So, I’m gonna give you all a little peek behind the scenes of Gem’s world.
Over the past week I have been dealing with District Nurses going rogue and thinking they can tell me what to do with regard to my son’s continuing care.
I just want to place a caveat here right now, I have been doing the over and above normal parenting personal/medical care of my son for 30 years. 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.
I get 14 hours a week off to do as I please. That’s two hours a day. I use that time to do housework, accounting work, mosaicing and writing. I don’t always manage to secure the full 14 hours. Just sayin’.
My son is 30, he is still rocking the shit out of life because I have made sure he gets the best care and attention he can get, I insist on it. It is his right as a human being to not have to accept second best just because he’s disabled and reliant upon assistance from others for basic care needs.
My instructions regarding house visits from anyone to do with the medical profession are simple. You phone me first and make an appointment that is convenient to both parties. Only one person to attend, not one and a trainee. I don’t get paid to train people, they can do that on their own time. That rule is more important this year than ever before, I think they have forgotten the world is currently gripped in the claws of the worst pandemic in almost one hundred years and as a species, we are dealing with it badly. Very badly.
Low foot fall into my home ensures my son remains as safe as is possible during this dangerous time. It’s not a strange time, it’s dangerous and deadly and these people need to stop thinking they are immune to covid because they are wearing a ppe outfit when they come through my door. They could be carriers, we know nothing at all about covid that is useful enough to warrant unnecessary visits for information that could be given over the phone.
So last week, a new District nurse (DN from this point on) decided she would override my instructions re house visits and called unexpectedly, not just her, she brought a trainee. I had nipped out to do essential shopping. She managed in a very short space of time, to stress my son out so drastically, he experienced a number of epileptic events later in the evening. That means I did not get any sleep that night.
I spent the remainder of last week on the phone with various officials and heads of departments pointing out the fuckwittery that had abounded from a member of their staff.
I thought it was sorted, I really did, but this is my life, the DN’s turned up again yesterday, were duly denied entrance because they had not made an appointment, nor will I tolerate two of them in my house. My position on this is crystal clear.
I look after my son’s pressure sores along with any other personal care he may need, there is a dignity issue to be addressed, he deserves to be able to preserve his dignity. I am more than capable of dealing with 99% of anything that his health chucks at us, I am also not too stubborn to stand down and ask for assistance when it’s beyond my ability to fix what’s gone wrong. I am reasonable, practical, efficient and completely professional when delivering his obs, medical history when required and all other pertinent information to a medical ‘professional’ and at this point I use the term professional very loosely.
I am an expert in the field of caring for my son. That’s it, not the whole world, just my son.
I will be speaking to the head of the DN’s later this afternoon. A meeting, in my home, socially distanced of course, ppe’d to death but that man may never be the same again after this morning’s fucked up third visit without an appointment from the same DN who decided she is a new broom sweeping clean and things will be done her way from now on. She all but uttered those words, in a voice so loud and strident she managed to stress my son’s assistance dog out who was circling Son’s wheelchair in an effort to protect his ‘Daddy’ from the mad woman screeching at the door.
I am in a towering rage and I have not been off the bloody phone all morning. How she got away from here unscathed is anyone’s guess but is possibly more to do with my own self preservation than her ability to dodge bullets.
Someone is getting three new arseholes ripped this afternoon and I know where to hide the body where it will never be found.
That’s the tip of my particular life iceberg right now, that’s at the pinnacle of the stress mountain I live with.
I needed a little rant.
I’m all good now and breathing calmly, the flames have receded and my resting bitch face is no longer on instant death stare. I’m not sure it will stay at amber. Wish him luck people, he is going to need it in buckets.