Low need my arse

OK, this is the deal.

My whatever they are calling themselves today department which we would otherwise call social services (they change their name so often it seems like they have a new name more often then I have clean knickers), classes needs into four categories.

My needs for support fall into the low need category and unluckily for me and all of the others also classed as low or medium need those two categories aren't worth the paper they get written on because you have to have substantial need or critical need to get funded. I have asked for a copy of the criteria but as far as I understand it at present they fund personal care and help to make food only. My understanding is also that food they give you something like 15 minutes for something quick.

I require help to make food as my abilities go as far as being able to microwave food and chuck a tray of something light like oven chips or pizza into the oven. If it's heavy or if it's in a saucepan and I have to do it - it ain't happening. I also have what they call domestic needs - help to clean and change my bed etc. I can use the washing machine independently. Domestic needs are low category for everyone and in their opinion I am able to manage well enough with cooking to not have support.

No one told me that I don't have CP all of a sudden, so either I missed that memo or miracle or whatever happened or there is something fishy going on here.

So I queried whether I met the criteria when they reviewed it last year. And I was told "no but I did some fast talking to my manager to get you support so you could learn to be more independent" and that could no longer be justified. I wasn't told that last year. After all did I want to be fifty and still having care?! I said it wouldn't be a bad thing.

I am "just like every other man on the street she tells me too". Woman obviously needs an eye test because my bras so big that Soph reckons they look like a pair of boobs by themselves proving I am a woman not a man. But I'm also sat there in front of her in a wheelchair proving that I am not just like every one else on the street either, thank you God because who would want to be?! Particularly if that meant I had to be like her.