There isn’t any sex in this post, but I needed to write this out somewhere, and it seems like this is where it may get the most reach, so please excuse me.

The Phantom Menace

The first time I applied for PIP I was told I wasn’t disabled enough. The DWP didn’t exactly explain why, but the (scarily personalised, with the use of “I have decided…” sentences) letter had that message. I left it for a confused month or so before some friends of mine who also claim PIP suggested that one never gets it first time, and a re-application may be successful.

I tried to re-apply online, but it wouldn’t let me. Whether I used my existing login or a new account. The system, I was told after 60 minutes of juggling my testicles on hold, wasn’t finished yet. I could send a paper version of the form, apparently, but I couldn’t download it – I had to wait for one.

Attack of the Clones

The second time I applied for PIP I took one look at the form and had a number of thoughts, including things like:

– if you are blind or partially sighted, how do you claim PIP?
– if you are dyslexic or illiterate, how do you claim PIP?
– if you are intellectually incapacitated, how do you claim PIP?
– if you are working with English as an additional language, how do you claim PIP?
– if you are homeless or living in temporary accommodation, how do you claim PIP?

I do not fall into any of those categories, but I do have myotonia (a condition where your muscles can lock up and not loosen for a while), and writing longhand is getting to be painful. Despite being told I couldn’t do it, I typed my application and printed it out, then sent that.

I didn’t hear anything for months. I eventually got through to the DWP after another session of testicle-juggling to be told that someone put it in the recycling “by mistake”. They weren’t planning to tell me that they had thrown away my application, and were surprised I could remember I had sent one. When I pointed out that I had a very high IQ, an intellectually demanding job, two university degrees and besides, I had sent two applications, they sent me £100 as a “gift”. They weren’t willing to give me PIP, though.

Revenge of the Sith

The third time I applied for PIP I got my MP involved. Not only did I send her a letter, I also sent her a copy of the (third) application and letter I’d sent the DWP. She, to her credit, sat on the ‘phone juggling her testicles for two hours before they answered. They were surprised at having to talk to an MP, assuming parliament were all behind them.

I sent my application with, attached, a letter from my neurologist who was the world expert in my disability; a copy of the occupational health report from work; something from my former boss supporting my claim; and, finally, confirmation that I had (in the year since I first applied) been awarded Access to Work, got a freedom pass and a disabled person’s railcard, and been referred to cardiology since I had developed a secondary condition with my heart.

It took them two months to get around to my application. For the past couple of years, I have been receiving a small amount of PIP which mostly goes to pay my cleaner once a week. Without it (and Access to Work, just as useful), I would not be able to afford to live. At least, not the way I do now in the location I’m in. I can’t just up sticks and go somewhere cheaper, because:

a) I’ve got a job in the local area
b) they’d cancel my PIP

A New Hope

I am showing my privilege here, but my PIP isn’t at as much threat as many others’, since I am in work and the proposed cuts are aiming at victimising those unable to work. I find physical activity difficult, but I am going into work, day in, day out (unless I am in hospital – which has happened now, three times). I’m doing this because I enjoy my job… and I also need the money.

I live in London. Of course I need money.

But what happens to those who can’t work? Those who only get PIP? As above, even the application process is deliberately designed to be hellish and labyrinthine. Those who survive the DWP Hunger Games are few and, it seems, fortunate. Applying for PIP is a gamble no matter how disabled you are. I’m still astonished I made it.

So, to those asking, no – you don’t just call and ask. You do have to start by doing that, so if you are deaf or mute or can’t speak English, or don’t have the time or wherewithal to sit for hours and juggle one’s testicles, that’s already not really an option.

And threatening to remove it is almost theatrically evil.

The Empire Strikes Back

God forbid.