Help in the home (part 2)

I had tried to get help from social services several times over the past few years with no success, but thanks to advice from my disability rights advocate, this time I knew that I was entitled to a care assessment. (Everyone is entitled to this, so don't be fobbed off by social service people who tell you, as they had several times with me, that they can provide meals on wheels or tell you what benefits you're entitled to, but nothing else.)

After my assessment they decided that I need someone to come three times a week for one hour per time, and this is what I've received for the four weeks since then. (I've just had a review meeting at which they've agreed to continue this level of support.) I have to say that this support has been immensely helpful, although it has taken some adjustment on my part, and it has allowed me to sustain quite a high level of wellness during this period and enabled me to focus my energies on more constructive, creative and enjoyable tasks.

I was pretty stressed the first time the carer came, as I was expecting him to be sizing me up and making a judgement on whether or not I looked ill enough to need his help, but he very tangibly didn't do this, instead he cheerfully got on with whatever tasks I asked him to do. Because of my stress levels, I felt dreadful the first time he was here, and had to lay in a comfy chair and rest as best  I could, but shortly after he left I got up, and saw all the veg I had asked him to chop in preparation for me making some fresh soup. Seeing the veg chopped gave me a wonderful burst of creative energy, and I got cooking and made myself some lovely leek and potato soup – the first time I'd been able to do that in some months. That night I slipped between fresh sheets as well, which was a lovely feeling. And so on.

Since then I've relaxed a lot about having someone come in to 'care' for me, but it's still taking some getting used to as I don't naturally like asking people to do things for me. There's also an issue with having expectations being met: for example on that first occasion, he wielded the kitchen knife like a bush hunter rather than a chef, and I ended up with some rather comically chopped leeks. (Bless him, I'd imagine he's not seen a chopping board before.) But chopped they were, even if they weren't chopped in the way I would have chopped them, and I was able to make my soup.

Chores are now getting done more regularly than I was ever able to do them, and the pressure on me to put regular effort into maintaining my home has been largely removed. (And it has enabled me on occasion to put major effort into a housework task, for example I've hoovered two rooms in stages over the past couple of weeks, as my energy hasn't been sapped by trying to keep on top of washing the dishes and doing the laundry, for example.)