What a long, long, week.
As if being up at nights for months, with no personal care, or respite, now, effectively for 2 years, wasn’t enough.
I am now being tortured by the social services.
The snow is thick, my husband took the bus.
Issy was up at 11.00am, and, eventually in the bath.
And, I managed to get photos of her stomach..
It would appear, all those in need of support, are at the mercy, of any itinerant, zero hour, or, unpaid placement stranger, pparently, desperate, to do the State’s dirty work.
A friend in London told me, carers in care homes, demand ‘protection money’, from relatives.
What a disgusting moral compass, is now the norm.
The snow has conspired, to make even walks down the drive scary, Issy doesn’t like slippyness.
Just before noon, the funding lady, our social workers boss’s boss, rang.
My psyche, did not need this, and, Issy was demanding never ending juice, and, I was alone.
It was the usual infuriating, prescribed conversation,
‘How are things?’.
‘You surely must know how things are’. I replied.
‘You will know more than me, about what’s happening’.
‘The nice affable lady, did not turn up on Tuesday, and the Lodge Lady hasn’t today’.
‘We received no prior, or post notification, or indeed, any communication.’
‘Our only phone calls, were from the adult social services social worker, and GP, demanding to see a non- existent lump’.
This is the ‘intensive, specialist, highly expensive service’, provided to an autistic girl, not yet out of the trauma, the state, for the second time, threw her in.
The funding lady, then told me, I had ‘strong opinions’, and, the workers had not felt ‘comfortable’ in the house.
They had not mentioned, they felt ‘uncomfortable’.
Let alone why .
Its non- stop coffee, tea and chats, magazines, and two books on autism lent, and, never returned.
And, they do what they want with Issy.
I have spent the last two years, having all my cupboards rearranged, without asking, and my washing machine broken.
Being a complete tit, I have given away dresses, shoes, coats, tops, CD radios, face creams, shears, masses of legal advice etc. mainly to the lady, who had the first hissy fit.
10 Nintendo games to another worker who befriended Issy, groomed me, and after an outing with him, Issy repeatedly asked,’ Why do men like having willies up their arse?’.
He was never seen again, as not offered ‘education’ work, (more money and security).
Poor Issy has been so let down, by the itinerancy of workers, but, her fate would be much worse in ‘independent’ living.
And,Lodge Lady, had arrived daily, with a Private Eye, or, internet article, or, own experience of a care scandal, to encourage my ‘strong opinions’.
I remind the funding lady,
‘as zero hour workers, every worker can be specifically chosen, and prescribed’.
She retorts, ‘they are all individuals’.
Now, the 30 + previous agency workers, must all have felt ‘uncomfortable’…. For 18 months…. although, this, was the first I’d heard of it.
She tells me the affable, independent of the state, with a conscience lady, does not want to support Issy anymore.
So why did she choose Monday, without warning to leave ?
Why did she make me chutney and chat so freely never mentioning her ‘uncomfortability’.?
It was a loss, as she loved the autistic, and Issy liked her.
But she had said ominously, she, ‘had nothing to do, with ‘education’’.
Now, we know why.
I assume, she didn’t want to get involved in their dirty tricks, of the lucrative, independent of family living, industry.
I noticed the nice workers disappeared.
One, had a two week mystery illness, just when the trainee and social workers, were moving in for the kill, but, had a hissy fit, never to return.
I suspect, their reputable international agency, were worried about bad PR, from this blog.
Their head office, monitors the net, and had picked up my mention of their name, as a zero hour employer, in a Guardian comment, and, had banned me, from naming them on social media.
Such is the self- preservation, of our all-powerful, privatised monopolies.
The funding lady asked, if I would consider, having Lodge Lady, and a new worker.
I told her to read my blog, and then objectively decide, whether, she would.
She replied she didn’t read blogs.
Issy was demanding juice, the bath was run…. I did not need this.
I mentioned all this.
Which she must have already been aware of from Issy’s shouts.
Eventually, I forced an exit.
But the phone rang 20 minutes later.
She had read my blog.
And some points were incorrect.
It was not the Adult Social Worker, who had rung the GP, but her.
So much, then for her asking last week, what she could do, to rebuild my trust in the social services.
But, did not explain why the GP, had given the social workers name.
Nor why, the same social worker, rang us earlier reporting the lump.
Nor, why this was so important.
Secondly, she said the blog incorrectly stated the support worker, had not discussed her concern, when she had.
I said, read the blog again.
The worker had pointed out a non-existent bulge.
And then, when I, and the affable lady, had said it was pre period swelling, had said no more about it during the 4 hours that remained of her shift.
She had not pointed out,‘ a red mark, the size of a fist’.
I couldn’t bear this cross examining sophistry any longer.
And Issy needed attention.
Why was no one concerned about her ?
‘For the mother of God’, I cried.
And Issy on cue, decided the phone had to go back in its place, and grabbed it.
That night, I reflected, on what the GP had actually, been told.
I had been distracted by the impaction discussion, and the bulge comment.
I analysed the reported ‘concern’,
‘A red mark on the side of Issy’s tummy, the size of a small fist’.
I realised, it wasn’t describing a bulge,
It painted, a shocking picture, of abuse.
It could not be accidental, self-harm, or, neglect.
It was on soft tissue.
It could only be…………… a punch.
And, as small, my fist, as the primary carer, and most alone with Issy.
How might this be made to appear in court documents;
‘An education worker, who had formed a good relationship with Issy over several weeks of support, and, had just managed to get her out of the house for the first time in 9 months, noticed a red, fist sized mark on the side of Isabel’s stomach.
She pointed it out to her mother, who ignored her.
So she reported it to the social services, who rang the parents, but they would not let them see Isabel, so they rang the GP, but the parents also refused the GP’s request to come to their home and examine her.
The GP, now very concerned for Isabel’s safety, arrived at their home, he was verbally attacked by the mother, but eventually managed to examine Isabel, but she refused to undress, or cooperate. So this was not possible
The mother then refused any more support, or engagement with the social services’.
I had walked right into that one…..
If I did nothing, as photos can be air brushed, this would be taken, as irrefutable evidence of a vicious assault.
And we would be cut out of Issy’s life for ever.
The LA would have their £4,000 a week, cash and pharma cow, the Lodge Lady a career path, a loving devoted mother, would be destroyed, and a father heartbroken.
And Issy doomed to live in an abusive hell, alone.
Such is evil.
Such is morality.
Such is the danger of care workers.
I rang the GP, apologised, and, asked him round to try to re -examine Issy…..