Illness

Self-employed and ill. I hope for your sake it’s not for long.

Get your little violins out.  I’ve been ill. About 10 days ago I could feel a cold was incoming. You know the feeling. Banging head, sore throat, nose becoming more congested by the minute and aching constantly. I shouldn’t be too surprised really. I was working in freezing temperatures and in dirty, dusty environments which didn’t help. Plus, the fact that I was getting up early, constantly on the go and being around members of the public who were sneezing and snotting their way around the classroom, it was inevitable. Then I started to feel better. Just in time for me to scrub up and go to a dear, close friend’s wedding in Bristol. But it was a false dawn. After a heavy night of drinking (which I haven’t done since the 31^st December) cold temperatures and rain, this finally proved to be the tipping point. I woke up feeling terribly hungover. Walking around the centre of Bristol early on a Sunday morning, not feeling or looking, too different than the local, more addictive personalities at that particular time desperately searching for some much needed nourishment (Egg McMuffin and a hash brown). I summoned up the strength to drive back to Cambridgeshire later that morning and then I began my downhill descent into self-inflicted cold, melancholy and generally feeling sorry for myself. Being self-employed makes you stubborn and determined. Knowing that taking any days off sick will mean that you will lose earnings instantly and potentially put at risk the trust you have earned with other training providers who offer you this work is not something to be taken lightly. I struggled on for another 4 days but Friday morning was the last straw. My job that day was to drive to Buckinghamshire to deliver a manual handling course to quite a major governmental organisation for another training provider that I have a close relationship with, but it was a step too far. I could barely talk as my voice had virtually disappeared. I had slept for around 3 hours because of constant, bark-like coughing, my sinuses felt like they had been pipe filled with superglue and I felt awful. So I had to phone in sick. I hate phoning in sick. Luckily for me, the training provider (Hi Phil & Nic if you’re reading this), were lovely and understanding which was a relief after I left a pathetic, asthmatic sounding and grovelling voicemail message just before 7am on their phones. During that Friday off whilst lying on the sofa with my Labrador, Nyla, dosed up to my eyeballs on Lemsip, I began to wonder what this must be like for someone who had more than just a virus. Someone who has to be at home because of illness or injury for a significant period of time and being totally self-reliant without the backup of sick pay from an employer. The figures are startling. The Uncovered A quick search on Google and you can see for yourself that the number of workers in the UK who declare themselves as self-employed is around 4.3 million. It is estimated that out of that 4.3 million people, roughly 6% of them have income protection insurance for injury, illness or both. The rest? Nothing. No cover, no financial security blanket if they are incapacitated and cannot provide for themselves or their family. Maybe a few of them have family members who can financially provide support should the worst was to happen but I’m willing to say that this would definitely apply to the minority. This is staggering. I don’t know if the majority of this number are living in blissful denial. This would never happen to me kind of attitude. Or is it more of the case that they just haven’t conceived the idea of being off work for a considerable amount of time without any earnings entering their bank account? Work, work, work then rest Covid was absolutely devastating for me from a work perspective. Having just declared myself as self-employed in January 2020, the spectre of lockdowns, pan-bashing and universal credit ineptitude was unwittingly just around the corner. Then it arrived. And I didn’t know what to do. It was worrying.

So, when I could work, I worked, whenever I could work. I did. I worked at times for below average money. I put myself out there to earn something, anything just to keep the wolf from the door and to ease the pressure on us as a family.

That feeling, that need, has never really left me since that time. It’s true that I can be more selective with what I do. If something isn’t financially viable, I won’t just take the work. But that need to work all the time does have obvious downsides and one of them is getting run down. Perhaps that why, I was more susceptible to illness, maybe it was just a coincidence but I should really consider taking a little breather at times instead of working until I’m in the red zone. Right. I think it’s time to get myself another hot drink and to neck another couple of paracetamols to get back to winning ways. Till next time,

Dan.