JOBCENTRE WRAG-TIME a poem

I went to the local Jobcentre

With painkillers, stick and bag

I had to go, fearing sanctions

Cos I've gone and been put in the "WRAG."

It makes me feel poorly on buses

But with hypos I mustn't drive,

So I stumbled in all of a-tremble,

And barely a quarter alive.

It took me all my precious "spoons"

To balance and to breathe,

I had to watch the pavement

As it starts to shift and seethe.

My 80 year old mother came

To help me open doors

Which invariably seem to stick

Defying gravity's laws.

My appointment was half past eleven,

Though I hadn't slept night after night.

My legs felt as wobbly as rubber

I was sickened by motion and light.

But the Jobcentre seemed rather quiet

With everyone there in their place,

No loud noises were blorting to hurt me

Which was abso-bloomin-lutely ace.

A lass who was wearing a label

Which I guess spelled out her name

Started asking me what was my business

And the reason that I came?

I explained I'm in the “WRAG” group

And I had to meet the girl

Who's my “Personal Adviser”

Who I'll call, for rhyme's sake, “Shirl.”

She looked me up, she looked me down,

She showed me to a chair,

Where in pain I tried to balance

Near to others who were there.

Some were reading adverts,

While others filled in forms,

Some jiggled kids in pushchairs

While others stifled yawns.

But everyone seemed friendly,

Efficient, polite and calm,

And as I got my breath back

One young woman touched my arm.

She said my name and greeted me

And helped me cross the carpet,

Pulled out a chair to help me

Cos by now my “spoons” had scarpered!

She reassured me from the off

She wasn't there to press me,

ATOS had done what ATOS do,

Here no one would undress me

Or frown and say “M.E.? What's that?”

You look fit as a fiddle!”

She listened and she understood

(Not influenced by Rod Liddle!)

I didn't wear my dog-collar,

So I was a bit astounded,

She knew the kind of help I'd need,

Advice was wise and grounded.

She tapped on her computer screen

To calculate & compare,

If work from home might pay at all

What hours, what skills to share.

She knew from my work history

I wasn't one for shirking,

She knew that were I well enough

I'd much rather be working.

She totted up the hours

I could work or volunteer,

On top of what I manage now,

If better health were here.

She built on what my skills are

To make helpful suggestions,

She let me pace things as we talked

And answered all my questions

She learned about my brainfog

And saw it one-to-one,

She's the face among the faceless,

I was really glad I'd gone!

I asked if I had to see her

Every month from here on in,

She said it would not be needed,

(My knees must've met my chin!)

I could call her number any time

For any advice at all,

It should be another year or more

Till my next medical call.

She was honest about W.R.B.

And all the uncertain changes,

She well understood her clients' fears

And the future's scary dangers,

So clued up and supportive,

She went out of her way

To fetch me a pack to make a claim

If needed, for DLA.

Since then I've heard two other friends

At different JCPs,

Have also had this kind of help

In different degrees.

Although it took days to recover,

From this trip to the “bowels of hell”,

I consider myself very fortunate

I've a positive tale to tell.

Before you say, “yes but, no but,

ESA's just for a year.”

I must meet that bridge when I come to it,

I'm thankful for now and here.

For now, I was saved an unequal fight

To be put in the group for “support”,

Not terminal ill, not yet a corpse,

I guess I've been put where I ought.

I know the harsh rules of D.W.P.

Won't find me a miracle cure,

With their strict time-limitation,

But the future is seldom sure!

We can only live in the moment,

And fight on for those with no voice,

Play fair even when we've been diddled,

Or grow bitter and bolshy by choice.

Back at home I was soon reminded,

How true were the things we'd discussed,

How far I am from “fit for work”

The adrenalin soon repercussed.

I slept till the daylight was dying,

As body and brain disengages

With the payback from that short journey

I just couldn't function for ages.

But at least one Jobcentre employee,

Understands disability more,

Has more now of M.E. awareness,

It won't stop me fighting injustice,

With others whom ATOS have harmed,

But I went to the WRAG, and I learned some,

As with all things, forewarned is forearmed.