This is the case. My case/part 5

I am not sure what the right word is. Translation programs tells me “querulant” And this is what Wikipedia tells me about the querulant:

A querulant (from the Latin querulus - "complaining") is a person who obsessively feels wronged, particularly about minor causes of action. In particular the term is used for those who repeatedly petition authorities or pursue legal actions based on manifestly unfounded grounds. These applications include in particular complaints about petty offenses.

Querulant behavior is to be distinguished from either the obsessive pursuit of justice regarding major injustices, or the proportionate, reasonable, pursuit of justice regarding minor grievances. According to Mullen and Lester, the life of the querulant individual becomes consumed by their personal pursuit of justice in relation to minor grievances.[1]

So, it seams like the correct translation of the Swedish “rättshaverist” is querulant. And that’s something I definitely not want to be. So instead of protesting I agree on being wronged. I agree on being trampled. 

I need to briefly walk you through what happened up until now.

In April I applied for help from the City with getting from my bed and couch to the bathroom, as well as being assisted to my treatments two times a week. In June my application was denied by the City and in November I appealed to the Court of First Instance (Förvaltningsrätten). And lost. 

Although my lawyer and I have very little hope about a different outcome, we are now in the process of appealing to the Court of Second Instance (Kammarrätten). The verdict is absurd in so many ways, and we need to make our voice heard one more time.

Meanwhile I have had a second application in process with the City. In July I applied for assistance with getting dressed in the morning and undressed in the evening, as well as supervising/help while washing myself, brushing my teeth a s o, those basic things we all need to do every morning and evening. At New Years my application was denied by the City.

Again, I had the right to appeal to the Court of First Instance, Förvaltningsrätten. With the experience from the last trial though, it felt hopeless. No point at all. On the other hand, what else could I do? I desperately need what I am asking for. They are basic human rights, and there is no other way for me to go. But to operate two litigations at the same time?

I talked to my angel lawyer who has charged me 5 hours and up until now surely put in at least 25. We pondered different scenarios and talked back and forth and finally agreed on not appealing the second application. Tomorrow January 19 is the last day for an appeal from me, and there won’t be one. Because of the imminent risk of me being judged as a querulant.

By not appealing and protesting I am giving the City right to deny me the help I so desperately need. They have beaten me. I feel like I am lying on my back on the floor, the City officials and the court sitting on my chest holding my wrists above my head to the floor. Up until now I have been lying in under them wriggling and kicking. Taking the decision not to appeal I stopped kicking. I have given in. I am still now. Beaten. I can hardly breath.

How do you rise from such a defeat? Where do I get the strength to take any other fight what so ever in the future?

All I am asking for is the possibility going to the bathroom, taking care of my personal hygien, getting dressed and get to my treatments. That’s minor things in a troubled world perspective and in that sense I am a querulant, surely. But to me, that’s my world. My troubled world.

Not appealing against a City decision so clearly lacking any kind of humanity makes every fiber in my body rise in protest. I feel sick. But by doing so I would be judged as  a querulant, “a person who obsessively feels wronged, particularly about minor causes of action. In particular the term is used for those who repeatedly petition authorities or pursue legal actions based on manifestly unfounded grounds. These applications include in particular complaints about petty offenses…The life of the querulant individual becomes consumed by their personal pursuit of justice in relation to minor grievances. (Wikipedia)

I can’t breathe. I feel sick.