Admin! Admin! Admin!

I can handle my disability because I’ve got lots of experience in the ways of the unwalking. That’s not a word. Adaptable is a word. A great one. Luckily, I am adaptable. What I can’t deal with these days is admin. Insurance companies reviewing my income protector claim like I’m miraculously going to be cured, medical aid schemes dragging their feet to approve my PMB status as though there’s nothing wrong with me (and I’m training for the Comrades). Not to mention all the tests doctors have to conduct on me. Ok, doctors are a necessity and important, but they’re still admin. Disability home improvements, Sanral never giving up on me, another arsehole parking on the disabled parking, making a list of the groceries I need to buy, and what the hell am I’m going to cook for dinner? Transferring a thousand times with my wheel chair to get to physiotherapy. Showering way too long, brushing my teeth, superbugs trying to kill me, and an acute case of insomnia. Why am I not tearing off tights with my teeth? Too much admin! Admin! Admin!