In November 2016, I’d moved 500 miles from my hometown of Inverness in Scotland to Islington, in London. I was 25, working long hours as a bar manager and had the promise of an exciting future ahead of me. It was then I was diagnosed with a brain tumour.
It’s true that there’s no good time to be diagnosed with cancer, but when you’re in your 20s, living far away from home with hardly any savings, there’s so much more than just your health to worry about. I had to give up my job and my treatment was so intense that the only option was to go back home, so that my mum and dad could look after me.
It was a huge blow and the only thing that got me through was regularly reminding myself I still had my whole future to come. I was desperate to get my life back on track after my recovery and pick up where I’d left things in London; I looked forward to surrounding myself with friends and living the life of a normal twentysomething. Refusing to cut ties, and realising I needed to make plans to move forward with my life and find my new normal, I decided to carry on renting my room in Islington in order to make this happen. I endured months of gruelling surgery and radiotherapy. This zapped me of my energy, while my small savings were also poured into keeping my room. I couldn’t bear to let cancer strip me of my independence and everything I’d worked for.
But I knew I couldn’t keep going without any income and just a couple of weeks after my brain surgery, still struggling with fatigue and other side effects, I went to the jobcentre to apply for universal credit. I desperately needed some help, after everything I’d been through. But instead of a saving grace, I was faced with another ordeal as I had to sit in front of a computer for an exhausting six hours to fill in the painstakingly long application form. I couldn’t believe this was the process for people, like me, who had been forced to leave jobs they loved because of ill health and were just trying to get by. Worse still, because I registered at the jobcentre in Scotland, when I did eventually move back to London, I couldn’t change my home and benefits to there.
A further insult was that, because I was under 26, I wasn’t termed an adult, so I was entitled to even less. This was despite the fact that I left home at 19 and have been independent since then. The whole thing was humiliating.
People on the universal credit helpline weren’t any better. They dismissed my problems and told me I should go back home to Scotland. I felt real pressure to do this, but there’s nothing really left for me there. I don’t know many people there any more, it would just be me, mum and dad – and I’m no longer allowed to drive, which is a real disadvantage in a rural place like Inverness. I love being independent but cancer stole that and universal credit made it even worse. I feel like I’ve been penalised for having cancer and I just want to get my life back. Universal credit was the worst part. I could deal with the cancer and the treatment, but not universal credit.
Anyone in the UK in need of welfare advice can call Macmillan’s free support line on 0808 808 00 00 or visit macmillan.org.uk