I'm not a well man. I have mental and physical issues to contend with. Like so many, I'm now experiencing the hell the British government is imposing on the sick, the poor, the vulnerable, the disabled. All in the name of cost cutting while the incompetent fortunate smirk at the plight of the impoverished. Many now live in fear, fear of keeping their houses warm, fear that they might not have enough to eat. Scared to the point of hysterical panic that they might lose their homes. Many are now living in fear of what tomorrow brings. I am one of them.
In between my visits as a hospital outpatient over my medical problems, I'm now being summoned for the dreaded medical assessment that has wreaked havoc with so many desperate, frightened souls. Several people have been deemed fit to work, when in reality, they are not. If I am deemed fit to work, it will destroy me. Workplace bullying in various jobs, both paid and voluntary, have left me in a state of deep despair.
And the ripple effects of all of this? My son, my beloved son, who through this economic mess, cannot find meaningful employment. He continues on with his drawn out process of enlisting with the British Navy. In the meantime, my young man cannot sleep properly, he is sad and it's breaking my heart. My mother, my family in British Columbia, are worried sick over what's happening to me and my boy. I do my best, with their support, to see a positive aspect to all of this.
It's so exhausting. I'm barely able to write a posting. I'm barely able to interact within this supportive, caring blogging community. My transparency, my verbalisation are important. In my world, the truth is I struggle to sleep and I'm often still awake around ten in the morning. Finally, I drift off and wake up in a panic about four in the afternoon. I was starting to get better and then this government and its inhumane policies brought it all back with a vengeance.
Maybe my medical assessment will be okay. I have to cling onto that thought. I cannot go back there. Back to that dark, foreboding place where I was so ill, the only comfort was the sound of a whirring fan by my bedside. A fan that played the music of a man losing his sanity. What has this world come to when they dredge up the past, the past I tried to move on from.
No matter what, I have to, I must not let the evil bombard my right to a peaceful, positive life. With your help and caring, with my family's support, with the focus that I need to maintain a healthy environment for my son and for Penny, our beautiful dog, I will keep going.
I'm a teardrop of the shining orb
Which has a message I must absorb
A glowing tear
Beyond the fear.