle to input words that actually link up and create a blog, I was dealing with two problems.
Problem one is the usual: the stabbing, random motion that selects random letters on the keypad and quite often the “helpful” icons from the icon bar above the Ai word-suggestion bar (the bar above the letters Q to P, or 1 to 0).
That helpful icon bar runs from “Aa” along to a very ghostly “X”.
To the left of the ghostly X there’s an icon I never use — a circle with what looks like a felt-pen nib inside it; I really wish that could be locked of, because I get into a right tangle with that one. Don’t touch it. To its left there’s a paperclip.
Alongside the many nightmare finger-control issues, I’m also having hallucinations.
And here I’d better say that I’m on background morphine: 30mg twice a day, with four to six extra doses of Oramorph as required.
Stuff to the right of me, stuff to the left, above me, or seemingly coming out of the phone screen — it’s really driving me mad.
The hallucinations are so real. They seem to lead me along with the story I’m writing, but I’m in and out of Oramorph dozing and dreaming. My fingers jump just when I don’t want them to, exactly when I’m thinking about the next paragraph.
My trigger finger is so intense that it’s hard to stay with the plot in my head rather than the plot it seems to decide I want. It’s funny in a way and I remember mum having morphine hallucinations when she was struggling with pain in the care home.
“More morphine nurse” says one nurse.
The other nurse says “ok”.
This is hopeless.
What am I going to do tomorrow when I need to answer questions on paperwork that could entitle me — or not — to financial help that will help my Darling and me survive this cancer-fuelled financial nightmare situation?
Even though I’m not getting very far in reasoning out the questions and answers I’ll probably need tomorrow, I’m hoping my human nature will overcome the more freaky obstacles in my way.
That’s my sincere hope.
Today I’m struggling to keep my fingers from causing a right mess, and the frustration is leading me to the same conclusion as yesterday: the phone might be better off in the toilet u-bend than in my left hand.
Question: Do I really need this phone?
Answer: Yes — I must apply myself and hopefully get the PIP and ESA. It’s probably easier to complete on the phone, but after that maybe I can take another look.
I think that’s quite enough dribble for now, so I’ll be on my way.
Thanks to my sister in law, tonight I’ve had less back ache with the use of the heat pad she gave me which works a treat.
I am so glad the little gadget is so easy to use and so soothing.
This is something a world away from the little pads that stick on your skin.
Thanks so much. What a fabulous pressy.
Good night. 
