The latest twist in the workings of Southern Health. Seriously wearing. I felt so low today I went to bed this afternoon. The final report into LB’s death wasn’t completed as expected on Tuesday. It’s been delayed by a further two weeks because they’ve decided to allow the staff to comment, directly to Verita, on the draft. We only know this because I contacted the investigators today. Southern Health don’t keep us informed of much. What do we matter?
I’ve lost track of the shifting positions, inconsistencies and duplicity they’ve demonstrated since LB died. Since their investigation began on October 1. The investigation was to take 60 days but as they’re such a bunch of muppets, nothing was put in place in advance to start it on time. They then faffed and fluffed for six weeks before handing it over to an independent organisation in the middle of November (around day 46).
The final report is now due on February 21st (with no guarantee we’ll receive a copy). That’s 144 days since the investigation started. 232 days since LB died.
Until this report is finalised, it can’t be sent to the coroner. Until the coroner gets the report (or the Sunshine Southern Summary version) he can’t make any decisions about the inquest. An inquest, for all of you lucky enough never to have been pitched into this space, is a thing of complete and utter dread. For so many reasons. To have it delayed, through such unnecessary and inhumane actions, is unforgivable.
I’m sure any regular reader must know, by what happened to LB and the findings of the CQC investigation, Southern Health do not come out well on any count. I suppose that’s why we’re being subjected to such extreme, desperate, bullying actions.
Do I have to say again that our beautiful, talented, hilarious and completely defenceless dude died under the care of this bunch of bastards? The worst fear of any parent, made worse, so much worse, because we thought he was in safe hands. The NHS. In the care of at least four staff (including two learning disability nurses) 24 hours a day. With five patients to look after. “Supported” by a team consisting of a psychiatrist, psychologists, an OT, a charge nurse, an essential life planner, a unit manager, some herb who was at every community team meeting I attended but never said his role (he took blood) and a “care” manager. This wasn’t an understaffed, over populated, under-resourced ward. This was (or should have been) fucking royalty.
Once LB entered that unit, the staff took the hardline he was an adult. Despite their ridiculous questionnaires pegging him at a “mental age of 10”. Because he was deemed to be ‘an adult’ we were excluded. Our knowledge, love and understanding of him, built up so intensely, over 18 years, was irrelevant. They knew better.
But of course they didn’t. How could they?
How could they?