Reflective

Dear, well, you know who you are,

3

 I have been seduced by the sheer loveliness of Macmillan. The day we left Southmead with the crushing confirmation of Nigel’s condition was certainly one we’d sooner forget. We saw, that day, the little light we’d kept our eye fixed on cruelly snuffed out, yet just one hour after getting home, a phone call provided the strike that lit a tiny flame of relief.

A kind voice told me warmly that he was phoning from Macmillan and that Lois Baldry had fast-tracked forms for us. All he needed, he said, was Nigel’s National Insurance number. Just like that. Just days later another softly spoken gent rang me for our account details – I realise how peculiar all this sounds, fraudulent even but honestly, security questions were asked! Money was paid into our fast-dwindling account pronto. And I, we, felt overwhelmingly supported and loved.

It didn’t end there, although I expected it to. Through the post I received confirmation of our PIP claim with a covering letter from Macmillan explaining why we were entitled to this help. They also sent information on a ‘new style ESA’ benefit that we’re entitled to, with a number to call and what can only be called a script to follow when speaking to the ‘telephony operator’. It took two attempts but I did get exactly what I needed.

‘Yes, Macmillan said you’d say that but, apparently, in our case you’re wrong…’

We also paid a visit to the Bath Citizens Advice Bureau. Thanks to Macmillan I already knew that we wouldn’t qualify for anything means tested so I didn’t bother taking a ton of paperwork with us. I did, however, take the ‘new style ESA’ form together with the details of the PIP thing we were getting. A lovely chap on reception told us we would be in room 1 and gave us a card with the number 1 on it… There was no one else in reception. At 10.30, on the dot, we were met by Steve who took us, not to room 1 (the reception guy rather awkwardly took our card) but, down some steps to another room – the Macmillan room. Yep, we had our own Macmillan Citizens Advice dude!

The help we received in just one hour was so positive. Steve even filled the form out for me, as he was fascinated by the new layout. In between giving us monetary advice, he talked about his own cancer experience.

‘I treated it like a big adventure!’

On describing his radiotherapy treatment, he explained to Nige how tired he’d feel – ‘Not straight a way but it will catch up with you so rest after your first treatment.’ I think that made a lot of difference to Nige. To talk to a guy, similar in age, about what he was about to go through was a big thing. An important thing. A thing so great, we decided to go for breakfast once we’d said our farewells, all smiles and hand-holding.

So, already I have reason to love Macmillan and what they do. The fact that on that crappy Wednesday a Macmillan volunteer decided to ring me and shine a light into our grim world with his practical problem-solving voice. I know it won’t burn forever but it does signify hope, doesn’t it? And anyway, it’s not necessarily how long a light burns for but how brightly… Right?

8764-youre-simply-splendid

*

Our next step, after these few days of inactivity, is to prepare for and start the radiotherapy. Nige will also be having oral chemotherapy so I’m expecting, well, I’m not sure really. They give you a whole list of things to expect but, honestly, it’s a bit shit. A ‘shit list’. And I’m hoping for more of a ‘little bit unpleasant list’ and will settle for nothing else.

 

 

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