Me

I mention in my bio that I suffer from my own mental health problems. Today I had an Atos assessment for PIP.

I got a PIP letter through in July. My DLA award was due to run out in December so I was sort of expecting it but perhaps not quite as soon as it came. I filled in the subsequent form that arrived and got a letter on Saturday informing me that my assessment was to be in London. Living on the south coast, as I do, I thought this was ridiculous. There are centres where I live so why send me to London? It’s basically inaccessible for me. I rang them, terrified, on Monday. The woman on the phone said they were within their rights to send me anywhere within 60 miles! After her “looking” for me, she “found” an appointment in my home town today, just two days later.

So I went today. I took my mum. Chris is shit at this type of stuff and Mum remains calm, which I needed. The woman seemed ok. Asked me loads of questions and appeared to be trying to categorise me, even coaching me with replies a bit. I was there for about 35 minutes I guess. I didn’t cry. She didn’t ask me why I hadn’t yet killed myself. My mum spoke for me a few times. The most bizarre thing was asking me to remember three words. I have memory problems but asking me to repeat them and then recall them a minute later has nothing much to do with memory.

Obviously she could have been nice and smiley to me and will write a horrendous report later. I don’t know. I mean, how do you know? How can you tell? I’ve been fairly lucky up until this point. I haven’t had to appeal and I haven’t been to a tribunal but I know many people who have. I have a friend with a terminal brain tumour that was declared fit for work and he had just lost his driving licence as he was having 10-15 fits every day. I have another friend who pretty much can’t walk due to strokes and seizures. He was declared fit to work only in May. Both appealed and both won.

What will be my fate? I guess I will find out in 6-8 weeks when the brown envelope of doom arrives. It’s enough to send a girl mad, if I wasn’t already.

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Me

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