 |
As reported in
‘Memoirs of a Nutter,’i
the end of the 2010s were marked by two major battles: one against the
Department for Work and Pensions (DWP), which I won, and one against the woeful
mental health system, which I didn’t.
I had developed
a largely workable pattern of activities to accommodate my health problems and stay
positive. This pattern was severely disrupted
by a DWP re-assessment for Employment Support Allowance (ESA).
The incredibly
drawn-out process dominated the next 18 months.
It began with the completion of an assessment form in March 2018. Having been given one month to submit the
form, I then waited four months to hear back.
I was required to attend a face-to-face‘ fit for work’ (ATOS) assessment
in August.
Because of my background
and personality, I will always prepare for interview-type situations where possible. However, research to ascertain the type of questions I
would be asked so I could have all the facts of my case ready, was of very
little help putting me at a distinct disadvantage against the might of the system. I did what I could to prepare mentally and
physically, but with no clear idea of what to expect, I suffered heightened
anxiety and woke with the tell-tale signs presaging yet another bout of debilitating
illness on the day.
The appointment
was to take place in Huddersfield, which brought back bad memories of the
dreadful events at work that precipitated my current ill-health. I would not have been able to attend at all
if my partner had not accompanied me. At
least my request to have the assessment in the afternoon was accommodated. We allowed plenty of time for the train
journey, requiring a change at Brighouse, and for lunch (from the unexpectedly good food
court in the market) before braving the ring-road to find the building. A defunct Job Centre Plus office that I
recognised from attending meetings on a professional basis all those years ago,
looked derelict. My partner could not
believe it was the right place. But as
we approached, a small sign stuck on the door confirmed it was.
The
Assessment Centre occupied the ground floor of the otherwise abandoned Crown
House. A
surly receptionist did not even smile or speak to us as she pointed to her
left. We entered a poky room, with a partitioned
booth in one corner. Slightly friendlier
staff took my details and helped with travel expenses. While
waiting to be called, shutters clattered against the only window of the unwelcoming
waiting room, answering to the wind which howled mercilessly on the other side
of the concrete wall. The sole WC looked
like it was made for a prison – constructed of metal with an alarming locking
system. We chatted to another couple and
I tried to make light of the situation, finding amusement in the decrepit
conditions. They remained glum.
The so-called
‘healthcare Professional’ (HCP) went through the standard questions and tests,
and barely took her eyes off her computer screen to look at me, apart from when
it came to conducting stupid physical tests such as how far I could bend down. When she had come to the end of the questions,
she made as if to conclude the interview.
I interrupted, reminding her she was meant to ask if I had anything to
add. I stressed that just because I
could touch my toes, it did not mean I could stack shelves in Poundland. Due to my fatigue, I would not be able to
sustain work (as evidenced by my stint at voluntary work a few years back).
I was exhausted
afterwards and wanted to be home as soon as possible. Unfortunately, the train timetable meant an agonisingly
long journey. I was fit to collapse by
the time I got back and went straight to bed.
A further agonising
wait ensued until I knew what the HCP’s judgement would be. At the end of September, the day before we went
on holiday, a letter from DWP declared
me ‘fit for work’ and said my ESA would stop immediately. This was a complete bombshell. At worst, I thought they might say I could do
some work and move me from the ’support group’ to the ‘work activity group’. To have my income abruptly stopped, as of the
day before, was inhuman!
Needless to
say, my stress and anxiety levels went through the roof. It beggared belief that this is how they
dealt with people on sickness benefit due to mental health issues. How do they think a shock like that is going
to help? It required enormous effort to read
through the several pages of the missive.
Not until the last page were details provided about what to do if you
disagreed with the decision. Wading through
the rest of it, I surmised that there was in fact a political reason for the decision:
i.e., getting people of old-style ESA and putting them on Universal Credit. Knowing about the problems with UC, I knew
this would be bad for me and cause further stress. I contacted Citizens Advice Calderdale (CAB)
for advice who told me what to do and not to worry while I was away. Easier said than done!
CAB informed me
that although I had to jump through all the hoops, nothing would be resolved until
the case went to appeal. I followed
their guidance and wrote to DWP requesting a ‘Mandatory Reconsideration’, then realised I had no idea what address to
write to. With having to make further
calls and then go to the post office to send the letter by registered post, I felt
exhausted.
After the brief
respite of a few days away, the battle ramped up. As predicted, the ‘Mandatory Reconsideration’
was turned down. Thus I progressed to
the appeals stage. More forms to fill
in; bigger piles of paperwork to wade through; acquiring further evidence from
my GP (which I had to pay for); several phone calls to CAB to try and make
sense of the mumbo-jumbo; claiming benefit at the ‘appeals rate’ (which lasted
365 days precisely in line with the law, leaving me with no income at all while
I was still awaiting the hearing).
It was only at
this stage that I got the report from the HCP based on the assessment. It was a complete pack of lies! The report contained numerous false
statements, inaccuracies and omissions. By then I also had the criteria that the
judgements about me had been made. I failed to see how she could award me 0
points for every single category!
I felt like
giving up on numerous occasions. If the
HCP can just lie , and have those falsehoods supported by the Department, what
chance did I have? But I knew this was
what they wanted, so I suffered the deterioration in my mental health (remarked
upon by my GP), the constant headaches, the loss of time I had to devote to my
positive activities, the reduced income necessitating tight budgeting and very
little cash for anything other than essentials.
I was determined to not let them beat me down.
The tribunal
hearing was eventually set for the start of December. With a month to prepare, I contacted CAB
again. They told me it was short notice. I was
rather taken aback since they had told me to contact them when I had the appeal
hearing date. Up until this point, Help
from CAB was rather patchy, but proved invaluable during that month. I had two appointments with a specialist
adviser who was an absolute star. She
submitted a supporting statement and talked me through what to expect at the
hearing. I had ascertained by my own
self-assessment that I did not score 15 points in any one category. However, the overriding issue was that if I
was forced into work, I would not be able to sustain it and my health would further
deteriorate. The Adviser concurred but
said “don’t worry about that.” I trusted in her experience.
Again, my
request to hold the hearing in the afternoon was honoured, as too was my choice
of venue ( Leeds rather than Bradford as the office was closer to the train
station). My ever-supportive partner
accompanied me. Obviously finding the
day stressful, I at least got a chance to say my piece and they also allowed my
partner to add relevant comments.
The tribunal
judge and medical specialist upheld my appeal.
They obviously agreed that the evidence we supplied proved that I could
not work - although I did not fully understand the legalise they used under ‘exceptional
circumstances’.
So, the previous
18 months had been a complete waste of time and resources. I had been put under additional stress and
duress for nothing! what a stupid system!
After winning
at the tribunal hearing, I felt like I deserved to celebrate with a drink. But of course I was exhausted by the whole
ordeal, and went straight home and spent
the rest of the week ill with sinusitis.
The depression did
not lift either. The general election
resulted in a victory for the Tories, condemning us to another 5 years of an uncaring
government. Thus no end in sight for this ridiculous charade
of making sick people prove they are sick, regardless of what the medical
profession say. And no end to the roll-out
of UC in spite of a plethora of evidence that it is causing more suffering.
Something has
to change!
Instead of the ridiculously
long-winded process and highly suspect face-to-face assessments, DWP could accept
medical evidence form the patient’s own GP.
After all, they are the ones who know the patient best. They can provide details of how health
conditions affect them, in as much detail as the bureaucrats desire. This would be much less stressful, more cost-effective, immeasurably more efficient and not take over people’s
lives.
