Thu, 01 Apr 2010 3:03p.m.
By Philip Patston
There are some things that just have to be done, whether or not they make "good economic sense". Paying well people who support disabled people is one. Supplying disabled people with the equipment and resources they need to have a life worth living is another.
In the last week we've seen news stories that proves that NZ is failing in both. This week 600 IHC community support workers took industrial action by not turning up for their sleepover shifts. Last week, we heard about Margaret Page, who has chosen to die rather than continue to struggle through life without a cushion and a means to communicate.
I don't blame any of them. Sometimes I feel like giving up myself. Hopefully, if I did, the people I pay to support me wouldn't go on strike, because I pay them well. Because they're worth it and so am I.
In the blurb about me to the right, I call myself unique rather than disabled and there's a reason for that. It's so that I don't think of myself as disabled and so that the world doesn't either. I think of myself as different in a way worthy of note and I want others to see me and Margaret Page and people supported by IHC in the same light.
Part of my noteworthy difference is that, in order to run my business and my charitable trust, be uncle to my nieces and nephews, a brother, friend, social entrepreneur etc, I need support. I need other people to value me enough to want to arrive at my house at 7am to make me coffee, spray my deodorant, cut my toenails and tie my shoe laces. It's not glamorous, it's not a career move, but it is very, very important.
So I need to value them back and make it worth their while.
Fifteen years ago I told the home based support service who provided my support they couldn't meet my needs with the people they were paying $10 an hour. Luckily they agreed and I was able to negotiate managing the funding myself. With the administration component I was able to significantly increase the hourly rate and pay people enough to ask them to occasionally arrive at 4am so I could catch a plane to work overseas.
Ten years later I helped set up an agency to roll out Individualised Funding throughout the country.
Five years on, the Ministry of Health are set to open up IF to more people and providers. Sadly moves are afoot to control how people spend the money. With one hand they giveth and, with the other, they taketh away.
So the other part of my noteworthy difference – or uniqueness for optimists – is that, as I get on with my life like anyone else, I live with a nagging possibility. At any time, a bureaucrat in Wellington, who knows nothing of my unique experience, might decide that my independence costs too much.
What is the price of autonomy, then? How much is too much freedom to have help to do the basic necessities of life? What dollar value do we put on comfort and communication for Margaret Page?
It's an amount that capitalism can't measure.