New news from The Little Family and a new turn in our life.
Another paradox of “The Red Tape”.
All the excitement around our situation has made me ill, and I called our GP earlier this afternoon. Once diagnosed with a stomach ulcer, we talked about our needs.
It is agreed that the house needs the great cleaning about which we have been talking for months. Dr Quack was even surprised that it had not already been done. Out was his prescription pad and busy did he become plying his pen along the page, requiring a cleaning firm to be sent to do the scouring from basement to attic, and then the assurance that a cleaning lady would come two hours a week to help me do the routine tidying. Out was his cell phone to ring up the finance administrator to discuss the situation and to release the necessary funds.
I asked for a package: house and garden, as growing grass is a constant preoccupation, everywhere in the garden and, especially, close to the house: little animals of the fields and meadows may find their way within our walls.
I underlined the necessity to have a car that I might drive to go where we need when we need, and in case of emergency – on behalf of Anne-Fleur and The whole Little Family.
The finance administrator was out of reach – in a meeting or not at her desk – but Dr Quack left a message asking her to ring him back. Undaunted, he told me that he would ring her back himself if he had no news very quickly.
In France, in cases such as Anne-Fleur’s, a MD/GP reigns. His word overrules all words – in a limited way but it has a true weight.
And then came the solution to our situation.
A carer, like me, has no status in France. The only person who has a status is the handicapped person. Therefore, a carer has no help. The handicapped person gets help – such help pushing slightly aside the carer. So, in order for the carer to get help, he/she/ I must be declared handicapped.
As soon as I am declared handicapped, I may receive the help of a cleaning lady, the car can be repaired without protest, the gardener may be operational (in theory), and I may receive a small allowance (less than Anne-Fleur) but an allowance.
But I must be declared handicapped.
As I have no physical problem, the suggestion is a mental handicap.
I felt … degraded, treated without respect. But mental handicap it should be. Without having a guardian or losing my civil rights, Dr Quack hastened to say. I may be declared inapt to work because of an acute nervous breakdown verging on melancholia.
So, if you are in France, be a mentally handicapped carer and you may care about your sister suffering from Down Syndrome, with the “benefit” of a status and an allowance.
I am left to think about this but urged to make steps forward the achievement of the necessary preliminary steps in order for Doctor Quack to process as quickly as possible, for the well-being of the whole Little Family.
Now, do I sound mentally handicapped to you? Am I illogical in my wish for a proper status for carers or is The Red Tape logical?
My mind goggles and loses its marks in this maze of new concepts.