Well, here we go again.
Next week the Care Circus is back in town.
The latest batch of NMC hearings is about to stir its loins again and get on with the work that it was charged with handling long ago on 1 October 2008. That was only a few very short months after you died, thanks to the rubbish care that came your way, courtesy of Care UK and Lennox House so-called care home in Islington, London.
It was also a few very short months after I’d asked so many questions of Islington’s Mental Health Care of Older People team, and then Islington’s Social Services, and then the CQC (or CSCI as it was called back at the beginning of 2008), and the Coroner’s Office, and Islington’s Safeguarding of Vulnerable Adults Team, and most of all of Care UK … well, you will know how many questions I asked of them all, each and every one of them.
They don’t like answering questions, do they? Especially if those demanding but necessary questions are likely to cast a very dim and dark shadow over their (lack of) accomplishments.
Last December 2012, the NMC decided that one nurse involved in your demise should be struck off, from their register of nurses allowed to nurse in the UK. Another nurse was delivered a 3 year caution order, requiring her to be on her best behaviour.
Next week, 15 to 19 April 2013, the Circus is back in town. Fifteen months after the NMC hearings first started, looking in depth at the circumstances surrounding your rapid decline, within 10 days of arrival in that so-called care home, Lennox House, and your admission to hospital in a diabetic coma. You died 3 weeks later.
The final 2 cases, still waiting in the wings, are to be dealt with by the NMC next week.
One case is that of the care home manager, who is mid-way through an interim 9 months suspension order, placed to allow time for her to seek permission for a Judicial Review in the High Court, of the NMC decisions thus far. The High Court refused permission to seek a Judicial Review.
The clowns will all be wearing their costumes. Their faces will all be heavily disguised beneath the cake of their make-up. They will all have their props to support them. Their scripts will all have been written, re-written and then written again. Edited, heavily edited, and then edited again.
You weren’t allowed to write a script of your own, were you? Let alone edit it.
The script of your final years, months and weeks of your life was snatched from you. Grabbed by thugs. The uncaring, unqualified, untrained, unmonitored, unsupervised, unsuitable thugs who were charged with the most basic and fairly simple duty of looking after you.
Next week, they will still be wearing their masks, their costumes and their heavy make-up.
As they will continue to do year after year. Uncaring as always. Unkind in their presentation thus far. Unwilling to admit that they failed miserably in their duty of care to you, for you and about you. They didn’t care enough to care.
The chance to wear your dresses, your gentle make-up and to present your smiling face to the world was taken from you. By the thugs of care. The thieves of care. The robbers of care.