These are my recollections from the safeguarding investigation, begun just before my mother’s death, where allegations were not checked and I was not even invited to respond. It ended without anything having been proven.
I publish this now, as I don’t know what my future will be. Or even if I have a future. The stress has seriously undermined my ‘health’. In short, I was judged based on gossip and hearsay. The malice of the various parties involved shocked me and continues to shock me. I was a carer who worked hard to ensure that my mum had excellent care. That her last months were as good as they could be. I did that without support from family, district nurses and social workers. Indeed, they often made our lives harder. A local politician persuaded social services to do their job and pay towards her care. He is one of the heroes, getting mum what she was entitled to when I couldn’t. On the other hand, documentation would show that many of those I considered kind and caring had their moments. That they would blame me to cover up their mistakes. And that worked.
The worst thing was that our GP believed those who thought I was a totally different individual. Stupid, irresponsible, selfish and perhaps even sadistic. Someone that all reasonable people would hate. He organised and participated in a gossip-fest, where people, most of whom didn’t know me, tried to outdo themselves in making up the most absurd allegations. Let me take you through what I feel was a journey of cruelty and trauma.
June 29.
I didn’t really know about safeguarding enquiries until I became the subject of one. I had a vague recollection about such investigations where it was thought that a child was being abused or neglected. And you didn’t start those until one had seen several bruises or broken limbs on different occasions. But I didn’t realise that you could be investigated as a result of gossip. And not realistic gossip but the type which would have required the subject to have had a complete personality transplant in the previous three weeks. In my case, I went from being a nun to Attila the Hun.
The first inkling that something odd was happening was a phone call from my GP late one afternoon to tell me to stop being rude. Well, you’re never too old to develop a new character trait, I suppose. I asked for examples but he had none. That was the warning. No examples. A district nurse had accused me of being rude so I was rude. I don’t recall that, but more of that later.
This was followed about two days later by a second call, to insist I stop giving mum her medication. That was easy. I didn’t involve myself with her medication, except for one time when I showed the carer how to crush a paracetamol tablet in a gadget when the Panadol had ran out. Either I crushed the tablet and added some water or mum wouldn’t have her pain medication as prescribed. It seemed sensible. The point is, that this was probably the only time I gave any medication to my mother in the two years before her death. I knew then that things were definitely not right. As the minutes of the safeguarding meeting would subsequently reveal, if I wasn’t handling medication, I was placing undue pressure on the agency carers to give mum Oramorph and/or lorazepam. Pressure, they apparently, couldn’t resist. Pressure that made them so anxious that they felt unable to ask a colleague for guidance. Except they did which is why one of the agency staff knew of their predicament. The minutes were not exactly consistent. Or accurate.
I assured the GP again that I was not involved with the medication so it wasn’t an issue. Sadly, he was not persuaded. I was informed that several sources had alleged I was giving mum Oramorph and/or lorazepam when she didn’t need it. (As you do as a health professional, which I was). The simple truth is that I didn’t give, nor insist that anyone else give mum Oramorph or lorazepam. Ever.
I had enough to do applying for grants and benefits to top up mum’s dismally limited income. And clean, cook, wash, get repairers when required etc. I was up at 7am and didn’t finish till 9pm. Resting? A few minutes here and there. And why pay carers if you don’t let them do their work?
I admit that there had been an incident with district nurse (DN) R who had given mum an enema although mum could not get to the commode anymore, even with help from a carer. She was too frail. The OTs had tried a hoist but it wasn’t the solution. I don’t know why R wasn’t aware of mum’s deterioration. I had assumed the DNs and OTs communicated with one another. Maybe not this time.
After the enema, mum was clearly in pain. Indeed, after a while, she screamed, which is very unlike her. As she was no longer able to get to the commode without help, and not all carers had the strength to move her on their own, I told the nurse I disagreed with it. In a slightly raised voice. Assertive. Clear. She knew how I felt. If that is rude, then everyone else on this planet is a hell of a lot ruder. The enema was given on the Monday of that week. I came into the room after it had happened. There was nothing I could do.
R rang the next day to ask how mum was. I informed her that she was in excruciating pain (she was crying in agony and I had a mum who never cries). Her response was: ‘that’s fine’. Thinking she had not heard me properly, I repeated that she was in great pain. ‘No, she replied. ‘That’s fine’. I told her that I didn’t think it was fine and would flag this up. Was this rude?
On Friday, DN Charlie came into our lives. Mum had by this time developed a high temperature which concerned me but not the carers. Had I been the type to put pressure on people, you wouldn’t have expected me just to ask what the others thought. As they took a ‘wait and see’ approach, so did I. Charlie saw mum, noted her temperature, decided she needed a morphine injection and was going to administer it until he realised there was no drug chart. Without knowing the dose, he couldn’t give mum anything. It was 6.30pm. He called the surgery, asked them to stay open, and told me that he would give the chart to the night nurses who would come later.
Rudeness. Mum was given the morphine and the night nurse told me that she was not going to give another injection so I was to call a doctor for Oramorph, lorazepam and an anti-emetic the next day. It was not so much a suggestion as an order. I suspect R had ‘stirred’ in the office. She had turned me into a troublemaker, the spawn of the devil, an idiot, except Charlie clearly hadn’t got the memo. He was professional, kind and supportive. He listened to me and explained what would happen. He advised. Just the right DN for End of Life Care.
Within a few hours on the Saturday, the Oramorph was waiting for collection at the chemist. However, there was no sign of the lorazepam or anti-emetic. Mum was still asleep. She hadn’t woken up that morning, but I suspected that the morphine the night before might have zonked her out. I called 111 again to ask what had happened to the other prescribed medicines but the call handler kept asking questions like, ‘is she breathing?’, ‘is she awake?’. After that question, I told her she was not. It was probably after 10.30. ‘Can you wake her?’ No, I couldn’t. Neither could the carer. That is when the call handler decided to transfer me to a clinical assistant. ‘Can you wake her’? he asked. He then enquired about her breathing. The other carer counted and the person from 111 said that it was way too fast. He’d send an ambulance to assess her.
They arrived quickly and took less than a minute to decide that mum needed to go to hospital. She was unresponsive, febrile (38.5C) and clearly had problems. Then my brother arrived. It was morning and he often popped by, standing at the window behind mum’s bed. He stopped the paramedics from taking her into the ambulance saying mum would not like to go to hospital. In other words, they should leave her at home. Remember that this was a Saturday morning. What were we supposed to do at a time that GPs rarely came out to examine patients? A day or few days before, brother had told the carers and me that he was not happy about mum being given Oramorph (he didn’t like the stuff) or lorazepam (he didn’t like that either). He’s a fire investigator. Not medically qualified. Still, he eventually gave his permission, so the paramedics took her to hospital.
Before they left, I told mum that whatever happens, it would be ok. She later told me that she had heard me but hadn’t been able to respond.
An hour or so after the ambulance left, the Consultant from A & E rang. ‘Can you give me some history please? We have nothing’. I told her about the enema, the pain and the temperature. ‘Well’, she said, ‘I’ve just removed an awful lot of hard impacted faeces, so how did the nurse think an enema was going to work’? She sounded thoroughly fed up with the fact that she was having to deal with basic procedures. There had been a bowel movement after the enema but she thought that might have been what they call overflow. She also enquired when mum had last had a rectal exam. I told her it was a long time ago, (I didn’t know that she had had one before the enema and the carer didn’t witness it either). What surprised me was that she had not had more, as she had repeatedly told health professionals that she had pain in her bottom. She even referred to the rectum once.
The good news was that mum had come round. She was talking and eating a sandwich. They had no idea where the temperature came from but they guessed a UTI so would put her on antibiotics. They’d keep her in for a night for observation but I could expect her home tomorrow. I was delirious with happiness.
She came home the next morning, sat in her chair but looked tired. I therefore asked her if she’d like to go to bed and the man from transport helped her. And that is more or less where she stayed for the rest of her life. The deterioration that ended in her death began with that wretched enema.
The five days before she died were difficult. I had become the subject of a safeguarding investigation because I was allegedly messing around with mum’s medication and had said inappropriate things. Tried to manipulate the will and a few other nasties. But no one had checked anything, eg looked at the drug records to ascertain how many doses of medication mum had actually been given. (I never saw anyone give her Oramorph). All I knew was that there were several sources. One was my brother as the letter from the solicitor from the safeguarding committee would reveal. The other was a carer who rang my brother. A third was a carer who had given mum double the dose of lorazepam and blamed me. (She had asked where the drug was kept and I was standing next to them. So I gave her one. I was just trying to be helpful. She had the information about the right dose to hand but just didn’t bother to look at it. Blaming me for not giving her that information was easier. She later apologised.)
Incidentally, I didn’t tell mum what was happening to me. She never knew.
Back to the minutes of the meeting. They revealed that two carers felt that I had placed them under enormous pressure to give mum Oramorph or lorazepam which in their view, she didn’t need. The pressure was so great that ‘they’, felt unable to resist. As noted above, my ‘requests’ made them extremely anxious which allegedly stopped them from getting a professional opinion. Except one did. She phoned the person on duty. I determined that it was a night carer but I had little contact with them, other than to say hello at 8 pm and goodbye at 8am as she left. I did come downstairs occasionally if I couldn’t sleep, to see mum, and that was about it. Mum didn’t often sleep at night and had rung me a few times, once just for a chat. But she did close her eyes. If I whispered and she was awake, she’d open them. If she was asleep, she did not.
I might have asked a carer for her opinion ie., if mum needed anything. Say if her face was contorted or she looked restless. And according to one entry in the carers’ record, I once ‘suggested’ lorazepam when she was constantly moving one of her arms. That’s all. The carer agreed and the record states that she was more relaxed after that. If I had put anyone under pressure, say at 8 in the evening, I wouldn’t have stayed around until they eventually ‘relented’ and gave mum something. I needed to rest.
My impression is that mum was undermedicated. The patch didn’t work. The paracetamol wasn’t enough. I never saw anyone give her Oramorph and she rarely got an injection of morphine. I had clearly not put anyone under enough pressure. That is a joke. There was no pressure at all. No coercion. No insistence. Had the GP asked a nurse to check the amount of Oramorph left in the bottle, he might have learnt that it had not been given as often as suggested. But he didn’t check. No one did.
Some of the other claims should not have led to a safeguarding enquiry. For example, a few months earlier, my brother had ventured inside the house and must have seen a Statement of Wishes on a table. It asked that I be allowed to stay in the house after mum’s death and that no pressure be put on me to move. A very useful document at the time although a codicil would have been better. As the solicitors couldn’t find the original, written in 2009, I printed out a new statement with a current date. Alas, mum wasn’t capable of understanding, let alone signing anything by this time so I left it on the table. Mum was in bed. She wouldn’t see it. Happily, the solicitors found the original after a few days so I actually didn’t need a replacement. But brother saw the new version and noted it when speaking to the GP (source: solicitor’s letter). He would later email me to say he accepts that I did not attempt to change the will. It didn’t stop the claim ending up in the safeguarding enquiry though.
My brother also saw me, while looking through a window behind mum’s bed, gesturing to nurse Charlie to come into the other room when he started to talk about wills and looking for funeral directors. Mum was asleep but I still didn’t think it right. My brother had seen us move into another room, but his allegation just happened to miss that bit out. No mention of Charlie. As my brother is a scientist and he has good eyesight, this was not an accident.
Given his presence and keen to involve him, I asked him if he wanted to research ‘companies’, but he refused point blank. He didn’t understand that it’s best to choose a firm while you are thinking clearly as opposed to feeling shocked and numb. You also need to know which number to ring. I did not refer to ‘undertakers’ as my brother alleged. But if you want to portray someone in a negative light, then that’s a good word to use. Charlie heard him say, ‘they don’t take advance bookings’. Indeed they don’t. Anyway, there’s no mention in the report of Charlie starting the conversation and me asking to move away from mum’s bed. Incidentally, the next day, two DNs came by for something and talked of mum’s imminent passing within 1 meter of her head.
I should add here that I did ask Charlie if I had to inform ‘them’ that mum had a pacemaker. He said yes and I think he offered a reason. Brother is cited as hearing me talk of ‘ripping’ it out but I wouldn’t have used a word like that. Charlie did but he wasn’t asked by those investigating me. Suffice to say, my asking about ‘ripping out’ the pacemaker was included in the meeting as another example of my inappropriate behaviour.
From the minutes of the meeting, I also learnt I was making video nasties. No, they were just bad. I had tried to learn how to use my Ipad and had managed to record 4 very short videos featuring my mum. We discussed her exercises, her tea, her breakfast and the massaging mattress. However, someone insisted that I had filmed my mother while asking if I was cruel to her. This suggests that another carer was passing info to my brother. I did use the word cruel once (in April) but it was a joke after I had spent a couple of hours at night cleaning her and the bed after an accident. The carer knew as she took the soiled sheets to the laundrette. Mum and I got on and she was happy I was around. She even told a social worker and other carers. Still, during the meeting the context was ignored, what I had said was embellished and it became a part of the report. As evidence of possible emotional abuse.
Also from the minutes. It was apparently wrong to ring 999 when mum fell in the toilet and the carer didn’t know what to do, 111, when asked to by the district nurse and the Princess Alice Hospice when they promoted their homecare and I asked how one goes about getting that. The social worker decided that my stories did not always provide consistent information, thus resulting in inappropriate advice. Well, they wouldn’t be consistent as they were all about different topics. And I don’t think 999 and 111 gave inappropriate advice. Just the social workers. When mum fell, 999 sent an ambulance to pick her up. I didn’t insist they also take her to hospital (why should I?).
The investigation began a few hours after I was told about it by my GP. He didn’t give me any details of what I was being accused or a chance to go through the allegations. It was all rather vague. I had to engage a solicitor to get the information. It was all hearsay and untrue. I paid these carers. Feel free to accuse me of stupidity.
The response from the care agency was interesting. At the meeting, they claimed mum had no inhalers, when she did. They told me after the safeguarding meeting that they had not made any accusations. They had just ‘attended’. However, the solicitor’s letter showed they had made one allegation and the minutes of the meeting revealed they had actually made more. They lied to me and to the investigators. I contacted the person who deals with complaints and she took the agency’s side. Apparently, they had made no accusations. When the minutes of the meeting indicated otherwise, I sent her a copy. The subsequent report concluded that they had not been able to establish who, if any, might have felt under pressure. Still, the private carers would not have rung the agency. And the notes revealed at least one contact with on-call manager M. So they must have known who complained.
That meeting was one false allegation after another. I had apparently called 111 on the same day as the enema and mum was taken to hospital. No she wasn’t. That was four days later. Easy enough to prove. The chief DN either hadn’t read the notes or the notes were inaccurate.
Dear reader. You should know that when mum had no more money to fund her 8-8 care, I suggested to wealthy brother that we go halves. He refused, agreeing instead with the four hours a day package suggested by a social worker. This meant new carers and no one to do the shopping. I thought mum deserved better. She had no molars and could therefore eat only very soft food. Like fresh fish, boiled eggs, some fruits, porridge and a muffin. Seeing the panic on mum’s face, I promised to pay for everything she needed. And that’s what I did. Double care during the day at the end, plus a night carer. And I knew as mum had so little income that I would not get anything back until we sold the house. (When I had found a suitable home that I had not been able to find in all the years I had been looking.) Total costs so far, ie also dealing with funeral and other post-death debts, £80000 plus. I made the decision because I loved my mother. She had been my carer since I was a young child and got me through many dark periods of severe ill-health. When she became too frail to look after me, I did what I could for her, finding carers, doing night shifts and much more, especially during the last 18 months of her life.
When she died, all of those who cared for her left. One was traumatized and said she’d never work as a carer again. The other stayed a while to help me tidy up but then noted something about a court case which she didn’t want to get involved with. My own carer, married to the latter, resigned a few days later. No reason given. Was he also afraid of a court case that I knew nothing about? In a nutshell, I was suddenly on my own and for a time, had to get my food myself. It was a real challenge and basically unsafe.
As many who read my blogs know, I have great difficulties walking and the exertion makes me dizzy. Not a good thing when you have severe osteoporosis and need to avoid falls. Plus my disability is worsening which is not unusual after a bereavement. But this was not just a bereavement I was dealing with. There was slander, character assassination etc.
I continued to clear up the house but my muscles couldn’t handle it. Within a few days on my own, I’d trapped a nerve. And I felt absolutely exhausted.
The funeral was short and simple. What mum would have wanted. But I realised I’d probably never see my brother again. I had told him that we could proceed as co-executors if he’d write the GP a letter to note he might have misheard or misunderstood, but he refused.
My brother had proved to be very persuasive in his chats to the GP, social workers etc. I hadn’t. As for my apparent pressuring, those who didn’t want to do something weren’t influenced by anything I requested. Thus I failed to get Social Services to re-assess mum in 2020 (as noted above, it took a man from the council to get that), or the NHS to pay for her care as they had promised. And without the same man, I wouldn’t have received direct payments, applied for and granted just before mum died.
Finally, the matter of my rudeness to the DNs. Someone who witnessed almost everything I did told me that I occasionally raised my voice as I fought for my mum. I did my best. In my view, the authorities had and still have incomplete and inaccurate information. That is one reason they didn’t realise that the allegations were absurd.
Sticks and stones may hurt your bones but words can do immeasurable harm. QED.
PS. Apologies for any typos. Vision is not getting any better.
Epilogue
I have a new carer and am rather enjoying the quiet after the last hectic years. Both the NHS and social services eventually paid small sums towards mum’s care. None of the investigations completed to date checked factual information e.g. hospital discharge notes, which would have identified inaccuracies in the reports. However, I did learn that the DN had not recorded that I’d told her about mum’s pain. Neither had the nurse who rang the next day. I thought that most odd.
In my view, the safeguarding investigation was a waste of time and resources. All I’ve read in the documents are untruths and distortions. And that is apparently acceptable to GPs and social services, which is a depressing thought. I also lost my carer and solicitor because of the conflict. As for professionalism, how can you respect nurses who ignore someone’s pain and don’t restrict their reporting to the GP to medical matters. Why the gossip in medical records? Patients are allowed to see them.
Not all people were as unkind as the DNs and Social Workers. Mum’s old solicitor, now retired, rang me to offer her condolences. When I told her about the safeguarding enquiry, she responded by saying that everyone who knew us was aware that I left the medications to the carers. Indeed. No one could have seen me giving mum Oramorph or lorazepam. And no one would have heard me insist that they give it. There is also no record in the drugs chart showing I gave mum anything. There was no smoke. No fire. Not even a match.
Updated 21 August. Earlier versions may have read better. However, someone close wanted more facts. I have added a few details but decided not to cover all the accusations. Some are very hurtful. Some plain silly. But I hope that there is enough in this blog to get a sense of what happened.
Update 28 August. Yesterday, I had a virtual meeting with the two people who handled my complaint about the nurses. I was able to ask about the missing information in their notes and discuss some of the many ‘errors’. I also discovered that like the other parties involved, they too had had contact with my brother. In contrast, they didn’t know that I was disabled and that I wasn’t involved in the administration of drugs (where on earth did that come from)? Perhaps more significantly, they didn’t know that I had paid for all mum’s care after January 2020. Still, the notes mentioned that I was upstairs in bed when I was supposedly putting pressure on the night carers so that’s something. They can’t prove it but it’s a remark that supports my version of events.
Finally, I want to flag up a few entries in the report which cited a doctor (or two) who gave their opinions about my personality to the DNs. None of the comments indicated that they knew me. What they reported had not happened. There was also a view from someone from the RRRT. (They provided the OTs and a physiotherapist). I had virtually no contact with any of them yet they apparently knew all about my state of mind. Their comments came across like more village gossip but there is a rule for doctors that they don’t breach patient confidentiality, and at least one had. (The readers of the report wouldn’t have known that it wasn’t true). What had I done to deserve someone breaking the law? What had I done to trigger such vilification?
All this began with my brother informing various parties about his ‘concerns’. These were not discussed with me except for one, namely, the apparent pressure on carers to administer Oramorph and lorazepam when they felt she didn’t need them. I told him at the time that we, meaning the team, would try and provide whatever mum needed. What else could I have said? Alas, it didn’t reassure him.
Words. Words that undermined the care of my mother during her last days and caused me distress. Words that misled and distorted. Words that beg the question: why?
Update September. A FOI request identified one doctor cited in the DN notes as my GP. He rang me and denied that he had said what had been recorded. However, he has not asked that it be corrected and send the new version to me.
The other ‘Dr’ was apparently not a physician and refused to give permission for the Trust to name him. So I don’t know at the moment who it was who lied to the DNs.
He lied in a way a bully does. Used the language we expect from bullies. Was he ‘influenced’ by a third party? We shall see. The next step is the ICO. It’s getting interesting.
Update. September 28.
Just as I thought things couldn’t get any worse, I received a copy of the safeguarding notes kept by the GP. According to the entries, I not only insisted carers give mum Oramorph when she didn’t need it, but told them when and the amount. Not that I knew anything about dosages etc. It didn’t happen.
I also learnt that the prep for the safeguarding investigation had begun weeks before I knew about it. And there were more suggestions of mischief on my part. Thus one entry related how I woke mum one night and asked her if she was in pain. Not that it’s easy to wake mum when she is asleep, as opposed to resting with her eyes closed but hey. Apparently, mum ‘gesticulated’ something, as a result of which I insisted that private carer M give her Oramorph. And if she didn’t, I would. Except I wouldn’t have. I didn’t know where the Oramorph was kept, how to administer it and I have poor fine motor control so it would have been completely irresponsible. The notes recorded that M administered it so at least mum got the right amount. The next day, I talked to M as normal and there was no evidence of anything out of the ordinary. She had been busy working on her University project. All had been quiet. It doesn’t add up.
In essence, the meeting on the 13th dealt with activities which fall under the heading of elder abuse. The GP’s records expanded on the information detailed in the other reports but underline the abuse element better. This includes the claim that I had apparently filmed mum asking if she thought I was cruel, informing her that I was being investigated. There is no such video. As noted above, I kept the investigation from her. I once joked about me being cruel but that was in April. The example in the record linked the comment to the enquiry (tell me if I’m cruel as I’m being investigated). But reader, recall that I didn’t know about the investigation until mid May. To emphasize that I was possibly guilty of abuse, a good reason for a safeguarding enquiry, someone reported that the filming occurred (in May) when mum was vulnerable and might have felt intimidated. The conversation was thus deemed inappropriate. Except, as I mentioned earlier, the information lacked context and the little matter of the incorrect time line. And they didn’t know mum. If she had not wanted to be filmed, she would have let me know. Even a few days before her death, she was quite capable of making her wishes clear.
Something else which was new to me was that the various parties had considered contacting the police. They didn’t which is a pity as the police would have done the basic checks and realised the claims had one thing/person in common. And that the claims were untrue and vexatious. One or more were wasting their time.
When I think back to all those allegations from carers, I could kick myself. I paid them much more than the standard £15 per hour. I had no idea while mum was alive that some were gossiping to third parties and that this would support the main allegation that triggered the safeguarding investigation, (ie, ‘pressuring’ them to give drugs which were not required and changing the dosage which is a criminal act). To emphasize, I paid people to deal with medication and personal care. I focused on finance and repair of property. But if mum had told me that she had pain and a carer was there, I would have passed on what mum said. And that is all. If they were ok with it, so was I. As long as she was not screaming or crying, which she wasn’t in the last days of her life, there were no arguments. No conflicts. If there was tension about medication, I didn’t pick up on it.
Why me? I suspect that the DNs realised that they had not responded appropriately to the three reports of pain and that the untruths in their records would help them cover it up. Hence it wasn’t dealt with when I complained. Still, it’s been hard to accept that perhaps the private carers had colluded with my brother when he concocted an absurd and illogical story. Both carers had seemed totally baffled when I got the phone call about the enquiry and my supposed meddling with medications. Truly worth an Oscar.
Would I pay the costs for care again knowing what the consequences for me would be? Yes. Mum remained in her home, surrounded by the people she knew, and able to eat what she wanted, when she wanted. She died peacefully. With me beside her.
December 2020. It is possible that mum died of covid19. That is where the high temperature may have come from. And it would explain the odd breathing which was not like the type associated with the ‘normal’ dying process. Moreover, I have antibodies and given I shielded, may have got it from her. As no one came those last days, no one tested her. We shall never know.
Update. It appears, after much reading of records and talking to various people, that the safeguarding enquiry involved a number of individuals. One has already admitted she lied and personally apologised. Another did not wish to confirm her statement to the agency. The only named individuals were the two main carers and my brother.
There were many carers and other people involved with mum. To have only three who on multiple occasions schemed to cause harm is giving me back some confidence. The vast majority of people whom I met just did their work. They were generally decent and professional. We got on. The two carers who schemed didn’t just try to damage me; their activities meant mum received no end of life care and support during her final days and the signing of her death certificate was delayed. Thank goodness that I had the coroner on my side. And I’m glad mum never knew just what the two were up to. She would have been very upset.
2021 is going to be much better for my soul. And mum can now truly rest in peace. I know who did what. I will probably never know why. Suffice to say, there are individuals who are greedy and selfish at times in their life. Who act for personal gain when they see an opportunity. And a few are groomed. Many have regrets and apologise eventually. I shall focus on the decent. I advise you, dear reader, to do the same.
Answers
I began a legal case when two of the last reports I received identified ‘M’ as the primary source. Same allegations described in three separate documents. One named her. They hadn’t used enough ink to hide her identity. I used the law because I am opposed to those who lie about everything that matters. You can tell a person that their behind doesn’t look big in a skimpy dress. But you can’t tell others that someone has done anything illegal when they haven’t, or that they abused a loved one when they did the opposite. I don’t like people who spread fake information for their own ends. To make them feel good. If you feel psychologically uncomfortable, get therapy. Don’t manipulate those around you with alternative facts. It undermines a decent society. Just look over the pond. In my view, we must all be pro-active in dealing with those who deliberately mislead and challenge those who tell untruths about our fellow men. And viruses. And the EU. You get the idea. For all our sakes, fight for justice and hold those who lie to account.
Back to my own battle. I clearly had a mistaken view of ‘M’. In the letter from her lawyer which I received today, I learnt that she believed her communication with sibling was justified. She may not have made the worst allegations and sibling probably embroidered a bit, (no details of what she said), but both knew I was innocent. ‘M’ breached my privacy, and both she and sibling were unfair, unkind (as well as well as untruthful.) As for the notion that I put ‘M’ under pressure, I remain to be informed exactly how I did that. It’s not easy if you are sleeping. Even if I popped my head round the corner at 4 when getting some water, it was only to see if all was ok. I didn’t hang around. And I made no one else feel anxious or afraid of losing their job. I knew sibling has issues. But ‘M’ did not. I still find it hard to accept her as a source.
Before I received the last report, I emailed her to thank her. I also wrote some other things. I asked how she was. I informed her what was happening in my life. She had been part of the family for over two years after all. Today, her lawyer described this as harassment. So don’t give people plants or email them to thank them. Some can’t cope.
Problem remains that I am still confronted with unhelpful attitudes eg by new gp, who obviously knows of the reputation created by sibling so the enquiry continues to haunt me. (And as there were several gps involved and they also work in other practices, this is hard to escape.) Mud sticks. Lawyers don’t seem to know that.
Still, I have some answers to my questions and a better view of who did what. I’m expecting more documents with detailed information but basically, I can’t imagine that another individual played a significant role.
I may not have held those who lied to account, yet, but my efforts have achieved something. Thus the various people involved in the safeguarding enquiry now accept the need to do some basic checks. I’ve had apologies in person and in writing. And I’m currently working with an Ombudsman to right a few more wrongs.
PS. ‘M’s lawyer reads this blog. She copied it to mine. She didn’t understand why I write them though. Well, in my case, it’s a means of shining a light on dark places. The safeguarding enquiry and reports just noted one side of the story. The one with the ‘inaccuracies’. The above gives a fairer view.
It may be a pain and I’d rather do almost anything else but we have to fight for the truth sometimes. And that is what I’m doing. You’d think a lawyer might understand that.
2021
I am a slow thinker. Hence it has only just occurred to me that no one at the meeting had asked themselves why I allegedly wanted carers to give mum Oramorph when not required, and at a different dose to that prescribed by the GP. (There are no details as to whether this was higher or lower than the prescribed amount). Let’s think logically. If higher, the effect would have been to make a sleepy mum more sleepy. I looked up the effects in the BNF and I think that’s it. That and becoming more constipated. I’ve asked for the drug chart but from what I have read, it’s hard to kill anyone with a small bottle of Oramorph. (I saw it when it arrived and it was very small.)
In reality, I wanted mum to be more awake. To talk to her. Be with her. But it was six days before her passing and she was asleep most of the time. In short, I would not have benefited from increasing the dose and not much would have changed for mum.
If I’d asked the carer to give a lower dose, I doubt that mum would have been less sleepy. And if she had been in pain, a carer who denied her the prescribed pain-killing medication would simply have increased her suffering. But as discussed above, it didn’t happen. The allegations were fabricated. Concocted by someone malicious who didn’t know much about Oramorph and didn’t have a copy of a BNF. Who didn’t think logically and basically, didn’t care as much as I did about my mum.
Last thought. Had I been so irrational as suggested, it should alerted my GP to a possible breakdown. He should have examined me and if confirmed, referred me to the appropriate professional. But he did nothing except organise that meeting. On the basis of hearsay. And that saddens me.
A wobbly tulip from Amsterdam. 