Yesterday I had a phone call to check out my health problems from DWP/Maxima. During the conversation I was asked, “When did you last work?”
I find this offensive for a whole lot of reasons but I answered that until my sister died last year in April I had been providing full time care, including end of life care, for my mother, Julia of course, and my seriously disabled best friend. Julia was the last to go, but although the government don’t consider carers to be working, it bloody well is. Predictably I was told that I could not do this if I’m in as much pain as I say that I am. The fact that Julia died eighteen months back has no relevance to my lack of mobility these days, and did not then. I lived with pain then, I live with pain now. She was my sister, of course I was going to care for her, no matter the struggle.
Anyhow. This conversation left me very lonely and I really missed all of them, spent yesterday weeping and feeling sorry for myself.
This morning I gave the dogs a quick toilet run early on, and Bruno stopped and looked back. He pulled slightly, wanting to go back to the woman and her dog a little way behind us. Normally this would have him trying to drag me over but today, although he was curious he was well behaved.
Perhaps the training is paying off, or perhaps he was being calm because of the situation. As I squinted into the sun I was certain that it was Tracey and her dog Marcus who we lost at the same time six years ago – almost to the day. I’m sure that they were just calling past to say hello. After a time she turned and both she and Marcus walked back towards her house which was not far behind her and the pair of them disappeared in the low sunlight.
The sun must be still in my eyes, as I can’t stop them watering.