“I was awarded DLA for life” I told her, “yes” she replied “that meant for the life of the benefit, DLA has been replaced by PIP”
Time Jump – Sometime in late September 1979, Simpson Ward, The Brook General Hospital, Woolwich. ‘Green Card’ discussion …
… I was visited in my hospital bed (I’d been bed bound for more than a month) by a very nice lady, not hospital staff, I can’t remember how she introduced herself but she was some kind of social worker/social security officer. She’d come to talk to me about a ‘Green Card’. She went on to explain that a green card is given to people with a life long disability, and she visits the hospital, talks to the ward sisters and is told which patients have injuries that would render them permanently disabled and thus qualify them for said ‘Green Card’. I was just 19, stubborn and naive to say the least. Yes I knew I’d really messed up my leg … but disabled? Get out of here … which is pretty much what I told her to do, but politely. “No thank you” I said. And looking back, my first foolish act of denial, something I’ve struggled with / suffered from ever since!
Time Jump – Sometime in late summer 2001, St.Leonards, East Sussex. ‘DLA Medical Examination/Assessment’ by an ‘old school’ ex-army doctor …
… I hobbled into the examination room aided by my usual elbow crutch and custom made ‘appliance’, my orthopaedic splint. A middle aged man, late 50’s or so, maybe older, was sitting behind a desk head down writing with a pen. In front of the desk was a pair of chairs, those moulded plastic waiting room style chairs. Behind those chairs at the back of the small room was an examination couch/bed, like the ones of that era seen in every GP’s consulting room.
Without looking up, the man gestured for me to sit, holding out his arm, hand open, palm up towards the 2 plastic chairs. I manoeuvred over carefully, crutch clicking as they do (or did in those days) and gently, carefully lowered myself onto the chair as I had been taught by physiotherapists so as to minimise strain (thus pain) to my lower back. The chair was too low so the pain was uncomfortable. Once seated no doubt accompanied by my unintentional but audible puffs, pants and winces at the discomfort, I started to explain my situation/condition. Abruptly, again without looking up from his writing, he held up his free hand, palm up at 90 degrees in the universal ‘STOP’ gesture, still without looking up, he said “I will tell you when to speak”. I was taken aback by his abruptness, no, rudeness, but I was also aware that if I were to answer back there may be financial consequences, and I was here out of desperation, to claim what I had been told 22 years earlier was my entitlement, but I’d never claimed out of pride.
So, I sat quietly, obediently, while he finished his writing. Eventually he put down his pen and asked me a load of questions about my mobility etc, to which I was to answer either ‘Yes’ or ‘No’. He then asked me to undress and climb onto the examination bed. “Do you need me to remove my splint?” I asked “Yes of course” he replied, to which I replied “then I’ll need my wife’s assistance”. My wife and two year old daughter were waiting out in the waiting room. He got up and went to fetch them. My wife helped with the splint straps which are too low and too much of a bend for my back to bear. He instructed me to strip to my underpants and lay on the examination couch/bed, which was quite a climb and struggle, so my wife helped me. He looked at the scars on my leg, the bone graft harvesting scar on my hip, and the scar on my back where I’d had the most recent spinal fusion surgery. He also asked about the 14 inch scar running from scrotum to above the left hip, but that’s another whole story on its own!
Very quickly his abrupt and harsh attitude changed. “That’ll do” he said, “take your time and get dressed” … “I apologise for my attitude earlier” he went on as he returned to his seat and started writing again. He put his pen down and looked at me in the eye this time, “you wouldn’t believe what I see and the tales I hear from people coming through that door” he said to me, he continued “I’m an ex-army battlefield doctor, I know genuine injury, pain and suffering, but I have to initially at least treat everyone who comes through that door as fake”. “I understand” I replied as I struggled aided by my wife to refit the splint as quickly as possible … “But you” he continued “you are genuine, and I apologise again for putting you through this examination ordeal … but” he gestured in a half shrug. He looked at my wife with my daughter in her arms now and said “you don’t have to worry, whatever meagre financial assistance our government has deemed fit to grant you, will be granted, and for life, because of what I am about to write on this form”. “Thank you”, we both replied. “Why have you not applied for DLA before?” he asked. “Stubbornness and youthful pride” I replied. He nodded, and we were done, out of there with DLA secured for ‘life’ … or was it?
Time Jump – October 2019, Eastbourne, East Sussex. PIP assessment by ‘medical practitioner’ and her IT questionnaire …
… A cheaply partitioned office, no examination bed/couch, not much privacy, just a keyboard and monitor from which she read questions about my mobility and moved her mouse to click into boxes, never really taking her eyes off the screen to look at me, though sometimes glancing up at the clock on the wall. “Shall I strip, remove the splint, show you my surgeries?” I asked, “no that won’t be necessary” she replied, again staring at her screen … “I was awarded DLA for life” I told her, “yes” she replied “that meant for the life of the benefit, DLA has been replaced by PIP” …. “can you raise your arms above your head?” she asked in the same monotonous tone.
I would go on, but I think everyone who is interested in reading this knows how it works. My DLA was stopped of course. I’d made the silly mistake of making it to the examination centre.
My point of this post – Once there was Social Security for those in genuine need and I had paid in the maximum amount of National Insurance, the tax that was quite rightly levied to pay for those in need. But then 2010, the Tory/LibDem coalition, ideological ‘austerity’ and their wicked and shameful attack on the disabled. Where previous governments had supported DLA (Disability Living Allowance), awarded for life, because what would be the point of wasting time & money on dragging these people back for repeat examinations? This new (and somehow still sitting 12-1/2 years later) government, decided to ‘rename’ DLA as PIP thus terminating the life of DLA and forcing all those who were entitled to it, depended on it, needed it, had then again to endure humiliating re assessments by so called ‘medical practitioners’ guided by and decisions made by a ‘points based’ database delivered through a web page on a computer screen.
The government took away a vital lifeline for thousands of genuinely disabled people and spent more taxpayers money than they saved awarding the WCA (Work Capability Assessment) to French IT firm ‘Atos‘.
“I was awarded DLA for life” I told her, “yes” she replied “that meant for the life of the benefit, DLA has been replaced by PIP”
Thank you for reading.
- It was disclosed in November 2013 through the National Audit Office that Atos had paid no corporation tax at all in the UK in 2012.[58] The total value of contracts that had been awarded to Atos by June 2013 was approximately £1.6 billion.[59]
- Atos holds £3 billion worth of UK government contracts providing services to a wide range of organizations including NHS Scotland, Home Office,[41]Welsh Government,[42] the Ministry of Defence,[43]Transport for Greater Manchester,[44] the BBC[45] and a multimillion outsourcing contract to NS&I.[46] In the United Kingdom, from 1998 to 2015 the company was at the centre of a controversy over the management of contracts by their healthcare division of the Work Capability Assessment for the Department for Work and Pensions (DWP).[47]
Baffled Ape 