No Voice Unheard
I find myself both chuckling and fuming about the developments of today.
For the past few months, I’ve been having problems with what I thought was my throat. Two trips to the GP and two courses of antibiotics later and today I went for the hospital referral to discover the problem is with my vocal chords. Basically they’ve been damaged by wear and tear. There is a nodule on one but the doctor isn’t recommending surgery yet. Thank goodness because the surgery sounds grim and I wouldn’t be able to talk for four weeks afterwards. In the meantime, I have to do several things. Rest my voice as much as possible. Start vocal therapy. Make some changes to my diet. I’ve also arranged a consultation with a herbalist. Hopefully, all these interventions will prevent the need to operate.
The hardest part will be resting my voice. From being a little boy with as the professionals believed “no speech”, Steven is now talking all day long. When he wants an intense two hour music session, Steven won’t understand that I’m trying to rest my voice. He wants to sing and discuss where the Mael brothers in Sparks spend their annual holidays and where they buy their shoes. We can’t watch Cry Baby in contented silence. We have to discuss what Johnny Depp has for tea on Saturdays and why he gets tearful having a haircut. By the end of a full day of constant chat my voice is an inaudible croak.
I went straight from the hospital to the bank to meet the Customer Experience Manager. This was the latest hurdle in sorting out Steven’s accounts so they meet the OPG’s specifications. I came away no further forward. The 34 page form ended up with 33 pages struck through with ” N/A”. However, the bank still weren’t satisfied and I’m left having to make phone calls to the Court of Protection, the OPG, the DWP and all the organisations Steven has a direct debit with. The CEM told me that a Deputy account is treated like a business account, which had a certain irony because availing oneself of personalisation feels like running a full time business. I lost the will to participate when we came to the section of the 34 page form which covered the countries Steven would be doing business with!
The bottom line is that attempting to rest my clapped out vocal chords is pissing in the wind. My life is full of conversations about the colour of Adam Ant’s underpants and trying to convince a bureaucrat that my autistic son is not the head honcho of a money laundering scheme with the Cayman Islands.
You can imagine, I’m putting a lot of faith in the herbalist coming up trumps.
From → Social Care