Well - actually my name is Paul

- my parents weren't that progressive.
I'm disabled after I broke my back, the fusion op failed and I ended up unable to walk, with nerves tangled in scar tissue and ectopic bone growth. I take 31 pills a day to cope with the constant pain. Life's not really a "bowl of cherries" - and it will never get better. I'm officially on palliative care for the rest of my life.
I'm 64 and currently on ESA and DLA (highest rates) but have little idea what happens in a year's time when I "officially" retire. It scares the life out of me to be honest.
I've just been called in for a "fitness to work" assessment - despite letters from my doctor, having been told I'd never be called again and the fact that our local assessment office has no lift, the outside has no disabled access and the reception is on the first floor.
I'm sure that potential employers are falling over themselves to hire a 64 year old person, who sleeps much of the day, is unable to sit up for more than 15 minutes, needs help going to the loo and may not even be able to get there on a "bad day"!! I could always try and get into parliament I suppose - the hours and abilities sound just about right