“LB, your new social worker’s coming to visit me today. Then she’s coming to meet you at school.”
“She’s already been Mum.”
“Eh? Wha?”
“She’s already been Mum.”
“Oh. What did you talk about?”
“Being sociable Mum.”
“Oh. Ok. Can you remember her name?”
“Anita Mum.”
“Ah, that’s your current social worker. You are going to meet your adult social worker today.”
“Adult Mum?”
“Yes, the one who will be your social worker when you’re an adult.”
“She’s already been Mum.”
“No, that was Anita. You’ll meet the new one today.”
“I don’t want to meet the social worker Mum. I don’t even know her. She’s probably racist Mum. And… And.. she’s on placement Mum. She’s not coming to school.”
“Don’t be silly LB. You’ve got to meet her today. She’s your new social worker.”
“The law’s the law Mum. She’s not coming back to school.”
Tag Archives: social care
The holiday
“Hey, LB. (Social care agency) rang today…”
“Yes Mum.”
“They said they’ve got a great holiday you can go on in the Summer. Five days at an activity centre with a few young people.”
“No Mum. I don’t want to go Mum.”
“Ahh.. it will be fab. Loads of fun and activities. You love the holidays you go on with school…”
“Who is it with Mum?”
“(Social care agency).”
“No Mum. I don’t want to go Mum.”
“Why not?”
“It will just be misery Mum. It will just be a bucket of misery Mum.”
“Well, Sue from (social care agency) is coming round in a couple of weeks to tell us some more about it.”
“I don’t want to go Mum. It will be misery, Mum. I just like lorries Mum. Irish lorries Mum.”
“Well, let’s have a bit of a think about it when we meet up with Sue.”
“I don’t want to go Mum.”
Benefit cheaters
The whole business of who should inform people of the benefits, support and services they may be entitled to has been playing on my mind for the last few weeks. In some work I’m doing, involving interviews with people with long term conditions, there are consistent reports of people not knowing. Not knowing they were entitled to x, y or z.
Similarly, I was surprised to be told by mates that LB has been entitled to Employment and Support Allowance since he was 16. Eh? Wha? Are you sure?? How do you know? (Other parents told them). How could I not know?
I cast my mind back over all the meetings I’ve had with various profs over the past year or so:
- There was that DWP woman who travelled 100 miles to see for herself whether LB could manage his own finances.
- Two annual reviews with a Connexion worker and a social worker in attendance, as well as school staff.
- At least three meetings with a transition social worker (to increase LB’s care package (from 4 hours a month, to 4 hours a week and discuss the future).
- The Direct Payments police.
- School nurse, paediatric neurologist, adult neurologist, GP, local authority funded care agency… and so on.
Now I ain’t suggesting it is the responsibility of any one of the above to inform us of benefits. I’m just surprised that given the huge layers of bureaucracy and meetings that having a child like LB involves, we could get to him being over 17 without a mention of ESA.
On Twitter yesterday, a couple of people said there are welfare rights experts based in CABs (currently under threat from government cuts). But it boils down to the old saying; you don’t know what you don’t know. I didn’t know I should contact the CAB at this point (or a year ago). And, given the amount of time I have spent in meetings like the ones listed above, I suppose I didn’t think I needed to.
For me, there is an opaqueness to the benefit system in this country. So much information seems to be passed on from parent to parent, disabled person to disabled person, support group to members, rather than through ‘official’ channels. I’ve had a shufty at the government website providing information about ESA and other benefits. Reading the information, it wouldn’t have crossed my mind that LB is eligible. A quick look at the other benefits/allowances left me as much in the dark. It took seconds to be told about ESA, by mates, and to be emailed the number I then rang to organise it. Seconds.
Makes me wonder, really, who is doing the cheating?
The carer’s assessment
Real time blogging these days. Freshly hatched happenings. The carer’s assessment which took place this morning. My first ever carer’s assessment – shame on you social services – after 13/14 years of social/health care dealings.
The cone of shame
Today I’m wearing the cone of shame. And it’s only 10.15am.
The direct payments police came round to ‘help’ me with my returns.
Now what does this mean? Direct payments? Returns? This… for those of you who are not familiar with this area, is about our CARE PACKAGE. LB gets funding to cover the combination of services he is assessed to need. So we get this funding in a dedicated bank account, use it to pay for someone to look after LB, and have to fill in forms accounting for what is spent, the interest earned and so on.
This is the bit I’ve failed on.
And this is why I’ve spent the last hour sitting at the kitchen table while some man in a suit has filled in the forms for me, while glaring LOSER at me every few seconds. After highlighting the bits I have to sign with an enormous yellow highlighter pen AND a big biro cross, we are done.
“Oh, just one more thing Sarasiobhan, you loser”, he said. “You need to take out employer liability insurance. It’s £99 a year”. Another form. Another swipe with the highlighter pen AND a big biro cross.
It’s over.
I walk him to the door. “You do realise our care package is for four hours care a month?”
“Yes,” he replied.
“That is £40 a month.”
“Yes,” he said, and walked over to his car.
“Ok”.
I shut the door and go to file the paperwork neatly.
Postscript: I made that last sentence up.


