“That’s right,” said William. “I go down the club of a Friday night and get drunk with my mates. It’s the only thing that keeps me going.”
Ron moved his chair backwards and forwards in agitation. “For a time I was heavy into alcohol. I felt pressured by all the rules living here. Any little problem, I seemed to get physically violent. Matron, you dominate me, always pestering me about my drinking and criticising what I do. I wish I could move out. I feel so boxed in here. I thought things were going to be better with the new units, that we would have proper homes and be able to run our own lives, but you want to have control over everything. I need some breathing space. Just the other day, the staff decided to punish me by refusing to give me a urinal bottle when I asked for it. I couldn’t help wetting myself. It was so degrading. Then, when I asked them to help me get changed, I was told to sit in my wet pants or change myself. Of course, I wasn’t able to. It made me realise how disabled I am and how dependent I am on staff who abuse me. I felt like the lowest form of life. Is it any wonder I get drunk?”
Matron discontinued the discussion but before leaving she handed out a sheet to everyone with a list of rules on it. “I expect you all to abide by these rules from now on.” She stormed out of the room, her head held high and fire in her eyes. The slamming of her office door was soon heard.
William broke the silence by reading out the new rules.
Ball games are to cease in the solarium as they are an inappropriate activity
Staff assistance with evening supper will no longer be available after 9.30 p.m.
Pizza is to be delivered no later than 10.00 p.m.
Residents are requested not to enter the dining room during staff breaks
Natalie remained where she was, trying to make sense of Matron’s behaviour. She’d always claimed to really care for the residents, but she’d just belittled them in the cruellest way possible.
William addressed the group. “How do you feel about these rules?”
Derek was first to answer. “I think we should be able to have food and cups of tea when we want to. It’s wrong for someone to dictate to us what we can and can’t do, just because we’re disabled and can’t help ourselves. I object to the right being taken away from me to do the same things as other people. The old bitch treats us like children on a rein the way she tells us what to do. The units were supposed to give us a normal lifestyle.”
Natalie looked around the group. These people were not only confined to their wheelchairs but were largely imprisoned by their disabilities within the walls of Crystal Gardens, where merely having an opinion seemed to break the rules. Her previous sympathy for Matron had now shifted to the residents. I want to help them, but how?
William looked at her. “Where do you stand in all of this?”
“I support you all the way, but because of my role here, I must appear neutral. I think all I can do is represent your concerns with Matron and try to get some concessions.”
William grunted and turned back to the group. “What are we going to do about this?”
Derek suggested going to the media.
William had his own ideas. “That should be our last resort. First, we need to find an advocate with knowledge of our legal rights to give us some advice. I don’t want anyone to be penalised by Matron for sticking their head out. Does everyone agree?”
There were nods all round.
“If the advocate fails us, then we go to the media. I also think we should talk to the disabled member on the board.”
Derek became more fidgety in his chair. “Let’s get together and write a letter to the board, inviting two members to come to Crystal Gardens to listen to us. I’m sure they have no idea what’s going on here.”
Agreement was reached that William, Derek and Sam write a letter to the board.
Natalie left the room and returned to her office, mulling over all she’d heard. I can’t believe what just happened. How could I have been so wrong about Matron? Why didn’t I recognise how the residents were suffering? There’s got to be a way to change things.
Chapter 28
Next morning, Natalie had hardly reached her office before the phone rang. Picking up the receiver, she heard Matron’s terse voice. “Come to my office immediately.”
Natalie was trembling by the time she got there.
“Come in and sit down.”
Natalie did as she was bid.
“So, you support them all the way do you?”
I’m being quoted. What do I say?
“I have my sources. I need them around here with everyone stabbing me in the back. I expected some loyalty from you Natalie, but you’re just like the rest. You can’t wait to get the dagger in. Look at the blood running down my back.” She half-turned for Natalie to see.
Oh my God! This woman’s totally crazy. “I … umm … just wanted to hear both sides. Umm … I thought I could help then … in … umm, getting better co-operation.” She moved her hands to her sides where their shaking wouldn’t be so obvious.
Matron laughed. “There they go, the three of them, off down the street in their little wheelchairs to talk with their advocate.” Natalie looked out the window to see William, Derek and Sam making their way down the driveway. “It’s the ultimate in disloyalty to go outside the organisation to discuss our problems. They know we could have sorted things out. I’ll have nothing more to do with them. They’ll destroy the whole organisation. You and I’ll be without jobs and they’ll have nowhere to live. Go away.”
Natalie slunk back to her office, shattered by Matron’s venom and rejection. They’d shared such hopes for Crystal Gardens. Now there’s nothing left. Try as she might, she couldn’t make sense of the histrionics that dominated the place.
A knock at the door interrupted her deliberations. “Come in.”
Ron entered. “You’ve got to get me out of this place, Natalie. William told me I shouldn’t be living here. None of them trusts me because I talk to Matron and now they’re refusing to speak to me. I don’t know what to do. I owe over $2000 in board and I’m frightened Matron will throw me out. I’ve got nowhere to go and no one to look after me. Please help.”
So here was Matron’s ‘source’. Tears flowed down his flabby, unshaven face. Hidden behind his rolls of fat, was a person of child-like innocence, reaching out for the love and security he’d never received. He’d been taken in by Matron the same way she had.
“Do you want me to ring the spastic centre to see if they’ve got any accommodation that’ll suit you?”
“Yes, you’ve got to.”
Natalie rang and arranged a visit to the centre.
The day of their appointment turned out to be blistering hot. With staff refusing to assist, Natalie had to heave and shove Ron’s bulk to get him into the front seat of her car. She then struggled to fold up his wheelchair and lift it into the boot. As Natalie got into the driver’s seat, Ron showed her a brown, paper package. “Look they’ve given me a packed lunch.”
Knowing she’d be unable to concentrate on both Ron’s faltering articulations and finding her way across Sydney, Natalie turned on the car radio. Ron soon became engrossed in the music, singing loudly in his flat voice and clapping his hands to the rhythm. It cheered them both, as well as distracting her mind from the traffic snarls.
Finally, they arrived. Natalie retrieved the chair from the boot with only minimal damage to her car. As she dragged Ron toward the chair, she visualised his massive weight collapsing on top of her and squashing her into the ground. But no, he managed to land in the chair without any mishap.
They made their way inside and it wasn’t long before a friendly staff member gave them a guided tour of both the residence, with its individual ensuite bathrooms and the enormous workshop. There they wandered between rows of people working industriously while chatting and laughing amongst themselves. It was apparent all the clients suffered from some form of cerebral palsy. For once Ron didn’t stand out.
They re
turned to the main building to await the director. Natalie lent over to Ron. “Did you notice all the young women working there?” He nodded despondently.
They were soon taken into a large, old-fashioned office. The director advised Ron he’d initially stay at the residence, where his needs would be assessed in preparation for a move to a group home. There he’d be able to live a normal life.
Back outside, Natalie and Ron sat on a bench together to share Ron’s picnic lunch. “So, what do you think, Ron?”
He hung his head. “I’d miss Crystal Gardens too much.”
Natalie stopped eating. “What would you miss?”
“All the friends who died there.”
It doesn’t make sense. Ron had always been so miserable at Crystal Gardens. There were so many opportunities for him here, but his mind was made up. The expedition was a wasted exercise. Crystal Gardens had some kind of hold over him.
On his return, Ron sunk even deeper into his melancholy. He immersed himself in music, infuriating other residents by playing it at full volume, as he drank himself into a stupor, oblivious to everyone around him.
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself, you lazy, fat slob,” William yelled across the solarium.
“Leave me alone.”
“You don’t realise how lucky you are. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. You could do anything you want, but you sit around here like a lazy lump of lard.”
“What am I supposed to do? You all hate me. I’ve had enough. I can’t cope any more. The only way I know to get out of this place is by taking these.” He showed the others a bottle of sleeping tablets.
“Go on, take them,” called Derek. “You’re no bloody good to anyone. I dare you to.”
Ron wheeled off to his room. After a few minutes when he didn’t return, Natalie followed, finding him on his bed, already swallowing the tablets. “Ron, this is not the way to deal with it.” She grabbed the bottle from him and rushed out to get a nurse. Vomiting was induced and Ron survived.
Not long after this, Ron asked her to write a letter to the Spastic Centre, asking them to take him after all. Natalie obliged, highlighting the stress he was under at Crystal Gardens, living with people with terminating illnesses.
On arrival at work the following morning she was accosted in the car park by William, Derek and Sam. William was livid, his wheelchair prancing about. “We do not have terminating illnesses. We have deteriorating conditions. We’re not dying and we’re sick of being written off. You’re just a stooge for Matron. Derek read out your letter to all the residents. Now everyone knows how untrustworthy you are.”
“I don’t know how you got hold of the letter. I’m sorry it caused offence but it was private. You had no right to read it. I haven’t written you off anyway. It’s difficult for anyone living in a place where people are dying.”
“The problem is caused by us not having any counselling available at Crystal Gardens,” said William.
“What do you think a social worker does?”
“I’m not sure. I suppose they fill in forms, arrange transport and stuff like that.”
“I didn’t spend four fucking years at university to learn to fill in forms.”
“Have you ever got to know how the residents really feel?”
“I’ve tried, William. I’ve got to know some of the residents but you’ve never given me a chance have you?”
“Do you know why?”
“Why?”
“Because every social worker who’s ever worked here has been afraid to get involved.”
“I’m prepared to get involved with you or any of the other residents. It’s up to you.”
“You’re just another screwed up social worker who hasn’t got a clue.”
Natalie retreated to her office with William hurling abuse after her. She slammed the door behind her. What am I doing in this mad-house? All she’d ever tried to do was help but she was under attack from all directions. She took some deep breaths. I’ve got to sort this out. On reaching the solarium, she spoke to each resident in turn, explaining the purpose of the letter and apologising for any distress it may have caused. Despite what William had said, all the residents were cordial toward her. On leaving the building she chanced to come across William. He winked at her. Natalie smiled back.
Chapter 29
Easter school holidays were upon them. Time to escape all the nonsense at Crystal Gardens. “Chris, we’re going on an adventure together. We’re explorers discovering new territory, just like in the olden days.”
“When are we going?”
“As soon as we’ve packed the car.”
Natalie started piling up what they’d need – clothes, bedding, esky, food. Chris grabbed the smaller items and carried them to the car. “Just leave them next to the car thanks Chris and I’ll pack them away in a minute,” Natalie called from the front door.
It was well into the afternoon by the time they left, heading south, along the highway. With the light beginning to dim, she drew into a camping ground at Green Patch, parking in a quiet place amidst huge eucalypts. As they climbed out of the car, bird calls met their ears. Natalie looked around at their flurried movement. “The birds are looking for somewhere to spend the night, too.”
“I’ll collect firewood, Mum.” Chris returned a number of times with laden arms before lighting up a fire and barbequing chops. By the time they were cooked Natalie had set up camp. The soft glow of the gas lamp on the picnic table created a fairy-tale atmosphere in which to enjoy their meal. Outside their cosy cocoon of light, the shape of trees stood out against the sky. All that could be heard was the murmur of other campers and the faint sound of waves breaking against the shore.
The moon rose above the trees, illuminating the campground. Dark shadows created an eerie atmosphere. Natalie looked across at Chris. “There’s enough light to start our expedition. Let’s search for the ocean.” Chris ran ahead down the track, only a short distance to the beach. Waves lapped gently onto the sandy shore, the whole scene made mystical by the silver light of the moon reflected across the ocean. It was a place for lovers but Natalie had to content herself with the company of her little boy, jumping about in the water. On their return, they lay down together in the back of the station wagon on a makeshift bed. Chris was soon asleep. Natalie looked through the curtains at the moon until her eyelids became heavy and she dropped off as well.
“Mum, come here quick,” yelled Chris, from somewhere outside the car, waking her with a jolt. She soon found him, standing like a statue, both arms outstretched, with brightly coloured rosellas pecking seed from the palms of his hands. With a whoosh of wings, another bird flew onto his head, causing his eyes to roll. Returning to the car to grab her camera, she was just in time to include an inquisitive wallaby in her photograph.
Continuing south, Natalie was captivated by the beauty of the coastline. Huge waves rolled onto long, sandy beaches set amongst rocky cliffs. The whole area was largely uninhabited, with natural bushland interspersed by cultivated pine forests.
“Look, Mum, let’s have lunch there.”
Natalie pulled into a large picnic area, set amidst eucalypts, well back from the highway. While she prepared lunch, Chris chatted to the family at the next table. Before long they were both being offered slices of home-made chocolate cake. Lunch was followed by a walk with their new friends along an overgrown bush track. There, tall trees reached high into the sky, while colourful birds fluttered about in the foliage.
By evening they had reached Narooma, where they followed a sign to a youth hostel. Situated in an isolated setting, the big old, timber building provided them with a room for the night, even if they had to share facilities. A surprising number of people were milling about, especially in the huge kitchen. The noisy mob of strangers, many of them speaking foreign languages, was a little daunting for Natalie as she tried to find a place to prepare a meal. On completion, she looked around for Chris to give him his dinner, discovering he’d joined the me
n outside, hovering around an open fire, trying to keep warm. Returning to the kitchen, she noticed a young woman on her own, looking as lost as she felt, and struck up a conversation with her. They soon settled down to eat together, comparing experiences from their different countries.
The following day took them inland, on a long drive to a farm belonging to a friend’s parents. To her relief, the usually lively Chris kept himself entertained, firstly with puzzle books and then by cutting the cardboard from small used cereal packets into smaller and smaller strips, which he carefully dropped into a plastic bag. They were welcomed by a friendly, middle-aged couple and a hot cup of cocoa. Conversation over a delicious home-cooked meal was relaxed but, after the exhausting drive, a comfortable bed, in a room shared with Chris, was a relief.
Yet, Natalie’s sleep was restless, disturbed by a dream that she was driving along a boggy road. Despite her efforts to steer the car through deep, sloshy mud, the car fought to go off in its own direction. With a firm grip on the steering wheel, she kept driving. This is so exhausting. Oh no, we’re heading straight for that guidepost. She managed to pull the car back at the last moment. She drove on, despite her trepidation. I’m so tired. All I want is to sleep. She opened her eyes, looked around the darkened room and practised some slow breathing. When she closed her eyes again, she found herself trapped once more on the hellish road, passing initially through farm country, then up a long mountain road through eucalypts and down into a pine forest.
She finally awoke to find Chris’s bed empty. Dressing quickly, she made her way through the house in search of him. Squeals of glee from outside caught her attention. Natalie followed the sound to find Chris feeding a lamb with a bottle, a beaming smile across his face. “Look at me, Mum. The lamb’s drunk nearly all the milk.” The bottle was soon empty. “There are baby chickens and ducklings too. Come on. I’ll show you.” Natalie followed him through the farmyard, sharing his delight as he picked up a fluffy yellow chicken to show her. Chris just had time for a ride on the back of the tractor before a morning tea of freshly baked cakes.
Parallel Lives Page 15