Showing posts with label challenging behaviour foundation. Show all posts
Showing posts with label challenging behaviour foundation. Show all posts

Monday, 13 September 2021

Winterbourne View and Cawston Park: Are Failures and Deaths at Private Hospitals for Adults with Learning Disabilities the Tip of the Iceberg?

My blood ran cold when I heard about the vulnerable patients’ deaths at Cawston Park. The Challenging Behaviour Foundation emailed me and other member families of adults with learning disabilities before the story hit the news, warning us that we could find the details very distressing. I did and they were ..... but I believe the failures that lay behind these deaths are the tip of the iceberg.

You see, sadly, these failures are familiar to me.

My daughter, Chrissy, who's now 37, spent 4 years in another private hospital like Winterbourne View and Cawston Park after being repeatedly let down by inadequate support provision in the community. During her hospital stay, I reported unexplained bruising on her neck; a safeguarding investigation was launched, bringing the hospital under scrutiny. However, Chrissy’s injuries were subsequently attributed to self-injurious behaviour. I had never seen bruising on her neck before and it was difficult to understand she could have caused these injuries herself. A year later, the hospital came under fire in the press for failing all the standards set by the Care Quality Commission, including the one to prevent abuse.

The 2011 Winterbourne scandal had shone a spotlight on some of the practices that go on behind the locked doors of these hospitals but still, it seems that little has changed. What will it take?

These units are run as total institutions, similar to the long-stay hospitals that were closed during the 1980s, which was meant to herald a new era of social inclusion for people labelled as learning disabled. The resulting gap in the market provided a lucrative business opportunity and a number of independent hospitals financed by private equity companies were set up. A report commissioned by NHS England in 2014 called for an end for the system where these independent hospitals are financially incentivised to keep patients in for as long as possible. However, despite levying charges of up to £26,000 a month per patient, basic standards of good practice are proving remarkably difficult to maintain in many of these services.

Nevertheless, the hospital was Chrissy’s best chance. Despite its problems, another group of professionals at the hospital were now challenging the disempowering funding agendas and professional vested interests that were preventing Chrissy from getting the support she needed. This knowledge informed a discharge plan that provided indisputable evidence of Chrissy’s complex support needs, unclouded by funding agendas. The interventions and support Chrissy needed should have been available in her local community but they were not.

Moreover, in our experience, the poor standards in these hospitals are also reflected in care in the community. When Chrissy was ready to be discharged from hospital, Mencap and the Challenging Behaviour Foundation included her story in their Out of Sight report (Mencap, 2012). They said the Government is very clear that people with a learning disability should be supported to live in their own communities; it is difficult to understand why, when Chrissy was ready for discharge, there were so many barriers in place and we had to do so much fighting to overcome them.

Chrissy finally moved into her own home with 24-hour 2:1 domiciliary care support in 2013. It went well at first as she always had a key worker/team lead in place but, a year later, it was bought out by a big private investment company and the quality of care gradually nose-dived. Chrissy’s service was being managed remotely by managers who oversaw several services and a succession of them left. I was told by one manager who left that she felt burnt out and unsupported. She said that she couldn’t do her job effectively because she was always filling other management gaps and fire-fighting elsewhere. Staff training was minimal, communication between the office and staff working at Chrissy’s home was dire to non-existent, and morale amongst Chrissy’s support staff was very low. I reported problems to the CQC, who gave the service an overall ‘good’ standard of care. Having once worked as an ‘expert by experience’ with the CQC, I knew what good care looked like and reported that my main concerns lay in two inspection areas covered – the service was neither responsive nor well-led. The inspector did not call me and there was no follow-up. I became exhausted and demoralised by trying to fill in the managerial gaps myself but was told by various health professionals and some staff who worked elsewhere as well as with Chrissy that ‘this was as good as it gets.’ Whistle-blowers raised concerns but did not feel that management had listened or taken action.

However, there was no way I could give up on Chrissy by accepting these awful standards of care and support and, thankfully, neither could the case-managing NHS commissioner. Effects on Chrissy included a long-term refusal to engage in personal care and just wanting to stay in bed. The NHS commissioner circulated Chrissy’s profile to care agencies and a local not-for-profit group of charitable enterprise got in touch. One of their managers knew Chrissy of old and had worked exceptionally well with her. This organisation now provides her care services. They have far exceeded our expectations by starting to turn things around in a few months. Chrissy’s first bath and hair wash in months was a cause for great celebration! She will always present significant challenges to services but I feel like this new service has given us our daughter back.

Tuesday, 25 March 2014

Update on Winterbourne View Out of Sight Campaign

Last week I went to Westminster with other families whose loved ones with learning disabilities & challenging behaviour have been supported by Mencap and the Challenging Behaviour Foundation. We told our stories to Norman Lamb MP, Minister for Care.

Another parent has kindly agreed for me to share her blog about the meeting. Please read & support us.

http://www.mencap.org.uk/blogs/my-daughter-s-out-fight-continues

Thursday, 11 April 2013

A Special Celebration & Undiagnosed Children's Day



When Chrissy arrived during the hottest April for 100 years, I was the proudest mum in the world. I was 23 and a first-time mum. It felt like my greatest achievement ever.

My baby looked flawless and her beautiful dark eyes seemed to take in every detail of her surroundings. In her little perspex cot on the maternity ward she waved her hands around so energetically that I called her our 'air traffic controller.'

Then the dark shadows started pressing in. Thank God we can't see what lies ahead of us.....

Like many children with undiagnosed genetic conditions, Chrissy was a failure to thrive baby. She struggled to feed and gain weight, and was floppy and sleepy - but she was a mass of contradictions. Mostly she was sunny-natured, alert and content to coo and watch the world go by but, even in infancy, she had prolonged spells of inconsolable screaming, and no one knew why. The rest is history and detailed in my book: 'Bringing Up a Challenging Child.... http://www.jkp.com/catalogue/book/9781853028748

Although we now know the cause of Chrissy's problems, she still remains quite an enigma to us and to her clinicians, despite spending three years in an assessment and treatment unit. We know her chromosome disorder causes hugely variable effects but her learning disabilities are significantly worse than most people affected by 1q21.1 microdeletion, even those with a larger area of deleted genes.

So where are we 29 years on?

We have another CPA (care plan approach meeting) coming up on Monday that we never expected to have. Chrissy has now been in the unit for over three years and is ready for discharge but despite my monumental efforts to find solutions and move things forward, she is still stuck there. The Government is very clear that people with a learning disability should be supported to live in their own communities so it is difficult to understand why there are so many barriers in place. I feel like I'm stuck too. It has been left to me to drive it all, and I now spend most of my time on this. It's the same with every major transition, eg when she went into the unit I was driven to the brink of despair along with her. Not only was I in pieces over her suffering but I fought epic battles to get her into hospital. Why does it have to be like this?

Mencap are very interested in Chrissy, and are finding it hard to understand why the situation has dragged on for so long. They are incredulous about the amount of correspondence that I've had to engage in to try and understand the barriers, and to try to move things forward for Chrissy. Her case has been brought to the attention of Chris Bull MP, who is leading the Joint Improvement Programme to move people out of assessment and treatment units after Winterbourne, and Norman Lamb MP, Minister for Care, who has asked to be kept informed of progress relating to Chrissy's case.

Our experiences are echoed by this excellent article highlighting flaws in the Government's plans to move people with learning disabilities and challenging behaviour out of assessment & treatment units into community-based settings:
http://www.communitycare.co.uk/articles/10/04/2013/119078/dont-ignore-housing-in-response-to-winterbourne.htm


Chrissy's most recent (and hopefully last for now) medication change has been from the antiepileptic, Keppra, to Zonisamide. Because she had three seizures in a row after Keppra was withdrawn, Clobazam, a benzodiazepine derivative like Valium, was added to Zonisamide and Epilim. Clobazam will be withdrawn when Zonisamide is titrated up to the therapeutic dose. Chrissy is already on the maximum therapeutic dose of Epilim. I've discussed seizure control/quality of life and my fears about the effects of medication on Chrissy's mood, health and general well-being in previous posts. Clobazam's sedative effect is dragging Chrissy down. I can't wait for it to end as it breaks my heart to see another drug stealing away her personality, and sapping her energy and intellect. I have to remind myself how far she's come - she rarely has screaming outbursts now and, as the effects of her medication wear off during the day, Chrissy is her old self again. It's a delight to see her enjoying jigsaw puzzles again, a skill she excelled at as a child.



Now Chrissy is more aware, she says with increasing frequency: 'I don't want to go back to the hospital.' I have sleepless nights, guilt trips and anxiety attacks over how she must feel living in a locked ward for so long, her suffering and disorientation from the effects of different medications, what she's gone through over the years, what the future holds for her etc. Of course I can only imagine how I'd feel in her situation but, no matter how hard I try to banish those thoughts, they haunt me. It would be such a relief to see her settled again near her family where we can be more involved on a daily basis and help with her support. It's the least she deserves.

I support Unique http://www.rarechromo.co.uk/html/home.asp & I'm a SWAN blogger
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Monday, 19 November 2012


Visiting the Minister for Care in Westminster

Last week, MENCAP and the Challenging Behaviour Foundation invited me and other relatives whose children & siblings have been failed by support services to Westminster to tell Norman Lamb, Minister for Care Services, our stories. It was a great honour to be asked, and it felt good to be heard by someone with the power to change things. I felt a great sense of solidarity with the other relatives and their harrowing testimonies hardened my resolve to ensure the failings that had left Chrissy in so much torment are thoroughly investigated.

It's a relief to know that I’m not alone in feeling angry at the struggles we've faced to get Chrissy happy and settled again. I’m one of the lucky ones - Chrissy hasn't been abused by her carers and I’ve finally got my lovely daughter back. Other relatives told similar encouraging stories that show what can be achieved with the right support. Our battles have been hard-won. Learning disability services had given up on our loved ones and left us not knowing where to turn. As we spoke among ourselves, I learned that I wasn't alone in feeling guilty, as if I had been the one to let my child down.

Norman Lamb stayed beyond the time that had been agreed and said that hearing our stories was as shocking as watching the original Panorama programme about Winterbourne View. We must continue to speak out for the sake of those that have no one to speak out for them. I hope the meeting with Norman Lamb will make a difference, he'll do all he can to ensure lessons are learned, and that adults with learning disabilities are treated with as much dignity and respect as the rest of us.

http://www.mencap.org.uk/news/article/minister-wants-end-places-winterbourne-view






I am a SWAN UK (Syndromes without a Name) blogger
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Monday, 3 September 2012

Battle Weary but Making Progress


Chrissy age 9. The start of more turbulent times. Note self-inflicted scratches on face & around eyes

As we continue to marvel over Chrissy's emergence from medication-induced cognitive impairment and behavioural changes, we are looking at her future care options. Although we haven't got a discharge date yet, we're nearing the end of Chrissy's treatment but can't make firm plans until the funding dispute is resolved. A personal support package needs to be in place before Chrissy can take up any housing options that may be offered but despite the efforts of a solicitor, an ombudsman and ourselves, progress is still painfully slow.

A mum that faces similar challenges to ours said she has always tried to take a reasonable approach but feels her constant efforts to improve her disabled child’s life are an uphill battle without any action. Another parent said she was in despair as she doesn’t see any significant changes coming to ensure good, long-term care for her child. ‘I’m sick and tired of all the stress and worry, and the coping,' she says. 'I want to be heard. I’ve had enough.’

Battles can start early on when you have a child with a learning disability, particularly if the cause is unknown or the child has complex needs. My book ‘Bringing Up a Challenging Child at Home’ http://www.jkp.com/catalogue/book/9781853028748 describes my attempts to get someone to take my concerns seriously. No one ever sat me down, and took time to listen and explain anything. I was always asking ‘what’s wrong with my child?’ I felt like I was being fobbed off and became increasingly frustrated.

Eventually, it became chillingly obvious that something was wrong. Chrissy was diagnosed with epilepsy when she was 10 months old and, later, with developmental delay. She received physiotherapy, occupational therapy and speech therapy but these services were snatched away when we moved to a different area. It was our first experience of the postcode lottery but not our last - a decade later Chrissy's respite care allocation was halved when we moved to another county. I didn't know how to go about challenging these decisions but I've since learned that it's only those who shout loudest that get the help their child needs.

During Chrissy’s early school years things went relatively smoothly. She had sufficient support in lessons to help her to achieve her potential and was under the care of Great Ormond Street Hospital, who took quite an interest in her. It was only as she grew bigger and more difficult to manage that the battles began in earnest. Health professionals and Social Services seemed to write Chrissy off & wouldn't offer sufficient support. I guess no one really knew what to do and they feared that they would carry the can if something went wrong.

When Chrissy was nine doctors began prescribing anti-psychotics and sedatives to try to subdue a particularly intense outburst cycle but the episodes escalated and became more violent and prolonged than ever. Over the next four years there was one crisis after another as her SLD school struggled to cope and so did we. We were using behavioural intervention strategies but they only helped with day-to-day challenging behaviours, not with these more severe episodes.

Finally when Chrissy was 14 Ian and I snapped after she'd had several days of frenzied self-injurious outbursts while on the anti-psychotic, Haloperidol. Somehow we got her down to our local children’s ward. 'This is our daughter, Chrissy,' we told an appalled nurse,'and we're not taking her home until someone helps her.’ We had a heated discussion with hospital staff when they realised we were sticking to our guns but once they got a handle on the situation they agreed to help. I’ve described Chrissy’s transformation in just 14 days after those meds changes in previous posts. For the next few years things ran relatively smoothly again - but when her meds were withdrawn after the platelet drop, I was propelled back into the fray.

The dreaded anti-psychotics were re-introduced, and Chrissy's behaviour & quality of life deteriorated again. Her doctors wouldn't accept anti-psychotics were making things worse AGAIN, and argued instead that it was all down to her being in the 'wrong' environment for someone with autism. There were endless disputes over the right course of action to take and Chrissy was stuck in the middle. In 2008 after another awful cycle of extreme outbursts, she was given 28 days' notice of eviction from her residential care home. I fought a legal battle to give us extra time for a transition to another care home, then when that placement broke down amidst the all-too familiar backdrop of medical professionals doing nothing and citing the 'not-fit-for-autism' environment, I had to take legal action again on two separate occasions to get Chrissy into hospital for assessment and treatment.

While parents of neurotypical children face occasional set-tos our battles are never-ending and instead of stopping when they become adults, they get worse. There's always another 'concern' to address along with major ongoing issues rumbling in the background, and we go through periods of reeling from one crisis to another.

In my previous post Groundhog Day http://jgregorysharingsstories.blogspot.co.uk/2011/10/special-saturday-post-groundhog-day.html I describe how I feel like I'm continually revisiting the same issues. For example, last year's admissions and apologies from the NHS trust about making a ‘dog’s dinner’ of Chrissy’s assessments for healthcare funding, and their promises to rectify the situation with properly conducted assessments and thorough investigations have come to nothing. I"ve lost count of how many times my hopes have been raised like this. Another parent described it as like kicking a football around a triangle. You are in the centre of the triangle created by professional services and your issue just gets kicked around from corner to corner as the professionals that you go to for support pass the buck and blame each other. After going down all these frustrating routes of trying to get someone to take responsibility and action you are left back where you started to kick the football from.

Meanwhile, Chrissy's epilepsy remains unstable, and other health worries keep cropping up that leave me feeling acutely aware of the fragile balance between symptom control and quality of life. We intend to make the most of the good times while they last. That's why we're taking Chrissy on holiday to Center Parcs at the end of the month. Wish us luck!


I am a SWAN UK (Syndromes without a Name) blogger
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Friday, 10 August 2012

Dear MP.....

Please read Mencap and the Challenging Behaviour Foundation’s ‘Out of sight’ campaign report which tells the stories of James, Joe, Emmanuel, Victoria & my daughter, Chrissy http://www.mencap.org.uk/sites/default/files/documents/Out%20of%20sight%20report%20Easy%20read.pdf In the report, you hear from their families, about the terrible neglect and abuse their loved ones have experienced. Please email your MP today and ask them to take action to make sure this never happens again http://bit.ly/NVtsBS

One of the worst cases in the report is that of 38-year-old James, who has spent five years at an assessment and treatment unit located 150 miles from his home. In this time, James has experienced sexual and physical abuse by other patients, numerous unexplained injuries, neglect by staff and has had multiple medical complaints left untreated. James’ parents have been desperately fighting to have their son moved to a service nearer to home.

Since the BBC’s ‘Panorama’ exposed abuse at the Winterbourne View assessment and treatment centre, last year, Mencap and the Challenging Behaviour Foundation have received 260 reports from families about abuse and neglect of people with a learning disability in similar services.

There are currently hundreds of people with a learning disability in assessment and treatment units like Winterbourne View, and other similar services. Many of these are located hundreds of miles from people’s homes, where they are at particular risk of neglect and abuse. We're lucky, we fought tooth and nail to get Chrissy placed in an assessment and treatment unit only a 30 minute drive from our home, and she visits us every weekend - but until recently service fell far short of expectations. Worse still, commissioners failed to follow up on her progress, ignored communications and did not attend care planning meetings. I've had to take numerous steps force them to take responsibility for meeting Chrissy's complex healthcare needs. A significant contributing factor is a four-year Ordinary Residence funding dispute between the NHS and local authority.

While these units were developed to provide short-stay, specialist treatment for people with a learning disability who have experienced a crisis, in reality, over half (53%) of patients remain for two years or more and nearly a third (31%) stay for more than five years. Assessment and treatment units have been described as “dumping grounds” by learning disability experts. Chrissy has been at her unit for over two-and-a-half years and is nearing the end of her treatment but, despite her complex needs and the Challenging Behaviour Foundation's assertion that it can take 12-18 months to find places in the community for someone like Chrissy, commissioners refuse to start planning her discharge and have repeatedly broken promises. I have had to take on care management responsibility and drive every aspect of Chrissy's care while the NHS commissioners who pay for her treatment turned their backs on her.

Since a change in leadership the hospital are finally doing everything I wanted them to do for Chrissy in the first place, so I DO see the need for assessment and treatment units in crisis situations like the one Chrissy was in but they need to be as Mencap and the Challenging Behaviour Foundation describe, and subject to closer scrutiny by outside services, especially responsible commissioners. The pathways to transition patients into these units need to be far better managed too. After two traumatic residential placement breakdowns, we had to force the NHS trust's hand to get Chrissy into a local unit - they wanted to send her 65 miles away to a unit near Gatwick that had a bed-blocking problem and could give no definite admission dates. They are currently funding Chrissy's place at the assessment and treatment unit on a 'without prejudice' basis.

The government must urgently address these systemic failings in the care of people with a learning disability. Please contact the Secretary of State for Health and urge him to ensure that the government’s final report on Winterbourne View commits to a strong action plan to close large, institutional-style services and develop appropriate local assessment & treatment services for people with a learning disability. What has happened to the people at Winterbourne View, and those in the ‘Out of sight’ report, must not happen to anyone else.

Please also attend an important debate secured by Tom Clarke MP on this issue. It is an end of day adjournment debate on the abuse of people with a learning disability, on Monday 3 September.

Yours sincerely.....




I am a SWAN UK (Syndromes without a Name) blogger
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Tuesday, 3 July 2012

Advocacy & Learning Disabilities: Special Saturday

Going with this week's Special Saturday theme - sharing my life with Chrissy has made me acutely aware of the unique role advocacy plays in supporting individuals with learning disabilities.

You may think that a person with learning disabilities who has a pro-active parent and/or care manager (& many don’t) may not need an advocate - but an advocate is uniquely placed to act with minimal conflict of interest. This conflict of interest issue is key to advocacy – in any situation other people will have interests that will conflict or compete with the interests of the person with a disability. Taking independence skills as an example - a parent may be over-protective and make choices for the person with learning disabilities, stifling their ability to gain independence skills. Due to funding constraints, a care manager may be reluctant to provide the necessary care support for them to gain independence skills. The vulnerable person’s relationship with an advocate is different to those with relatives or professionals in that it is a partnership built on trust and confidentiality. By identifying and minimilising any of their own interests & needs that may conflict with the person's they're supporting, an advocate supports them to put their choices into effect. The advocate does not make choices for them or have a vested interest in outcomes of granting their choices.

Being independent, an advocate is in a unique position to identify what the person’s needs are and to and try to understand what it is like to be in their shoes. An advocate’s objectivity may enable them to focus on key issues in sometimes complex and sensitive situations and take action on the vulnerable person’s behalf. Their unique awareness of the person's wishes and choices may enable them to take the initiative by creating a sense of urgency and challenging other professionals.

People with a learning disability are often portrayed as less than human & their disability can lead to low status & a devalued role in society. They may experience discrimination, neglect, exploitation or abuse. Their human and legal rights may be denied, and even where rights exist, access to ways of enforcing them may be restricted. An advocate has a unique role in supporting the person with disabilities to access and exercise these rights.

Advocacy can also play a vital role if people with learning disabilities are confronted with situations they find difficult or they feel they are not being listened to. An advocate’s role may entail supporting their advocacy partner to make choices and express their views at meetings with professionals. It could mean being on the person’s side in situations where they could be taken advantage of, or fighting for the person’s right to lead a more fulfilling life.

As well as representing a person’s interests, an effective advocate may make information, advice and support services more accessible, and lead to access to different forms of advocacy, such as a solicitor or Citizens Advice Bureau. For example, the local CAB can support the individual to get the correct benefits or the Disability Law Service may be able to advise on legal situations.

To carry out their role successfully, an advocate must understand and be committed to the values and principles of advocacy, that regardless of whether or not we have a disability, we all have the same value and rights, and should be given the same opportunities to fulfil our potential for growth and learning and lead purposeful lives.

Finally, by offering conflict-free support and being on the person’s side, an advocate may enable people with learning disabilities to transform their lives by ‘exercising choice and control,’ as recognised by the Government White Paper of 2001, ‘Valuing People.’ Ultimately, advocacy serves to promote the welfare, wellbeing and social inclusion of people with learning disabilities, to protect their human and legal rights, combat discrimination, and, overall, to improve their quality of life.


I have written this post as part of #Specialsaturday. Please join the cause by joining the facebook page - http://www.facebook.com/SpecialSaturday; following on twitter - @Specialsat and retweeting hashtag - #specialsaturday; reading and following the Special Saturday Blog - http://specialsaturdayhttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif.org/home/

I am also a SWAN UK (Syndromes without a Name) blogger this this is part of our #definenormal blogging challenge at http://www.justbringthechocolate.com/define-normal/

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Friday, 20 January 2012

Person Centred Planning

December 2011: Note rolled up sleeves - one of Chrissy's rituals

Person centred planning (PCP) is a way to support people with learning disabilities to plan how they would like to live their life as fully & independently as possible. Anyone with a learning disability can have a PCP, even if their communication is limited, as PCP is done in consultation with people who love them and know them well.

Chrissy has been in a therapeutic unit for two years and, although she's not yet ready to move on, we need to start planning her future now. The Challenging Behaviour Foundation advised that this can take 12-18 months for someone with such complex needs.

A PCP professional visited me on Wednesday and showed me an example PCP. It included gems such as 'When I sing Bohemian Rapsody watch out. I'm not singing happily - it's a sign that I'm about to lose control and I may throw something at you!'

With Chrissy, I follow my instincts, and take so many of her quirks & rituals for granted that it's difficult to convey her support needs to someone else. However, seeing the colourful detail in the example opened the flood gates. I found myself able to take the PCP professional step-by-step through Chrissy's daily routines. I explained that when Chrissy comes downstairs for breakfast she must have the larder and kitchen doors shut, lights switched on, the area around her chair cleared of any objects that she deems shouldn't be there, her two favourite drinks with two straws, a carrier bag with handles tied in a bow containing her chocolate mousse and a banana......

After all that and more, she will only eat her egg on toast, cut up, with two splodges of tomato sauce, when she's good and ready, usually when it's stone cold!

Explaining the detail of Chrissy's daily routines also helped me to gain more insights into her support needs, which I can pass on to professional carers. For example, I instinctively know when to make myself 'invisible' for Chrissy to adjust to transitions and self-calm. It may mean removing myself from view and watching silently from a safe distance, or simply avoiding eye contact and using minimal communication. When Chrissy arrives for her weekly visits home, I try to get her coat off and settle her into my routine, but the penny's dropped that she needs initial time to herself to wander freely from room to room to adjust to her new territory. She will eventually approach me and say something like: 'Mummy, I want to go on my computer.'

PCP reminded me how important carefully managed approaches are to support Chrissy effectively. The daily management aspects of her needs should be sufficiently met in a single service unit close to her family with a team of carers that know her well - but there are other considerations. Key is the proximity, skill and responsiveness of a multi-disciplinary clinical team. Failings in this area contributed to the breakdown of two residential placements, which caused her untold trauma. When it comes to 'what next?' for Chrissy, we must get it right this time.




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Friday, 2 December 2011

Small Steps - A #Special Saturday Post

Over the past few weeks Chrissy's affairs have taken precedence over everything else - but it's been worthwhile.

I had a positive meeting with her new psychiatrist & was very impressed that he'd taken the time to read this blog! He referred to incidents I'd written about & it was clear he'd researched her chromosome disorder. He was open-minded and interested in exploring causes of the more intense clusters of self-injurious behaviours for which no environmental trigger has been identified. As Chrissy had settled down after a difficult month, he decided to withdraw the last 15mg of her Topiramate while introducing Pregabalin. I don't know if that's why we had such a challenging time with her. Her last spell of horrendous behaviour coincided with Topiramate withdrawal & it was similarly intense here yesterday. Her diva-ish behaviour has been off the scale - she's been moaning, obsessive, demanding & irritable. We did have a lovely cuddle with her on the settee while we watched Come Dine With Me but had to hold both her hands the whole time, effectively handcuffing us to her. A great way of getting our individed attention! She then kicked off again later & wouldn't go to bed until after midnight.

I'm worried about how Chrissy will cope at Xmas, particularly as last year was so awful. She will obviously be here with us on Xmas Day, as she's always been, but when more of the family visit on the 28th it could be apocalyptic. Her stripping is particularly difficult to manage when there are young men & children around, as you can imagine!

Anyway, on a different note, another positive outcome came from the 1st stage of our appeal process re the long-standing funding dispute between the local authority & NHS trust. The dispute has caused a number of problems that I can't elaborate on publicly at the moment but our biggest recent concern was that no one was taking care management responsibility. We need to plan for Chrissy's discharge from hospital & the type of 'bespoke service' she needs may, according to estimates from the Challenging Behaviour Foundation, take about 12-18 months to organise. So, although she needs to stay in hospital until meds changes are completed, we need to start planning now.

At our appeal meeting the NHS trust admitted to 'horrendous' errors in the healthcare assessment process, & offered to start from scratch with a retrospective assessment. This means combing through Chrissy's records from the past three years. I was advised that to see those records, I'd have to apply to the Court of Protection for Deputyship, which puts my responsibilities for Chrissy on a more legal footing. I filled in all the forms, so I could make decisions re property as well as health & welfare, as she may end up with a home of her own. The forms are tedious & repetitive, & took me nearly a day to complete but they're done now. I'm sure it will be worth it in the long run!



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Friday, 25 November 2011

Communication - a #SpecialSaturday post

Ineffectively met communication needs are triggers for challenging behaviours. We use communication strategies akin to those suggested by The Challenging Behaviour Foundation and Jill Bradshaw at the Tizard Centre, who both kindly allowed me to use their ideas in my book 'Bringing Up a Challenging Child at Home.'

Positive statements about what a child is going to do are much clearer than telling them what they're not going to do. For example, if we say to Chrissy 'You're not going in the car, she only hears 'Chrissy' and 'car,' and gets distressed when she realises she will have to walk. The message would have been clearer to her if we'd told her what she was going to do: "Chrissy, you're going for a walk."

Abstract concepts are particularly difficult to understand. If I ask Chrissy what she's been doing that day she can't tell me. If I ask her what colour top I'm wearing, particularly if I point to it, she answers me correctly. Her verbal communication is misleading. She is able to understand simple phrases and use learned 'parrot fashion' phrases in context - called social masking.

Much of Chrissy's communication is stream of consciousness observations. She was sitting next to me earlier and looking around the room. "It's a mirror," she observed. Then answered herself with: "It certainly is." She began to list what she saw. "It's a yellow flower and trainers and brown. Home. Brilliant." *Thumbs up sign* She then turned to Ian, my husband, and asked: "You fine Ian?" "Say yes!" *Sign for yes.*

Chrissy can follow simple instructions involving up to two named objects, ie 'put your cup on the table.' Her expressive communication is limited. She can’t tell you if she feels hot, cold, hungry or sad, and will use behaviour rather than words to express her emotional needs. We use a combination of verbal, basic Makaton sign language and symbol aids to help her move through her day. Using communication strategies are crucial to help her to stay calm and they have to be adapted according to her mood. It's draining when she repeats the same question endlessly, and demands a specfic response each time - but fantastically rewarding when she deviates from her learned phrases and makes a meaningful attempt to communicate with us.




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Friday, 9 September 2011

A #Special Saturday Post - How Having a Special Needs Child has Changed My Life




I've already written extensively on here, & in my book & parent's perspective chapter about the bigger picture of how having a special needs child has changed my life. Here I'll just give you a snapshot....

As soon as she walked through the door yesterday afternoon Chrissy demanded 'mummy's computer.' She then took over my office & nicked my reading glasses. In the photo she's watching Andy Pandy, which she loves. 'Bye mummy!' she called, no doubt hoping I'd go away so she could hack into my laptop. Left to her own devices, she manages to delete programmes and generally cause cyber mayhem.

Cranky spells peppered Chrissy's stay but, just as I thought she was going to kick off, the mood passed & she became jolly & talkative. Yesterday evening, she sat on the settee, sandwiched between Ian & I, with her catalogues & cookery books spread out around her. She nagged us to 'find the girls' in her catalogues. We found pages of them. 'No GIRLS,' Chrissy pressed on querulously, bending her fingers back & twisting her hands together - a bad sign & an ideal time to try out her new big fat weighted blanket.

It did the trick (but we still don't know what sort of 'girls' she wanted).

'Tuck it my knees,' demanded The Diva (our new nickname for Chrissy). 'Make it square.' Then, when she was swaddled in it up to her chest she ordered us: 'Hold my hands.' Remembering how she likes pressure on the outside of her hands, I gripped one of them tightly.

Peace reigned at last. We even caught the last 10 minutes of Outnumbered, which kept Chrissy amused. She smiles with benign indulgence when we laugh & sometimes joins in - but I suspect she finds the sight of us funnier than the object of our mirth. She's very inquisitive & sometimes appears to be as intrigued by our behaviour as we are by hers.

Today, Chrissy kicked off because I wouldn't let her back on my laptop. She had switched it off & done something to our anti-virus software, which Ian had to reload. I videoed her screaming on the floor with one leg up in the air then replayed it to her after she'd calmed down. She watched, transfixed, but without expression. 'What's Chrissy doing?' I asked her. 'Crying,' she said matter-of-factly. So what did I learn from this exercise? Bugger all but it was worth a try. It might have made her realise how silly it was for a grown woman to have a toddler-like paddy....

Thursday, 25 August 2011

'How I'd like my Life to be' by Chrissy - A #Specialsaturday Post

A chance call from the Challenging Behaviour Foundation & a chat with two parents of other adults with complex needs have forced me to think long and hard about the journey we’ve been on with Chrissy over the past few years.

After 27 years of fighting to get Chrissy what I think she needs I’ve become entrenched in trying to sort out failings in the systems designed to support her. Am I failing Chrissy myself because I’m too exhausted and overloaded with information to think clearly anymore? It got me thinking… Have I lost sight of how she would want to live her life?

If she could speak for herself this is what I think she’d say…

Chrissy:
‘I’d like to live in my own home with all my own things around me, including my computer, my DVD’s, my foot spa, multi-coloured hairbands, books and favourite pictures. A garden that I could go and sit in on sunny days would feel very calming. I could blow bubbles and play ball out there too. I’d have my own chair and table outside with a sun umbrella for hot days so I could draw or watch my portable DVD, or sit quietly listening to the birds and looking at flowers with my favourite drink or snack in front of me. It would be fantastic if the garden was big enough for me to ride around in my trike, or close to a safe space where I could ride it with supervision. It musn't be too overlooked because I need my dignity respected when I lose control of my emotions & strip off on the lawn!

My home must be close to my family’s. I stay with them overnight once a week and would love to see them even more often, either at their home or mine for shorter visits. No one else could evict me or take my home away from me - it would be mine for as long as I needed it & furnished with my needs in mind. I wouldn't be forced to move to any more unsuitable places where there's no bath, nothing to do, or a string of strangers to care for me who don't understand my needs.

A wall-chart with removable stick-on symbols to help with my daily routine and planned activities for each day so that I'd have plenty of interesting things to do when I’m feeling up to it would be nice. I'd also like daily home-based activities available as I can’t always get out and about.

A bath with a rail so I could climb in and out more easily is a must. Showers are a definite no-no; the spray on my skin feels horrible. My body reacts to the world around me differently to most people's. Sensations that you don't notice, like a breeze blowing in my face, or sand under my feet feel very uncomfortable but broken bones & missing toenails don't seem to bother me. So you need to keep an eye out for unexplained swellings or hidden injuries. I have problems with balance & spacial awareness, & take my time walking on uneven surfaces, around obstacles or up & down steps. I can’t regulate my own body temperature well but fans on hot days & wearing gloves indoors if my hands are cold help. If I ask to wear a coat, scarf and gloves on a hot summer’s day, indulge me - they won’t stay on for long.

Sometimes I appear to have understood what's said to me but, actually, I may not have done; I need lots of time to process information. I can be helped through difficult times by having pressure applied to the backs of my hands, a cuddle, sitting with my weighted blanket on my lap or a massage. If an outburst threatens, I sometimes respond to tried & tested distraction strategies or basic sign language and symbols to de-escalate my distress. You may find it helpful to try & identify a trigger so it could be avoided or minimised in future. If I lose control, I don’t like other vulnerable learning disabled adults around to witness it & react with their own disgust, fear or anger. I can’t cope with other people’s challenging behaviour around me either. My own problems are more than enough to deal with.

Consistently applied behaviour support approaches are vital for me to remain as stable as possible, along with verbal communication, appropriate symbols and sign language. Any staffing or routine changes must be carefully planned and should only take place if they benefit me, & for no other reason. I need help to dress nicely, take care of my clothes & other possessions, shave my legs, keep my hair untangled and my teeth clean. Like most women, I lap up compliments & love to look nice. I especially need help to ensure that my diet is healthy and that my weight is kept under control because the medicines I'm on make me ravenous & food-obsessed.

On good days, I’d like enough support to go out for a walk, maybe to the local shop, or a drive to a garden centre or park. On bad days, I need space to rest undisturbed in my room, or have a good scream. If I'm hurting myself, I need to be kept as safe as possible, with carefully positioned cushions or sharp edged furniture moved. I'd need a safe area in my home, to which I can be directed or carefully moved with planned physical interventions if necessary as a last resort.

If I say I feel sick or start looking vacant or smacking my lips, look out for an epileptic seizure, & help me sit down somewhere. Even short seizures sometimes wipe me out & leave me confused & disorientated, so I may need a sleep to recover.

The local GP and learning disability team must be fully briefed about my condition and able to respond in emergencies – an appointment several weeks ahead is no good as my condition is very changeable and unpredictable. They'd need to be open-minded about what works for me as I'm extremely sensitive to many medications & they can sometimes induce rare adverse side-effects.

My senses get overloaded by any clutter around me at the table when I’m eating or doing an activity. I’m compelled to have two of just about everything from tissues to dollops of tomato sauce but cutting one slice of toast in half or ripping a tissue in two is fine. If I ask 100 times what’s for dinner, try to be patient & distract me but be firm with me, & please don't overfeed me to sedate me. Oh, just one last piece of advice for now - if you don’t make my bed covers all square and neat around me and turn my pillow (I call it ‘cushion’) over when I ask, I may shout at you and throw a strop.

Yes, I know I'm a diva but I have to be to survive in your world.'

This blog post is part of the awareness raising campaign - Special Saturday - raising awareness of people living with special needs around the globe. Please join the cause by joining the facebook page -http://www.facebook.com/SpecialSaturday Following on twitter - @Specialsat and retweeting hashtag - #specialsaturday Reading and following the Special Saturday Blog - http://specialsaturday.org/home/"> http://www.facebook.com/SpecialSaturday