Extract from The Guardian
Recently diagnosed with PTSD, I push forward with those who fight
beside me, otherwise I would be lost and completely without hope
The
stigma attached to the unemployed runs deep in society. If you’re out
of work then you are made to feel worthless, a drain on society. Terms
like “dole bludger” are often smeared across the headlines, millions of
people essentially tarred with the same brush.
As a result my health issues are disregarded because of a biased attitude that insinuates a kind of “guilt” requiring that you lodge your “proof” or medical “evidence” in order to validate your barriers to work and access financial support.
The lack of money in my life has brought about many hurdles. Regardless of how many times I explain my financial circumstances, I spend months chasing doctors for referrals, hitting a dead end each time I get to the point in the conversation where we discuss payment, running into the dreaded question: “Is this work-cover related?” Since most specialists won’t even take patients without health insurance, it leads me back to square one.
I spend most of my time bouncing between medical appointments and employment consultants, the latter feeling like a waste of my time and theirs. As much as I would love to return to work I often can’t walk or function on the best of days without assistance. So whether or not I tick the box to hide my health information from potential employers or apply for jobs in order to maintain compliance, it doesn’t change the fact that I am ultimately a liability and in need of professional medical help.
Managing pain can be a full-time job and I have yet to find the balance. When I went to Melbourne for the Australian Unemployed Workers’ Union memorial for Josh Park-Fing – an 18-year-old who died during work for the dole (a topic close to my heart for obvious reasons) – afterwards I almost completely lost the ability to walk. The eight-hour return trip came at a price: I had a week of agony, trapped in pain and discomfort, when even the motion of brushing my teeth was enough to put my body in a state of shock, something I never thought I would experience.
"My friends and family remind me of the person I am underneath"
I have recently received a badge for parking, even though my partner does a majority of the walking, shopping and lifting. Attending appointments tends to aggravate the situation. Even a trip to the hospital can ultimately lead to more pain and less activity, since there is often no parking near the entrance, which leads to an uphill climb from a block away with one arm over the shoulder of my partner and another clutching my walking cane. The last few visits required a wheelchair.
The limitations of my health condition become all too clear when I have to travel. Driving can be extremely painful, but I preference it over public transport. Comfort is a necessity – weighing down my vehicle for a smoother ride, a hot water bottle at my back while bracing for potholes and speed humps, but also because of my mobility issues. Walking is quite painful and seems to exacerbate things quickly. As a consequence I end up needing help just to get from the bed to the bathroom.
I often feel like a burden. Growing up mostly independent, I’m now almost completely dependent on my partner who deserves better than being forced to watch me grimace in pain day after day. Many days it takes all my strength to bury things enough to force a smile, and as honest and open as I am as a person, this is not the story I want to tell, like a broken record stuck on repeat, trapped in a body that currently can’t support my drive or ambitions, like a merry-go-round that never stops.
As a result my health issues are disregarded because of a biased attitude that insinuates a kind of “guilt” requiring that you lodge your “proof” or medical “evidence” in order to validate your barriers to work and access financial support.
The lack of money in my life has brought about many hurdles. Regardless of how many times I explain my financial circumstances, I spend months chasing doctors for referrals, hitting a dead end each time I get to the point in the conversation where we discuss payment, running into the dreaded question: “Is this work-cover related?” Since most specialists won’t even take patients without health insurance, it leads me back to square one.
I spend most of my time bouncing between medical appointments and employment consultants, the latter feeling like a waste of my time and theirs. As much as I would love to return to work I often can’t walk or function on the best of days without assistance. So whether or not I tick the box to hide my health information from potential employers or apply for jobs in order to maintain compliance, it doesn’t change the fact that I am ultimately a liability and in need of professional medical help.
Managing pain can be a full-time job and I have yet to find the balance. When I went to Melbourne for the Australian Unemployed Workers’ Union memorial for Josh Park-Fing – an 18-year-old who died during work for the dole (a topic close to my heart for obvious reasons) – afterwards I almost completely lost the ability to walk. The eight-hour return trip came at a price: I had a week of agony, trapped in pain and discomfort, when even the motion of brushing my teeth was enough to put my body in a state of shock, something I never thought I would experience.
"My friends and family remind me of the person I am underneath"
I have recently received a badge for parking, even though my partner does a majority of the walking, shopping and lifting. Attending appointments tends to aggravate the situation. Even a trip to the hospital can ultimately lead to more pain and less activity, since there is often no parking near the entrance, which leads to an uphill climb from a block away with one arm over the shoulder of my partner and another clutching my walking cane. The last few visits required a wheelchair.
The limitations of my health condition become all too clear when I have to travel. Driving can be extremely painful, but I preference it over public transport. Comfort is a necessity – weighing down my vehicle for a smoother ride, a hot water bottle at my back while bracing for potholes and speed humps, but also because of my mobility issues. Walking is quite painful and seems to exacerbate things quickly. As a consequence I end up needing help just to get from the bed to the bathroom.
I often feel like a burden. Growing up mostly independent, I’m now almost completely dependent on my partner who deserves better than being forced to watch me grimace in pain day after day. Many days it takes all my strength to bury things enough to force a smile, and as honest and open as I am as a person, this is not the story I want to tell, like a broken record stuck on repeat, trapped in a body that currently can’t support my drive or ambitions, like a merry-go-round that never stops.
I am grateful for many things, though. In this time I have learned to better manage my finances by taking shortcuts and discounts wherever possible, and I have ongoing support from friends and family. Dealing with this requires a level of patience and understanding, I am somewhat humiliated and embarrassed by it, but they help to keep me on track and remind of the person I am underneath.
It is easy to lose friends when you have near no social life. My recent experiences have made me careful about trusting the intentions of others; social media can be a cruel territory to traverse and I deal with a lot of triggers when it comes to anxiety and depression, which causes me to be somewhat distant and overwhelmed. I was recently diagnosed with PTSD, but I push forward with those who fight beside me, offering invaluable support, otherwise I would likely be lost and completely without hope.
The way I see it we all have the same basic needs and deserve a chance at health and happiness, regardless of class, social status, sexual orientation, location of birth, language or variation of pigmentation, as do all the creatures of Earth and the cosmos. Mutual respect seems an ideology more along the lines of science fiction than a reality, but I still retain hope that it is not too late for viewpoints to change, especially when it comes to the narrative surrounding the sick, injured, homeless and unemployed workers of the world, who above all at least deserve a little compassion.
It would be fair to say I am a little lost at this point in my life and really have no idea what to do. For the last two years I lost my mobility and my dignity. All my business and career plans faded into the background while I jump through hurdles, pain, worry, stress and anxiety impacting everything I do, likely affecting my recovery.
I’m trying like hell to focus and make progress on my health, even though I don’t have a clear prognosis or treatment options bar time and medication. But amazingly what I have gained in my partner (who has stuck with me through thick and thin) far outweighs that which I have lost, and knowing this makes me feel lucky. So I keep smiling. I keep breathing. I keep fighting for my future.
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