Prime Time Heckle - The widening hole in the public accounts - carers, ideascampaign.ie

I remember when my mother died a few years back. She lived for close to four years after being diagnosed with a very aggressive form of cancer.

I had to give up work to go look after her. She had to give up work too. She was staying in rented accommodation in the middle of nowhere and suddenly found herself in a position where the rent was going to be very hard to come by. Thus began my daily visit into Limerick County Council practically every day for about 6 months. I'd found a long term empty bungalow owned by the County Council in a nearby village and wanted to move into it while we waited for a house to become available.

6 months of annoying the Council eventually resulted in us moving into the bungalow and being told that we'd not be getting a house and that my name would not be going down as one of the tenants, eventhough I was means tested to assess the rent. Being told that there'd be no house meant a death sentence for my grandfather in exile. He'd been living with my mother and had himself recently been diagnosed with prostrate cancer. The bungalow only had two bedrooms, very small at that. Whilst we would have tried to cope or make some sort of arrangement had a house been in the offing, we decided to pack my grandfather off to England, to one of his other daughters, to die. The last time I ever saw him was at Shannon airport as I packed him off, him thanking me for doing my best.

Whilst all this was going on. I applied for carer's allowance. Refused. On some days, between operations, chemo and what have you, my mother willed herself to not stay in bed and rot as was expected (she'd initially been given 3 months to live). She'd get up, go out and hop into her pride and joy, her car (she'd been trying to get a full license for close to 20 years and eventually passed the test a couple of months after being diagnosed). Despite her spirt, she just couldn't do this every day and would need my help just to do the most mundane of things. Her doctor certified her as needing my fulltime care, but because she chose not to just lie down and die, I was rejected as being eligible to receive carer's allowance. So the dole it was, with me having to say that I was in search of full time employment.

To add insult to injury, I was given two weeks to vacate the bungalow after my mother died. It took them another 14 months to house a little old lady there and it remained vacant up until they did.

The way this country treats the sick and the dying is reason enough for a bloody revolution. It's all got to do with hard cash. It's the bottom line and it's the only writing on the paper excepting the cost of red tape wastage.

An excellent idea also advertised last night - http://www.ideascampaign.ie/

where you can go and enter some ideas for economic recovery. I wonder will they be heeded though and do you get some remuneration for your idea if it's a roaring success ? Imagine the poor sod who went in there with the idea for Velco and it was nicked

A good idea though - I wonder if there's good enough feedback from it from the owners or proprietors ? You'd like to see your brainchild at least going into an incubator but preferably growing up and making the lives of others happy and better.

Then there's stillborn brainchildren, kidnapped born brainchildren, ones that need a bit of tweaking after they come out ...

Topic moved to National Politics

Hermes wrote:

I remember when my mother died a few years back. She lived for close to four years after being diagnosed with a very aggressive form of cancer.

I had to give up work to go look after her. She had to give up work too. She was staying in rented accommodation in the middle of nowhere and suddenly found herself in a position where the rent was going to be very hard to come by. Thus began my daily visit into Limerick County Council practically every day for about 6 months. I'd found a long term empty bungalow owned by the County Council in a nearby village and wanted to move into it while we waited for a house to become available.

6 months of annoying the Council eventually resulted in us moving into the bungalow and being told that we'd not be getting a house and that my name would not be going down as one of the tenants, eventhough I was means tested to assess the rent. Being told that there'd be no house meant a death sentence for my grandfather in exile. He'd been living with my mother and had himself recently been diagnosed with prostrate cancer. The bungalow only had two bedrooms, very small at that. Whilst we would have tried to cope or make some sort of arrangement had a house been in the offing, we decided to pack my grandfather off to England, to one of his other daughters, to die. The last time I ever saw him was at Shannon airport as I packed him off, him thanking me for doing my best.

Whilst all this was going on. I applied for carer's allowance. Refused. On some days, between operations, chemo and what have you, my mother willed herself to not stay in bed and rot as was expected (she'd initially been given 3 months to live). She'd get up, go out and hop into her pride and joy, her car (she'd been trying to get a full license for close to 20 years and eventually passed the test a couple of months after being diagnosed). Despite her spirt, she just couldn't do this every day and would need my help just to do the most mundane of things. Her doctor certified her as needing my fulltime care, but because she chose not to just lie down and die, I was rejected as being eligible to receive carer's allowance. So the dole it was, with me having to say that I was in search of full time employment.

To add insult to injury, I was given two weeks to vacate the bungalow after my mother died. It took them another 14 months to house a little old lady there and it remained vacant up until they did.

The way this country treats the sick and the dying is reason enough for a bloody revolution. It's all got to do with hard cash. It's the bottom line and it's the only writing on the paper excepting the cost of red tape wastage.

I'm saddened to hear of your experience Hermes but not remotely surprised. To be a sick or disabled person in this country is an appaling experience where the impact of the illness is severely componded by poverty and bureucracy and lack of compassion. Unless the person has a strong supportive family member like you or is able to fight for everything themself they get nowhere and nothing. I'll never forgive FF and the PD's for getting rid of the NRB the only state service which made any attempt to advocate for people with disabilities and to case manage their rehabilitation. 

imokyrok wrote:

Hermes wrote:

I remember when my mother died a few years back. She lived for close to four years after being diagnosed with a very aggressive form of cancer.

I had to give up work to go look after her. She had to give up work too. She was staying in rented accommodation in the middle of nowhere and suddenly found herself in a position where the rent was going to be very hard to come by. Thus began my daily visit into Limerick County Council practically every day for about 6 months. I'd found a long term empty bungalow owned by the County Council in a nearby village and wanted to move into it while we waited for a house to become available.

6 months of annoying the Council eventually resulted in us moving into the bungalow and being told that we'd not be getting a house and that my name would not be going down as one of the tenants, eventhough I was means tested to assess the rent. Being told that there'd be no house meant a death sentence for my grandfather in exile. He'd been living with my mother and had himself recently been diagnosed with prostrate cancer. The bungalow only had two bedrooms, very small at that. Whilst we would have tried to cope or make some sort of arrangement had a house been in the offing, we decided to pack my grandfather off to England, to one of his other daughters, to die. The last time I ever saw him was at Shannon airport as I packed him off, him thanking me for doing my best.

Whilst all this was going on. I applied for carer's allowance. Refused. On some days, between operations, chemo and what have you, my mother willed herself to not stay in bed and rot as was expected (she'd initially been given 3 months to live). She'd get up, go out and hop into her pride and joy, her car (she'd been trying to get a full license for close to 20 years and eventually passed the test a couple of months after being diagnosed). Despite her spirt, she just couldn't do this every day and would need my help just to do the most mundane of things. Her doctor certified her as needing my fulltime care, but because she chose not to just lie down and die, I was rejected as being eligible to receive carer's allowance. So the dole it was, with me having to say that I was in search of full time employment.

To add insult to injury, I was given two weeks to vacate the bungalow after my mother died. It took them another 14 months to house a little old lady there and it remained vacant up until they did.

The way this country treats the sick and the dying is reason enough for a bloody revolution. It's all got to do with hard cash. It's the bottom line and it's the only writing on the paper excepting the cost of red tape wastage.

I'm saddened to hear of your experience Hermes but not remotely surprised. To be a sick or disabled person in this country is an appaling experience where the impact of the illness is severely componded by poverty and bureucracy and lack of compassion. Unless the person has a strong supportive family member like you or is able to fight for everything themself they get nowhere and nothing. I'll never forgive FF and the PD's for getting rid of the NRB the only state service which made any attempt to advocate for people with disabilities and to case manage their rehabilitation.

I'm sorry the bastards made life and death so hard for you and yours Hermes, but I would disagree with you that it's all about the money. Actually it is not about money at all and never has been. 30 years ago when the country did not have a pot to piss in, services for the elderly, sick, disabled and those who cared for them were appalling, but nobody expected any more, since the aforementioned pot was not in our possession. The growth in our wealth over the last decade or two however has given lie to the idea that the lack of services were down to a lack of money. When we had money to burn the elderly, sick, disabled and those who care for them were still stiffed and now that the pot is once again missing it is the elderly, sick, disabled and those who care who are the first to be asked to sacrifice for the good of a society that has never held them in anything other than contempt.

In reality, the civil servants enjoy the power over people the current setup gives them and their political patrons. Nobody is entitled to anything and any resource allocated can be withdrawn if insufficient gratitude is not shown.

Love her or loath her, Kathy Sinnott has undeniably been the voice for these people for years now and has put together The Mallow Declaration. It is a response to the "Everything's on the Table" meme spreading from Government circles these days. Well no, everything is not on the table - no bloody way should those who never saw the fruits of the Celtic Tiger be expected to pay for its funeral.


http://machinenation.org/forum/viewtopic.php?f=31&t=1421&start=0