Letter to Health and Disability Commission

health_buttonAs published previously, there are guidelines for complaining about and managing your care… Health and Disability Commission is one such avenue. They will advocate for you in a complaints type process. Myself and them have had a few contacts over the last year and a half. Most recently a few weeks ago where the idea was put forward of getting together a number of people with similar complaints and recording their concerns and approaching the “powers that be” collectively.

I like this idea. A LOT. The people suggesting it seem to actually listen. And care.

My heart just stopped.

There are MANY MANY people all over Wellington with similar issues. When in Christchurch last week I was bloody well astounded to hear the same stories from those poor fuckers. Four hours I spent talking with addicts and methadone victims in CHCH. Only two of them told me about people being injured or dying in earthquakes. But every single one of them had a complaint and serious issue (anger) with the methadone programme. Now known as some stupid acronym (those who read this regularly will roll their eyes fully expecting me to produce some more of my own world shatteringly clever acronyms – I will refrain, just this once – you owe me) like CORS or some shit, they are the cause of angst and stress amongst many people already suffering dislocation from society.

GOOD ONE CORS. You can thank me for reading all the works of Bruce K Alexander (RAT PARK et al) later. Saves you the bother. Copies now available at Wellington public library. Bruce has never offered me royalties. Not even jokingly. Life is not fair. Life is not for everyone.

http://www.stuff.co.nz/the-press/news/9855871/Methadone-Liquid-handcuffs

This article is eight months old.  Some things have changed. A little. Very little. Some things have even got worse.

chchc

The people at MATUA RAKI bestow the efforts of CORS to include a “strong consumer voice” in their presentation to the “ADDICTION LEADERSHIP DAY CONFERENCE”. Fuck me people. Is it just as some politically minded people were there? Or do you REALLY believe everything is coming up smelling of roses?

Piles of shit may produce good roses. One day.

(Banana skins would be a much better point from a purely horticultural view – Unfortunately this would be lost on politically wrong Wellingtonians. So, PILE OF SHIT it is.)

Without people spotting errors, spotting things wrong, complaining and changing the system…. Nothing would change. The world would still be flat.

It is broke. It needs fixing.

Telling me you have twenty years experience and therefore giving your opinion that my opinions don’t matter is just garbage. A catch 22 of pile of shit.

You have been working on something twenty years and it is still broken?

Go get another job. Honestly, you people deserve a cake.
A cake made from Double U-O Globe Number 4. Mock cream in middle 50-50 mix Psilocybin and Lysergic acid diethylamide 25. Iced with Ice (of course – chortle chortle).logo

van

Vanessa Caldwell is actually really neat. So are most of the people I have met over the last year and half of dealing with addiction. Most really do mean to make a difference with their lives, both in their capitalist job sense and for the addicted masses.

I have managed to control my obvious dislike for those with gold watches and cars with plates newer than 2010. I’ve controlled my ADHD a little. I have managed to converse well with a number of people whom will never talk to me again once they realise I am an invalids beneficiary who flies around the country for no reason what-so-ever. Just to annoy them really. Go on, ask them. They will agree whole hearted. Champagne glasses in their manicured hands.

For I have no agenda. No barrow. No income.

Imagine this, the worlds shittest blog, with its own http address and a flash name like Whale Oil. O for oar sum.

I live in a very run down block of housing corp flats. I live on the bottom floor. I get rotten walls, damp mould. I get things landing outside my window such as butts, syringe wrappers and empty pill packets. My block has eighty odd flats. There are ten people on methadone. There are three drug dealers. There are many on P. Many alcoholics. Many problems. Many gangs.

This is me.

I have a strong sense of social equity. I talk to all people the same. The judge, the politician (hey there Peter Dunne, apologise to Jacinda for my silly, yet sincere, house husband proposals next time you see her…) or the junky laying in the gutter in a recovery position with a slow respiratory rate. They all get the same respect and the same voice from me.

They will, equally, get the same ear bashing if they start quoting wrong facts and figures. They may learn, as did my politically errant in laws, that if people like me actually start arguing we are damn well sure to have enough back up facts to make the argument worth while.

What was the point of all this again?

Have I taken enough Ritalin today? God, grant me the serenity.

 

“””My Dearest [good person at Health and D Comm’]

just letting you know we have been getting nowhere rather rapidly (or slowly) with a few things. The major concern seems to be that “ADDICTION” takes precedent over all other health diagnosis. Unfortunately it has reached the stage where my client has threatened to “write a letter detailing what you c***s are doing and drive head on into oncoming cars in order to highlight what you c***s are doing to me.”

Believe it or not, I have seen this sort of thing before. I have seen people cut off programmes and maintenance regimes and end up in jail with days as they feel robbing a pharmacy and telling their story to a judge and newspaper will help change things.

It doesn’t. [look at the guy who would not get a blanket from Work and Income, so shot three of them]

What would help greatly is being listened to properly.

The staff at ADDICTION SERVICES (CCDHB) today advised my client that they could provide an advocate for him “who would have the run of the hospital” and be much better than the current advocate (me). They also said that they felt uncomfortable with me at meetings and wished him not to bring me in future.  Their basis for this is that I write a blog. If they have ANY issue with the content of my public ramblings, they could approach me and advise me that I have made an error. I am fully prepared to stand up in court and prove every single fact.

They, basically, do not like scrutiny. Nor do they like the idea of hundreds of people every day reading about them. [just to clarify this – The record was over 800. But, lately, most people just read about LORDE and leave – But then 40 individuals have looked here in six hours, half from NZ, mainly USA and Great Britain fill the remainder. They each looked at 1.8 pages (mostly the most recent post and, of course, LORDE…]  

Nor do they like the idea that there are many many more people out there whom are having the same issues but are too ham-strung to speak publicly.

Anyway, I am going to send my client your way very soon. Facts and sense seem to make no difference to these people. 


I attend meetings with my client, as official advocate, and they will not let me speak. They openly ignore me and will not make eye contact. At previous meeting I even had to intervene as one staff member became very angry and was one level below shouting at my client – even though it was her protocols that were causing her anger.

Can we meet in person, or shall we write basis of complaint and forward to you?

Sorry to trouble you. This system is broke. It needs work.“””

And, so saying, that is another ranting post from me. The last for the day. Tune back tomorrow once the mushroom cloud has cleared from your neck of the woods…

Cameron Slater (Whale Oil) has now been blocked from my phone. Honestly, dude, calm the fuck down! Might even get t-shirts printed. But that is a story for another day. My previous post about John Key being a psychopath may have got his g-string in a bundle.

This day has produced it’s headache quotient already. After going to say a quick farewell to one of my oldest junky mates, I get hit with a bunch of crap from other old junky mates. Only to do it all again tomorrow at other old junky mates funeral.

Life. It is not for everyone.

Life on the pharmacists terms is not for anyone.

Funeral today are ARO ST COMMUNITY HALL.  Old stomping ground of many a young punk style teen... Communists everywhere. Surprised property prices have not declined.

Funeral today at the ARO ST COMMUNITY HALL.
Old stomping ground of many a young punk style teen…
Communists everywhere. Surprised property prices have not declined.

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