November 17. That’s the date for my case in the court hearing (Förvaltningsrätten). I was summoned the other day.
Right now I feel a little bit better about the situation. I have a strong and clear attestation (is that a word that works here?) from my doctor. Another one from a nurse specialized in pain who have seen me for several years. A third describing every situation throughout the day and the help I need in each one of them. And Awara who is one of the owners of Civil Care (my home care company), Josephine (who works for them and also is my neighbor) and Trouble 2 are approved and summoned as witnesses.
But the reason to why I Friday afternoon felt like a glass of champagne is that I got myself a lawyer!
Very few lawyers are specialized in this field. There isn’t a lot of money to make on poor, sick, disabled and vulnerable people. And the cases don’t make head lines in the news papers. A bit like why pain is not an interesting research field, it won’t give you a Nobel Prize.
In Umeå there is only one law firm with some knowledge in these matters. I called them a while ago and talked to a vey nice young man who couldn’t take me on because of time issues.
- If I can’t put love into a case I have to say no.
A lawyer talking in terms of love! Although my disappointment I was smiling at my end of the line, saying, at least I know you are the right person for me.
Now, my hearing was postponed and the nice young man agreed on meeting me. Which happened Friday late afternoon. When most everyone was preparing for Halloween parties or lit candles on their loved ones graves on All Saints Eve, he drove all the way to the end of the road in my little village and sat with me for two hours listening to my long and sad story.
He listened. He took it all in. He questioned everything I questioned in the City decision denying me the help I need. He read the different attestations telling about my physical conditions and my situation and he said:
- We’ve got a case.
Oh how I had dreamt of those words!
We have no clue of course. A court is a court. And even if we should win, the City might very well appeal to a higher court (Kammarrätten) and I would have to continue my fight. Fight, fight, fight.
It’s interesting. I am discovering something I didn’t know about myself. A court is a court. It’s square. Strict with sharp corners. Steel and concrete. That’s the nature of it and that is how it must be. As a pretty articulate (in my mother tongue) person, communicative and with some talent in connecting to people, I am suddenly realizing the world around me being bendable. I’ve never thought about it that way. Plastic. Ductile. Moldable. The world around me, to some degree, is shaped depending on how well I am doing making contact with people and formulating myself. It sounds manipulative, breaking it down like this, I hope it isn’t though.
But here I am, on my way to court, in a matter about life, and the talents that I trust (without being aware of it) are insignificant. No good. Or even to my disadvantage. I need to really watch myself. Make myself a bit square. Not to come across as a manipulator. And ruin things for myself.
So. It’s Friday evening. The sweet lawyer is petting my kitten who hasn’t left his side during the two hours. He is telling me that he will be with me during the hearing and bring my claim in court. And from now on, he will be the one doing the job.
I can’t express the relief and gratitude I am feeling. The whole thing is still extremely scary. This is serious. But I am not alone anymore. We have a case.
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