Full disclosure: I fucking adore Queen. The ability to time travel would put me front and centre at their Live Aid show. If you cannot comprehend this adoration, then I am not your kind of person right now. And that’s OK.

Full disclosure 2: This post was written by a thankful wife in a happy rosé induced haze at the request of a deserving husband. I cannot be sorry about that.

This morning the dreaded brown DWP envelope arrived. It was due. In fact it was late so hardly a surprise, but oh how we dreaded the outcome.

# I’ve done my sentence, but committed no crime #

I tore at the envelope and under Kev’s watchful gaze, scanned for the words “cannot award”

Instead what I saw were the words “enhanced rate”.

Twice.

I have received the maximum award on both elements of the Personal Independence Payment for the maximum length of time.

*exhale*

It’s more than we could have hoped for. But even I know it’s not undeserved.

# We’ll keep on fighting til the end #

I didn’t fight. I didn’t have it in me. I couldn’t face the reality of my diminishing capabilities, especially for money. Even though we need it, it seemed so cheap and crass.

So Kev wrote the reality down for me, determined I should have a chance at what we needed to survive.

And they listened. I never could have expected that, the system is such a shambles. The relief is indescribable because right now, it isn’t real.

I no longer have to push myself to work. I can choose to devote myself to my family. I don’t have to feel guilty about forcing a financial burden onto my husband. I don’t have to push through chronic pain to make ends meet anymore.

For the first time in such a long time living with this condition, I have choices. That is everything.

And if you are suffering in yourself the way I have these last few months thanks to this travesty of a system, I beg you to hold on. If for no other reason than I know you bloody well deserve to.