i am trying not to be emotional about all of this. although i am allowed to be emotional that my father isnt here, right? the way he died, how he died, is still churning away, i push the feelings away and deal with practicality after practicality, i arranged his funeral which was one of the most difficult things, i have kept three complaints going, which feels like rubbing my head on a cheese grater. when will i have…
well, i managed to get through the meeting with social services. there were two people there and a woman taking notes. i also took notes. i think that they had intended to wrap it up there and then, and push the whole awkwardly inconveniant episode behind them. awkwardly inconveniant being my father's end of life care or lack of, being undermedicated when dying in pain, lack of nursing and more.
they began with…
an hour or go til this meeting is over with. social services outcome of investigation into complaint made about G.L.W., my father. not a number, old person, dying person, dead person, non-person, doesnt matter anymore person.
will take notes. wont respond immediately. my mantra. feel pathetically useless, wondering why i am doing this, no, i know why, he was treated so bloody badly and he is my daddy...was. is.
*sigh…
i am being positively pessimistic as my meeting with social services draws closer. it is tomorrow and is the first step of my tiny complaint. i have complained to social services about the nursing home that my father died in, i have complained to the nursing home that likes to ignore me, to my mp, to the care quality commission. and those complaints are just to do with my father dying in agony, not having morphine administered…
