Good Times, Bad Times.

Good Times, Bad Times is now playing in my head.

I took my time and it turned out that I took too long, last month, after my appointment at the Pain Clinic, to report back what happened.

I took my time because I was absurdly upset and, just for a change, stupidly angry.  I think I took too long because I lost all that anger, and maybe I should have shared it on here, straight away.

The upshot of my appointment was that I was signed off from the Pain Clinic, as the doctor and I decided that it was as much use to me as a chocolate condom:  It seemed like a good idea, but did not meet any of my needs, in the end.  We discussed what I should do next and the conclusion the doctor came to was that I just had to weigh up the pro’s and con’s of using medication.

Did I want to no longer be in pain or did I want a satisfying sex life?

Yup.  Them’s the options.

I can’t begin to tell you how angry this made me.  I hope you can understand.

The pain medication I am allowed will cause sexual disfunction.  If I do not want sexual disfunction, I must suffer the pain.  No matter how I word this, it does not get any better.  My sex life is immaterial to the medical professionals and I am a fool for allowing it to be of any concern to me.

Here’s the rub… it is of concern to me.  It is a major part of my life.

Couple in bedSex is of supreme importance to me.  I believe that, like all other organisms on the planet, we are here with simply one function to fulfil.  We must reproduce.  Now, thankfully, we have contraception so we can follow out animalistic needs without spawning new human beings, should we so wish.

Everything we do is with the hope of getting laid.  We might pretend it is not, but we are unable to deny it.  We want to get a job, so we can earn money, so we can get stuff to make ourselves more attractive to prospective sexual partners.

We buy clothes and choose how to dress so we can make ourselves more attractive to potential sexual partners.  Oh, you may say “I am wearing this because I like it and no other reason” but you are fibbing to yourself… it’s so you look good.  You want to look good so as to be more attractive to potential sexual partners.

Everything you do is ultimately to that goal.  Yes it is.  The car you buy, the sport you play or support, the cooking you do, the way you brush your hair… everything.

So, with this in mind, I find it vital to get laid at every given opportunity.  :D  These days, every given opportunity is few and far between.

You kinda have to feel good in order to get down and dirty, don’t you?  It really helps if you’re not screaming with pain the minute you move your legs, for example.

So, you take pain killers to make the pain less.  To make it tolerable.  The joke is that the pain killers stop your sex-bits doing what they should.  There are other medications you could take to counteract the side effects of the pain meds, but you’re not allowed these.  This is because you do not have a penis, but I have rattled on enough about that, before.  My anger was directed at the fact that I had the “choice” spelled out to me:

Did I want to no longer be in pain or did I want a satisfying sex life?

This is an unanswerable question for me.  They might as well ask me if I want food or oxygen.


* * *

This month we are treated to a news story about a woman who was claiming Disabled Living Allowance whilst openly enjoying herself.  She has been sent to prison.  She said she could not walk without the help of crutches and yet she has been seen, on holiday, using a water-slide.  The audacity!!  How very dare she sit on her arse and fall down a slope when she is disabled?!?

She was also seen walking on uneven surfaces and strolling along a beach.  Whilst claiming benefits.  The bitch!!

On holiday, where you are relaxed and the temperatures are different and you do not have your usual cares and worries, you feel good, right?  We all feel good on holiday.  Yes, even me (unless we go to Florida in August, then I feel like shit because it’s so bloody hot and I really can’t take the heat).

I leave the house a couple of times a week.  I go and do my grocery shopping on a Monday and on a Friday night I go to the pub.  I drive to go shopping, I walk to the pub.  The pub is about 100 yards away.

Sometimes, I have to use my walking stick to do that walk.  Sometimes I have to use my walking frame to get there.  And sometimes, I can walk there unaided.

Sometimes, I am feeling good and I have been known to dance.  Sometimes, I have been feeling lucky and I have managed to coerce some poor stranger to come home, where I chuck him on his back and fuck his brains out.

Feeling Lucky?

The thing is, people only see me when I am feeling ok or good, or lucky.

If I am feeling not so good, nobody sees me.  I stay at home.  I am in pain, or asleep, or both.  My point being that people only see me out.  As far as any casual spectator can see, I am a normal, healthy, if somewhat tired, woman.

And I am claiming Disabled Living Allowance.

This is because I am disabled.  I cannot always be spontaneously dancing/pulling randoms/walking about.  But they only see me when I am.

They don’t see me when I am in my kitchen, doing all the things I have to do like washing dishes, ironing and cooking, all with the aid of a saddle seat on wheels, because I cannot stand long enough to iron so much as one garment.  The saddle seat cost me £400.  DLA enabled me to get it.  I have had it a year.  I cannot imagine life without it.

My nearest Tesco supermarket is eleven miles away.  I drive there in my Motability car.  Motability is a charity which enables disabled people to lease a car.  You can get it if you are on the higher level DLA for mobility reasons.  Motability get your benefit money, you get a car.  Without DLA I would not be able to have a car.  There is next to no public transport where I live.  Without my car I would be cut off from the world.

I truly fear, right now, of leaving the house.  If I’m feeling good, I really do not want to use walking aids.  If I can do without, I will.  This does not mean that tomorrow will be the same.

No DancingI fear that some busy body will think they are doing the right thing by reporting me as being able bodied, when I am claiming disabled benefit.

Am I to stay in my house and never venture out?  Am I to never go on holiday for fear of Facebook pictures of me, enjoying myself, being used as evidence that I am a benefit cheat?

Should I never take the chance to dance, ever again?

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4 thoughts on “Good Times, Bad Times.”

  1. So true, so true, I’m lucky in that my pain isn’t so bad to need real pain management “yet” although it will come to that I suspect. I rarely leave the house lately for similar reasons, knackered, my legs let me down and I can barely drive so I stay at home.

    I’ve been persuaded to put a claim for DLA in, I know it will get knocked back but it’s in the system but now have a general paranoia that I have to live up to the claims made in the application. They were made on my worst days so far, at the moment I am lucky and can move and drive and have energy (so rare these days). So now if people see me I look like a fake :( This worries me somewhat as they don’t see me on days when I need to be lifted out of bed, helped to the bathroom, or downstairs by my hubby or kids! Where making a simple drink can take an unearthly amount of time and effort. That’s just not seen by anyone but family. It is worrying.

    I’m aware that I still have a lot of choices but resent the ones I have being made for me and dread the sex life going out of the window, I too could not choose to lose that very important part of my life, and nor should my husband have to lose that, because it affects them equally. That makes me angrier than myself losing out, why should he have too?

    1. We’re TOLD to do the DLA application as a worst case scenario, though, aren’t we? I know I was when I first applied many years ago.
      I remember filling it in and thanking all that is good that I do not have all the symptoms I was describing, all the time. Well, I’m pretty much there now and things sometimes seem to be going down hill fast, then they might just vanish as if nothing was ever wrong. OK, not quite, but it feels good while it lasts!

  2. I have never claimed DLA for this reason. On my worst days, considering the questions asked on the form, I would definitely qualify for something. However on my best days, when I have rested well and since I have been on medication, and provided I do not much else after, I can do things that look normal – perfectly normal. This idea of good days and bad days is a bit awkward though – a good day can be followed by several bad days – but no-one seems to consider things like that. So, in short, I won’t claim because I will be looking over my shoulder all the time, and I don’t want to have to go to prison because I had a good day.

    I have made various choices, which are not ideal but which are working at the moment. To stay a full time wage slave, which is preferable to me until the day comes when I cannot physically get there, I have chosen not to take any medication that sedates me. Given that even 8mg of codeine can make me more dozy than usual, this cuts down choices considerably. Luckily one non sedative anti inflam does give me enough pain relief at the moment for me to get through a day without killing anyone. I am not a good patient and most days I am like a wounded animal. It is why I choose to be on my own a lot. I know I could be in much less pain, but I would not be able to do my job properly, so I refuse them. At the moment.

    My other choice, which I made long ago, before I am as bad as now, was between continuing to be a full time work slave and having any semblance of a social life. I am lucky that for 2 days per week I can work from home. Occy health have ensured this. My job is flexible for my employer to have no problem with this, as many of us work from home some days, anyway. If I had to travel 5 days per week I would have gone part time in 2008. However, that is in my favour, I like the full time salary thank you very much. But on days I go into work, especially days that involve walking between buildings, I have a very bad day, the day after. On any day I go to work, I go to bed immediately as I get home, and I don’t get out again if I can get away with it. At weekends, I spend most of my time in bed. My bed is in my living room, so it’s not really something I even think about. I live in bed, when at home. On the rare occasions I go out, I take time off work, on annual leave, to recover. Sex – forget it – I forgot that sometime in 2009. Sex has too many issues – pain and mobility related – to even contemplate on a regular or even semi regular basis. I would rather not, than having to explain things over and over. I am glad I do not have a partner who is suffering with me, I would feel very guilty. It is my choice, no-one else should have to suffer for it.

    I may relent about not taking sedative pain relief, soon. I am only just coping at the moment. I am almost willing to give them a go. But not yet. I can manage until 2012, I am sure.

    1. Blue: “I can manage until 2012, I am sure.”

      Well, that’s all we have got to do, innit. Roll on the end of the world.


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