Love on the NHS (32 page)

Had the pubs and clubs Luke and Martin tried not had large screen TVs broadcasting sports and music videos - were there any that did not these days? - nor DJs, the two may have had more luck. There were some places that had a band but they were generally unlistenable - and besides, any bar that offered something special was packed to the hilt and impossible to drink in. Luke also wondered why pubs always had to have such a macho culture - had he owned one he would have got a harpist in or a violin player; maybe even a little stage with amateur plays being performed.

If people were clustered in a little group of happy, smiling faces it frightened Luke away. He might ruin their good humour and incur their wrath. He had done so on many occasions in the past. All it took was adopting a socially unaccepted facial expression or being too forthright or too hesitant. Many of these factors were out of his control. Shortness was another attribute that played on Luke's mind. At five feet seven he was shorter than many of the men who won women's hearts. He had noticed that almost all the spoiled rich boys from Saltingham, the only affluent area of Woecaster, were six feet high and chiselled like Greek statues. Like so many people from a poorer background Luke had sacrificed potential height to his penury.

Martin had no flair for introducing Luke to people and indeed did not want to. He was quite content to talk to Luke about how Luke could improve his social skills yet would not do what he was actually paid to - provide moral support. It is a regrettable fact that many people supporting people, whether the people they are supporting are disabled, ill or just in need of a helping hand - can not appreciate how much support that person needs. It is often the case that the support worker will simply encourage the person to be more like an ordinary person; pester them to change how they live in some way, as though it is as easy to get what you want by simply wishing it badly. When Martin told Luke his love for Jolly had been inappropriate and that he would teach Luke how to find women correctly, it was the last straw. Who was he to judge Luke? And all his previous claims had been pure public relations. He was a typical Woecastrian: smooth talking but lacking in action. Luke could not bear the man anymore, laughing at him all the way to the bank. After two months of employment, he fired him.

Feeling himself wilting he needed stimulation. Luke felt he would wither to dust. Perhaps college would provide him with what he needed. His counsellor had made him reconsider the idea in a whole new light. If he could not be a lover he might make a successful career. He decided if he was going to go to college he first needed to test whether he could handle being around people. It would probably be best achieved by - and he inwardly groaned to think of it! -  joining an evening class or activity group. His social worker Doug, aware Luke was dabbling in the arts, on one of his bimonthly visits brought a leaflet for an arts centre in Hardock.

Luke's first impression was horror. Hardock was an unsafe town. Statistically It had one of the lowest life expectancies in the UK and it did not offer much else either - except high unemployment and scant natural features. My God, I can't go there, Luke thought. I'm likely to be robbed or coerced into a scam. He was not sure he could expect any better from somewhere in Duldrum though. Considering somewhere there would be his only other option, he went ahead and tried it. It was not so bad as he imagined. He attended a few times. It was never terrible but it was never good. The tutors talked down to him. He felt alienated by the members of staff and young students volunteering with them. Sometimes they would pop in to the room for a chat. Everyone would gush about how talented Luke was. This he felt was not sincere and he had no idea how to respond. Moments later they would be doing the same for someone else - whom in Luke's opinion was not producing a great work of art.

Some of the people who attended would only come once or twice. In the chaos, new faces were constantly surprising him. When other males would show up, the tension in the room could be cut with a knife. Luke was a well-dressed, effete gentlemen in a jumper and jeans sitting opposite a skinheaded young lad in a tracksuit. A canyon of life experiences separated him and the others who attended. It would have taken a gargantuan bridge, built by an army of tireless pilgrims aided by the gods, to enable them to understand each other. There were relays of uneasy glances. Angry and dissatisfied expressions were volleyed back and forth. Who initiated the tense atmosphere or conflict was impossible to determine. It was just there. Each side felt short changed by their choice of company. It was hopeless. Eventually, Luke had to leave for good.

At least he had enjoyed learning some art and craft techniques. Printing stamps, painting with oils and making pop-up books did not seem relevant to anything but he enjoyed it nonetheless. Unexpected skills like a slight increase in confidence were gained. As ever, he felt the brochures of venues greatly oversold and overestimated their influence. The reality never matched the advertisement In any case he, satisfied himself he could cope with people a little. Not as well as he hoped - but he consoled himself with the thought college might be better. If people were busy working, there would be less time for worrying about where to look and how much offence he was causing. The problem would still be present yet hopefully would be far easier to sweep under the rug.

He met Alexis at the arts centre. A friendship spanning a few months was formed between them. They went to the cinema a few times and at times had good fun. Alexis was a lot more of a flamboyant character than Luke so their natures did clash but Luke supposed it was not easy to find someone you could get along with just how you pleased. At least he had had a bit of banter and laughter. On one outing with Alexis they were talking about love, something they did not usually; and they got to discussing the question of what was in a name.

"Sometimes a person's name can, for some reason, attract me. Do you have any names like that?"

"You're weird you! Ha, ha. But no, I suppose so. Some names are nice."

"Ha ha. A name that triggers romantic feelings for me is Jolly.

Alexis started laughing, and startled, stopped walking. "Are you joking?"

"No. Why?"

"That was my original name. I changed it."

"Wow. That's weird."

"I know. I hate that name. My original name was Jolly Courtney Fraser. My mother used to call it me and she abused me when I was a child so I associate bad things with it."

It was another pattern.

For all the patterns, Luke had managed to break one cycle. He was doing well at keeping within a ten pounds a day spending limit. In the past, he had relied heavily on borrowing from family members and no longer wanted to. As he was getting used to his new frugality, one day he bought lemon and honey chicken with chips from his local Chinese takeaway. He was bursting with pride at having ordered something adventurous. He licked his lips and wriggled his toes. The other three men inside all had opted for the mundane: fish and chips, pie and chips and chips on their own.

The wait in the chippy was excruciating. Each male wondered whether to start conversation while from the back came the muffled sound of the staff speaking Mandarin. Luke wondered why takeaways could not play a romantic film or a funny television show on a TV screen for customers. It could improve the atmosphere tenfold. In more expensive restaurants, there could be classical pianists and auld folk bands. Anything would be appreciated to transcend the mundanity and misery by-the-numbers dining. Like so many eateries, this one offered nothing but food; there was no charm about any of it.

When his order came Luke wandered down to a hill, behind the terraced houses the takeaway was nestled among, and descended. He found a clearing among the trees and sat to eat. His chips and chicken were soggy and the sauce too thick. It was all limp and damp. The chips tasted sour while the chicken was swimming in acid - all he could taste was an overdose of lemon. He could not finish it and decided to bin it. He headed to the opposite takeaway and bought a good old portion chips and sausage. Taking a bite and tasting, his spirits lifted. This meal was not too bad. After a couple more bites a strong wind blew his sausage to the floor.     "Curse this damn town! It's always bad weather here!"           

Furchurch dragged Luke down. It was like a poorly trained hound never letting him get anywhere, tying him to drudgery and cold, grey skies. He had to get out - but he was not sure he ever would.

L

A large official looking letter came through the post one day from the Ombudsman. They had finished their investigation of Luke's complaint. Their decision was he should be awarded £200 in compensation for money spent on bus tickets when his bus pass was lost. This was to repay him for the mistakes of his social workers in the mental health team who had been incompetent when he had lost his free pass. It was nice to finally get what he deserved, even if it was a long time after. The investigation otherwise came to the conclusion there was no evidence that the mental health team had acted negligently or inappropriately.

They took the health team's word that Luke had not often reported feeling suicidal to them even though he had. In short, they valued the word of the health service over Luke's - this even though Luke had told them that they must have illegally altered records to omit things he had told them. He had not expected much more anyway. He was certain the Health Service Ombudsman was corrupt and that it existed to protect the NHS. It rarely if ever challenged it or made it change in a significant way. It was a barrier politicians had created to protect themselves against the deteriorating health service with all its cuts. The executive of the Ombudsman was paid millions in wages while the people it helped were often penniless and unable to get legal help.

What made Luke angry was that people were dying in the United Kingdom right now as a result of successive governments' actions. Their crackdown on welfare benefits, aided and abetted by television and newspaper portrayals of benefit claimants as scroungers was leading to many suicides. Not that anyone would have known by picking up most of the newspapers or watching the news on the TV; they always had time for celebrity tittle-tattle, sport and jewellery store heists but several suicides a week from people losing benefits was not thought newsworthy. In this time of need, not even the NHS's mental health services could be held to account. Just when they were needed the most, they were getting away with murder. Through a combination of cutbacks, not selecting the best staff and a lazy attitude toward keeping standards high they were bringing vulnerable people to their knees.

A private company had been contracted by the government to carry out checks on people's benefits called FRATOS. That way the government hoped to shirk its responsibility. FRATOS denied that it was following targets to get people off Incapacity Benefit or Employment and Support Allowance but they clearly were. The government wanted people off Incapacity Benefit and Employment and Support Allowance. The reason was simple: they paid more than Jobseeker's Allowance. The government's own figures revealed that 1,300 people had died after being told they should start preparing to go back to work, and another 2,200 had died before their assessment was complete.

The people having their benefits taken away had physical or mental impairment or even both and required personal support - yet were put on £60 a week to live on. For some, even if they did not face the loss of their benefits, the worry that they might lose them could worsen their illness. The £60 a week that Jobseeker's Allowance paid could barely pay for a person's food, clothes, phone, electric and gas; never mind medical needs! For some, it meant losing independence and having to go to a care home or hospital. Luke feared they were being sent to die out of sight and out of mind; as he had learned, if anything went wrong hospitals took at least six months to respond to a complaint and the Ombudsman even longer to review one. An investigation lasting that long could be death sentence. By the time anything could be done, the complainant would be long gone, and the hospital and government would try to sweep the craven betrayal under the carpet.

Luke wrote to his Member of Parliament to request help in taking action against the Health Service Ombudsman.  He asked her in a letter to represent his side of the story vis-à-vis

the harassment allegation. The MP did nothing. Nothing that is except write to acknowledge receipt of his letters. She otherwise ignored him or else pretended she could not do anything to intervene in the matter. Some of Luke's sisters and his mother emailed her to make heartfelt pleas on behalf of Luke. They were sent replies informing them their entreaties must be ignored, for they did not live in the MP's constituency boundaries. Bureaucracy always had an excuse. When an MP was not weaseling out of their responsibilities, they were lending an ear to businessmen queuing to buy their public services. All the evidence suggested that essential public services after being privatized to be operated for profit - from trains to electricity to water - declined in quality.

Millions of poor British families, both in households with employed and unemployed people were having to use electric and gas through pre-payment meters. What was perverse and evil was that their energy was more expensive than those afforded a monthly contract. And so the service was worsened and paradoxically also made more expensive. For these millions of families, living on ready meals for many had become a necessity as the cost of using the cooker for gas or electric was too much on their meter compared with a microwave meal. The additional rise in bus ticket prices following privatization meant the same people could no longer afford so much to get to a good supermarket either, or carry their shopping far. Amidst all this chaos, now even the jobs market was being contracted out. Jobcentres were giving way to the pretentiously titled employment agencies. And prices for gas and electricity kept rising too due to a lack of investment in wind and solar farms and hydroelectricity; nuclear, gas and coal energy was cheaper in the short run but cleaning up and transporting the resources made it more expensive in the long view.