I Fought The DWP And I Won

DLA is a non-means-tested benefit awarded to children with disability based on their physical care needs. There are two parts - care element, which is awarded according to high (24 hour), medium (all-day) and lower (intermittent) care needs, and mobility, which is awarded according to either high (cannot mobilise) or low (cannot safely mobilise) mobility needs. These needs are compared to those of the normal age cohort - so you wouldn't expect a two year old to be able to wash their own hair, but you would expect a twelve year old to be able to. You would expect a six year old to be able to go to sleep on their own and sleep through, but not a six month old.

Last year, Jimmy was awarded high level care and low level mobility for two years duration. This was because, in addition to his daily care needs, he was waking up repeatedly in the night and needing supervision to be safe and get back to sleep, and because he can't safely go anywhere on his own because of his sensory and communication issues. 

In October, I was sent a new form in order to apply for a renewal before his old award ran out in February. I filled the form out, I asked the school to write me a letter to send in with it to pre-empt them asking the school for more information, I attached all the hospital letters we have (albeit, no new ones since his last application since he was waiting for his autism assessment) and I sent it off.

Filling out a DLA form for your disabled child is fucking hard work. The only way to get through life as an autism parent (indeed for any parent of a disabled child) is to focus on the positives. So that's what I do. Yay, Jim has finally started sleeping in his own bed, he's sort of making friends, he's not been in trouble at school for a week, he can READ!, he doesn't hurt himself so much. 

But when you write the DLA form, you have to focus on what they CANNOT do. He can't safely walk down the road on his own. He needs 24 hour supervision to stop him hurting himself or (more likely) others. He isn't generally aware of other people. He won't get dressed for school without help. He won't brush his teeth without help because he hates the tingle of toothpaste. If he wakes up in the night, we ALL wake up in the night.
The DLA form is not read by a medical professional, who might understand the condition you're describing. Instead, it's read by an administrator who has a handbook of useful phrases to help categorise your application. Now, I used to be a clinical administrator and you learn a hell of a lot about care needs and medical conditions when you read about them nonstop, so I don't think that's inherently a bad idea. Well, I didn't until I sent the DLA form off.

Within five days of them receiving it (compared to the four months it took the initial claim to be sorted), they had written to me not just not renewing his DLA but stopping it completely, effective immediately, three months before it should have been. 

I phoned them, confused. After all, his needs have changed a little since originally applying, but not to the point where he's entirely able and normal. Autism doesn't get cured overnight. They said someone would phone me back within two days. 

Astonishingly, they phoned back on the same day and I spoke to a pleasant woman who told me the reason his claim had been rejected was because he hadn't been seen by a doctor in almost two years, ergo there's clearly nothing wrong with him. (The exact wording was "No hospital evidence to support intermittent behavioural problems" - INTERMITTENT?) I don't think they even read the form, since I had written on the form that he was awaiting assessment, his appointment date (received the day before I sent it in) and included a recent letter from the neurodevelopment team stating he was on the waiting list for a full assessment. 

Pleasant Woman was very pleasant about it. I explained that he needs full adult supervision, self harms, hurts other people, and has no road sense (all important parts of the needing-care element of DLA) and that his autism assessment appointment was THE NEXT DAY. She said that I would need to submit the written verdict of the autism assessment as soon as we received it and they would reinstate and backdate his claim based on that. 

I have real issues with this. You see, I get that care needs can be transitory, and that a long absence of hospital information could mean someone is trying to get substantial money they don't need. I understand that all non-means-tested benefits are open to being abused, because bitches love money and they're less financially scrutinised that means-tested ones. 

But DLA is not supposed to be awarded based on a diagnosis: it is supposed to be based on real time care needs (as the DWP told me, patronisingly, in their own appeal paperwork).

The enormous gap in time between referral and diagnosis for autism patients is a known issue, and as CAMHS and the school keep arguing amongst themselves, diagnosis doesn't make any fucking difference to the daily life of the child. They were autistic before, they are autistic after. A diagnosis is not a doorway to treatment and cure, it's just a label that is useful for getting more help, and many children with well-managed autism don't see clinicians for years at a time.
We use Jimmy's DLA money to fund educational resources to keep him up to date during school holidays and to broaden and personalise his learning. We use it for holidays themselves; for days out, and for the various sensory toys and tools we use to keep him happy and calm. It also takes the financial strain off us, which when you're fairly poor anyway is the difference between autism being part of life, and autism being too much to cope with.
I had to phone them to find out why his claim had been stopped - they don't tell you in the letter - because I knew based on the information I'd given them, it was a bad decision. Imagine how many parents DON'T QUESTION IT because they don't think there's any point, or they're scared to question it and be scrutinised, or they think it's set in stone. When I wrote about this on social media, friends who work in social work and medical fields said it now seems normal for claims to be rejected, and require appeal for reinstatement. I'm not sure whether this is a bid to cut the benefits bill or if that's just cynicism. I did make a FOI request to try and find out how many DLA claims were declined, and how many of those were appealed successful, but apparently this is information the DWP simply do not have to hand. My arse.

After a week, I got another letter. My request for reconsideration had been denied. They detailed why, and to be honest, it was a load of bollocks. He had his mobility stopped because his care needs outside were the same as any six year old. When was the last time you saw a six year old run off because of a horn, stop dead, walk into people, lie facedown on the floor because of a dog, in the street?
He had his care allowance stopped because
1. He hadn't been to the doctors in two years
2. A letter from school said he was a pleasant child who struggled with transitions

Now, as mentioned, he hadn't been to the doctors in two years because they told me there was nothing they could do until he had an autism assessment. He needs occupational therapy to cope with noises? Nope, needs the ADOS. He's biting himself because he's so anxious? Nope, ADOS first. I literally don't know what to do anymore, help me? Wait for ADOS. Three separate times I phoned the hospital asking for help, over the course of a year, and three separate times they told me to wait. So, what would be the point in going to the doctors?
Then the letter from school. In the week I received the decision on reconsideration, I had been called in by the teacher because Jimmy had kicked a chair into a teacher and he'd ripped a display off the wall. Schools always want to believe the best in children, and have been open about not really believing Jimmy has autism. When they say he struggles with transitions, they mean he has a loud meltdown everytime it's time to change activity or move to another area. He's better at school than home, because of the routine, but he's still unsafe and difficult.

So, how to appeal this decision? The letter said I would need to go to justice.go.uk/tribunal and download a form to send off for appeal. So I went to the link, and found nothing useful. I had to search the government's site for ages before finding the correct form, and downloading it.
I filled out the appeal form as concisely as possible, and asked the school to write another letter describing his more negative behaviour. I had a diagnosis by then, so I could include the psychologist report as extra information. This, I should add, was the day before the end of Christmas term and I had one calendar month to get the appeal submitted. Stress central.

I got the appeal submitted. I then waited. After a month, I received a huge sheaf of paperwork from the DLA. And dear reader, in my vexation, I didn't read it properly. I read the first two paragraphs of the covering letter (which said it explained the decision), then read the first few pages of the paperwork (declining his DLA) and assumed the tribunal had ruled against us. I cried. I sobbed. I worried. I stressed. I drank. Six hours later, I read the letter properly and found that actually, it was just the Dept of Work and Pensions' response to the appeal, and the case prepared to send to court. Erm. Oops.

So. Let me preface their reasons with a note about the ADOS assessment. It is one 45 minute, constantly guided play session, used to grade behaviour on the autistic spectrum. It cannot be used as a diagnostic tool in it's own right, hence the FOUR HOUR ADI-R that followed a week later.  Jimmy scored highly on his ADOS in terms of communication and reciprocation, but lower on the restrictive and repetitive stereotypies element that is characteristic of autism. Jimmy has a strong history of stereotypies, repetition and restrictive behaviour WHEN HE IS ANXIOUS: when he's happy, he doesn't demonstrate them so much. Aside from to talk constantly about food, to stuff his face all the time, and to chew himself up in lieu of food. And anxiety tends to be triggered by doing anything unpredictable, like go outside, go to someone's house, go out for the day, etc.

With that in mind, and being aware that I repeatedly referred to these elements in all the letters I sent them, here are the DWP's official reasons for not awarding DLA:

1. Autism does not mean an automatic right to DLA. 
Well, I never said it did. I did say that he's autistic and his lack of hospital appointments in the last two years doesn't mean he's magically cured, but that's not the same as demanding DLA because he's been diagnosed.

2. Jim stops in the middle of the road and has no road sense and that's totally fine because his ADOS demonstrates he has no 'temporary paralysis of will' (their words)
No, I have no idea how they made that leap either.

3. Jim needs guidance when out and about and, because he didn't show any evidence of stereotypies in his ADOS, that's fine.
No, seriously DWP, how do you make this leap? What do stereotypies have to do with the constant unpredictability of going out?

4. Jimmy doesn't need enough help during the day to qualify for the care rates because he didn't demonstrate any self harming behaviour in his ADOS appointment. Although he needs some help at school, he is also a nice child and thus does not need substantially more help than a normal child of his age. 
However, his ADI refers constantly to his patterns of self harm and injuring other people. But apparently, that doesn't count because HE WAS FINE IN HIS ADOS! The amended letter from the school also states that he now has a one to one TA all day, but that's TOTALLY NORMAL AND THE SAME AS OTHER CHILDREN. As is requiring sensory circuit therapy every day. Totally standard.

5. Jimmy is not at risk of sufficient danger during the day/night to require constant adult supervision because his ADOS doesn't demonstrate any self harming or repetitive behaviours. 
No really. That's it. That's their whole reason.

And so...we waited.

After a couple of weeks, I received a letter from the Tribunal service telling me what date our case would be heard and that if I didn't attend, it would be decided without me. I was a bit surprised, since by this point I had told the court twice that I wanted the case decided on the paper evidence, so I emailed them for confirmation. They rang me a few hours later and explained the DWP had requested an oral hearing, although they don't often turn up, and I didn't have to go but I could submit more evidence in writing as long as I got it in a week before the court date.

I can only assume the DWP do this to bully people. Honestly, it is BAD ENOUGH doing this as the able parent of a disabled child; I cannot imagine how shit it must be if you are claiming for yourself. I felt like I was on trial for the whole of this case, like I had done something terrible rather than try and get my son's disability money reinstated.
So I wrote a long essay based around the points listed above, but more academic, better referenced, and with less sarcasm, to submit as my final statement on this case. And the waiting recommenced. A lot of lovely people offered to help me go to court, and encouraged me to go, but I couldn't. By this point, it had built up in my head to a terrible demon that I would rather not face. After all, if I didn't go, I couldn't fuck it up and be blamed for any bad outcome.

When the tribunal date came round, I just kept myself busy, constantly aware of the time, and then came down with a terrible virus that stopped me thinking about anything for three days. Which just so happened to be the same amount of time it took the court's decision to be sent to us. I got my husband to read it; I couldn't bear to look.

We won.

Jimmy's lower rate mobility has been reinstated from the date it was stopped, for the next three years. His care rate has been reinstated at the highest level up until February (when it was due for review anyway) and now reduced to medium level for the next three years. It means we have to potentially go through all this again in another three years, but for now, we are done.

The relief is beyond compare. The vindication. The feeling of pure, righteous joy. This was a few days back now, and I am still elated. The court judgement is rather plain, but does say that the DWP didn't attend the hearing it demanded, and the case could have been (and was) determined by the paperwork alone. I wonder why the DWP decided to waste taxpayers money in such a way? Is it really just an intimidation technique? If it is, it's genuinely a worrying tactic. Nobody claims disability benefits for a laugh and a doss, not in the current political climate of LOATHING THE DISABLED, so to target and bully vulnerable children , at the taxpayers expense, seems extraordinarily underhand.

But we won. WE WON! I don't need to write any more 3000 word essays on what Jimmy cannot do and why. I don't need to rail at friends, family and passers-by about how fucking crap the DWP are at legal reasoning. I don't need to sit during every meltdown thinking "well, if the DWP could see you, maybe they'd believe me". I don't have Jimmy screaming he will KILL the government for taking his special money, after I explained that's why he couldn't have a tablet for his birthday. I don't need to doubt my own ability to reason, or whether I'm qualified to actually DO this because I'm a sociologist by trade, not a bloody lawyer. No financial decisions need to be held off, or just abandoned, because of waiting. We can live again. For four months, I've been holding my breath, flinching at every brown A5 envelope that's come through the door with (Appointee) after my name in the address line, worrying, being furious, feeling like a fraud, feeling fucking hard done by, feeling aggrieved on behalf of Jim and every other family that's been through this.

It's done. Until next time.

The reality of living in a deprived area

Wealth and health correlate - the more money you have, the better health you are likely to experience.
I happen to live in a deprived area, in the red on this handy deprivation index map. So, what's it actually like? How does it impact on our ability to make healthy choices?

First up, diet. Everyone knows poor diet is linked to numerous long term health conditions and obesity. There is a lot in the media about choosing to be fat, but how much choice do you actually get in deprived areas? All distances are courtesy of Walkit.com, and are fastest route, so mostly along dual carriageways.

CLOSEST SHOP: Cornershop and Nisa. 0.2km
CLOSEST SUPERMARKET: Morrisons, 1.1km
ALSO AVAILABLE: Marks and Spencer 1.1km, Farmfoods 1.1km, small Tesco 1.7km.

The food choices are varied. The cornershop sells mostly sweets and newspapers, with a small amount of essential daily purchases, like milk.
The Nisa sells a very poor selection of 'fresh' fruit and vegetables, at slightly increased prices. I have never had an unmouldy onion from there, but it will suffice at a push. There is no fresh meat, just sausages, bacon and ham, and no fresh fish at all. There are four whole aisles dedicated to sweets, crisps and cake. There's also a large frozen food section. One whole side of the shop is full of alcohol. There is also a large variety of cigarettes. The deals offered by Nisa are usually focused on cheap multibuys of packs of sweets, alcohol and fizzy drinks.
I'm sure you're acquainted with the produce sold by Tesco, Morrisons, M+S and Farmfoods.
Cost wise, it is cheapest to get a full shop, including fresh produce, from Morrisons or Tesco However, this requires transport, on which more later. The nearest greengrocer is approximately 4km away. There are food banks all over the city, with supermarkets regularly collecting for them. The nearest one is about 2km away and open once a week, accessible by voucher.

Now, exercise. The opportunities for exercise here are limited to walking/jogging, children's karate and gym membership.
BANNATYNES: Costs more than £600 a year, 2km away
COUNCIL FUNDED GYM: £8 a session, 1.7km away
PERSONAL TRAINER: £25 an hour

There are three parks within walking distance. One has lots of broken equipment, countless enormous rabbit holes, and is a popular haunt for drunks. One is much bigger, with better equipment, but is sited right next to the nastiest pub in the area. The last one is a proper landscaped town park, but last time we visited the park, it was full of dust and fumes from the housing estate being built behind it. The general area is well provided with pavements and trees, at least on the main thoroughfares. Once you get into the residential areas, it's less of a concern.

Education is a key determinant for health. The better your education, the better your job prospects, the better your later income, the better your health. The schools here are not great. There is only one primary school here, which received a good rating at its last Ofsted inspection. There are two secondary schools with catchment here. The closest is inadequate according to Ofsted. The other requires improvement, and is 1.7km away. Thankfully, the nearest preschool has an outstanding rating, but is oversubscribed by the entire city, as it has excellent special needs provision.

Transport is not amazing. In fact, my city is apparently the worst in the country for public transport, a particularly damning statistic for a 'new town'. There is a bus service every ten minutes into the city centre, which costs around £4 for a dayrider. Theoretically, this allows travel across the services in the city all day, but it's usually cheaper to get a dayrider than a straightforward return (it's £2.10 for a single to town). A taxi is between £5 and £7 each way, depending on where you're going - it's £5 to go the almost 5km into the city from my house, and £5 to go to the next suburb along. The bus is a five minute walk from my house. My husband is out of the house working from 10 to 12 hours a day. We can only afford one car, and all the families round here are the same. This means doing the grocery shopping has to be done either on foot, or at the weekend. Thankfully, we do the majority of our shopping online, as we can both afford both the technology, and the delivery charge. Access to the internet cannot be taken for granted.
It also means going to the doctors (which is 4km away) relies on public transport or friends. This is great fun when you've got a sick child on the bus.
One nice thing for the city in general is that it does have comprehensive cycle lanes and footpaths. The only problem, as a lone female, is that some of them seem designed to make you fear attack. There is one underpass here that goes under one road and over another. It terrifies me every time I go through it, even when it's the middle of the day, because it is totally invisible from the roads and surrounded pathways. Subways and leafy, murder-alley type paths are de rigeur. Good lighting, and CCTV are less popular.

Employment opportunities are slim to none here. You have to travel either into the city, or to the outskirts where the factories are. Unless you want to work in retail, but retail never paid anyone's living costs by itself. Or you could be a dinnerlady, or a cleaner. Which...same. If you work outside the area, you better hope you earn enough to run a car, or face the awful buses, or be healthy enough to cycle.

Housing conditions are poor. My house, which is a little older than average, is a terraced Edwardian villa. It features original windows in the kitchen and bathroom, which means no double glazing. All three exterior doors are originally, and not weatherproof. They also let in an unseemly number of slugs. The heating is inadequate for the size of the house, and the gas costs approx £1 an hour to run. The walls are lime plaster and keep falling down when you put nails in them, and there's no cavity wall to insulate. The damp gets really bad in the bathroom. My landlord's attitude is that it's an old house, it's not worth the work. Many landlords and rental agencies will not countenance your application if you are on benefits, because as ANY FULE KNO, people on benefits are going to ruin their house, and never pay their rent. I do not know how this is legal. How does it MATTER how you pay your rent, as long as it is paid? We claim minimal benefits now, but would still have trouble getting a new rent because of this ridiculous ruling by most agencies.

There aren't many opportunities for socialising. The primary school have craft mornings for parents (which aren't advertised, so how you're supposed to know it exists is beyond me). There's a large immigrant population here, which has no apparent provision from anyone. There are no language classes in the area, and no advertised groups for those who have recently arrived. The nearest Surestart centre was closed as part of budget cuts (to make way for the £120 million city centre redevelopment, which has so far pissed off everyone who lives here, and attracted very new visitors) but the preschool who occupy half the site has managed to open a few groups for families, as so far the plans to turn it into a disability outreach centre have not been implemented. The nearest fully operational Surestart centre is a little over 2km away, and includes a KS4 pupil referral centre that may put off some parents from attending. There are two pubs locally, and plenty of outdoor drinking spaces, as well as a Costa, but as far as making friends go, opportunities are somewhat limited if you don't already know people here. You can travel out to other areas, if you can bear to navigate the awful bus system. But that's a big if. Being part of strong social networks is one of the best ways to protect your health.

Health services need to be easy to access. I speak as someone who feels rubbish at the moment, but cannot face the bus journey, and then half mile walk to the doctors' when struggling with sickness and pelvic pain. The nearest doctor's surgery is actually in the next suburb along, and would take me 25 minutes to walk, or I could get off the bus in front of it. The reason I joined my actual doctor's surgery is because they have a branch surgery at the top of my road. Alas, this has been out of use for six months, although they claimed it would reopen after Christmas. I have personally never had a problem with getting appointments because I have inside knowledge on how the system works, and thus don't object to detailing my health woes in great detail to a receptionist. Dentists are also a problem. I have a very good dentist, who I love, who is only about 2km away, but who will only see me as long as I have a prescription exemption certificate. Thankfully, I've had one almost constantly for the last five years. However, when I lose my exemption, as I will around a year after my baby's born, I will either have to pay astronomical private dentist fees, or re-register with an NHS dentist miles away. Bad teeth is an image of poverty, because many people either cannot reach, or cannot afford, a decent dentist.
The local hospital is an originally PFI funded, highly modern, highly in debt, new build about 10 minutes away by car. I have to say, I've used them regularly since it opened, and I have never been less than impressed with their care and service. However, to try and get there by bus is a nightmare. You have to catch the local bus into town, going PAST the hospital as you do so, then transfer to a DIFFERENT bus which will eventually drop you off right outside. The local link community bus service that linked up directly from the north of the city to the hospital was dropped as part of the council cuts over a year ago.
My son is autistic, and is still waiting for his assessment, one year after initial referral. Thankfully, the council-run educational psychology team is a lot more efficient than the NHS-run neurodevelopment team. I imagine other disabilities and services are similarly hit and miss, though thankfully we don't need to access them.
On a slightly different note, midwifery services are also taxed, and I have been warned that if I have a homebirth (this is the plan, I'm sure I'll blog about it at some point), the midwife on call may be coming from up to 64km away. However, homebirths are being encouraged to reduce the load on the maternity unit.

Now, a lot of these problems are things that could be (in fact, can ONLY be) solved by a forward-thinking government, or some well informed local councillors. The local councillors here are mostly concerned about things like parking on grass verges, and tree trimming. I know this because they send me the most unintentionally hilarious newsletter every now and then. They do nothing about improving the general local services, aside from repeatedly shutting down attempts to open YET MORE takeaways on the main drag into town. I imagine actually fixing the structure of the area takes considerably more red tape than people in a four year term of government can be arsed to go through.
And some of these problems are circumvented by moving away (if you can afford it), owning a car (ditto), or taking on the 'Big Society' initiative and trying to set things up yourself. Again, this is not easy.

In a few months, I've got to propose an improvement to my community as part of my dissertation. And just writing this has given me so much to think about how much this community COULD be improved. But where do you START?

The Welfare State

Today, I went to the jobcentre plus for my Very First Interview.
And dear God, what a dispiriting place it is.
In my city, the jobcentre is on the corner of a busy intersection, and the building has turrets (presumably to give an air of gravitas). The building wastes it's time. Outside stand the great unwashed, smoking and otherwise passing the time until they have to go to an appointment, catch the bus, or wait for a lift. I cannot blame them for preferring to wait outside, smoking or not, as I've rarely been in a place with such a condemnatory atomosphere.

As regular readers know, I'm a single mum of two. I officially stopped work in January, and since then have claimed income support to live on. I don't like being out of work, but I'm unlikely to find a job I like with hours to suit my kids while they're so young. The choice seemed to be investing in my children, or investing in work, so I chose the kids and started a degree so when they're old enough for me to work, I can get a decent job.

Anyway, back to the jobcentre, with a lower case j. I dislike such typographical absurdities. There's something demeaning on being given handouts by an agency that doesn't even recognise it's own name as a proper noun.
I went to the wrong door at first, and somehow ended up in their offices, where I was patronisingly redirected by a man in a suit. Everything about his face, his manner and his tone said "You do not belong here".
Once I found the right door, I was faced by a busy reception, and one woman directing the human traffic, flanked by two G4S security people. Up the stairs I went to a room full of desks, and a line of phones along one wall. I passed a temping agency recruitment desk who brightly asked me if I was looking for work, and looked utterly baffled when I said no.

There was no privacy, but more security. One woman was crying into the phone because a cockup with her benefits had left her skint, another man was loudly abusing a staffmember because his own mistake meant he hadn't been able to feed his children. I was directed to a sofa to wait for my appointment, and could hear every word of the conversation happening at the desk a few feet in front of me. It was noisy, it was hot and it was uncomfortable in atmosphere. Claimants were either distressed or ill at ease, staff members forcing jollity to try and bridge the gap, security guards on the alert for anyone kicking off.

I was called to a desk, in the middle of the room, where my allocated job advisor (let's call her Helen) went through my personal details. My full name, phone numbers and address were broadcast for all to hear, not because Helen was indiscreet, but because of the design of the place. She explained the purpose of the interview and then asked about my previous job. It went something like this:
Helen: "It says here you worked in administration, can you tell me more?"
Me: "I worked for the NHS, doing data analysis"
Helen: "Oh...is that office management?"
Me: "No, clinical coding - you probably have people here that do something similar, gathering information and then writing reports on the statistics"
Helen: "Oh...boring then"

She meant to lighten the tone, but it wasn't the best start. Neither was it her fault that the computer system lacked a category to put data administration in, so I ended up being classed as 'office manager'. She then asked how long I'd worked there, and on being told 8 years, looked amazed.
We continued on to my current plans and I described my intention to gain a degree and then return to work at a higher level than I'd previously worked in. She asked if I needed to do a degree for such work, and I explained it varies vastly by organisation. She then asked what qualifications I had
Me: "GCSEs and AS levels"
Helen: "How many GCSEs? Have you got maths...?"
Me: "Eleven, A* to C"
Helen: "Oh"

She told me, at length, about her daughter who is currently struggling with her AS levels. I gave her the names and ages of my children, and she asked if I wanted to look at taking part time work. I said not at the moment, and she said fine, and I'd be recalled in six months for another interview. She told me how the benefits are different for single parents in work, and I pointed out that I know this as I was a single working parent for fifteen months.
She sent me on my way with a sheet about benefits for those getting back into work - essentially, some cash if you take a job of full time hours for more than five weeks.

I left feeling faintly depressed, even though I'm lucky enough to know that living on benefits will be a short term thing for us. I cannot imagine how people who have to go every month must feel, having to admit that once more, they have failed in the eyes of the government.
We are lucky to have a benefits system to catch us when bad luck befalls us, but must it be so designed to make us ashamed? It's not my fault I ended up a single parent, I didn't PLAN my life this way. Twenty months ago, I was married, well-educated, comfortable financially, owned my own home, was working, had a beautiful baby and another on the way. Now, I am allegedly among the dregs of society, living from government handouts and aware that everything around me conspires to keep me on the borders of society, with rehabilitation masked by bribery.

There must be a better way.

Drug addicts are people too

So, once again Protecting Our Children was on last night, and once again, I haven't watched it yet. And once again, it has sparked considerable debate amongst my fellow students.

It appears that one of the families in last night's show were chronic drug abusers who had their children removed at birth. One of my fellow students linked us to a program in the USA that sterilises drug addicts for free, and gives them money for it. She linked to this as a possible solution to the problem.

Now, I have two major issues with this. The first, as pointed out by other students, was that by offering money, people are going to sell their fertility for their next fix. Drug addiction doesn't necessarily end in premature death. Many of these sterilised addicts may recover and return to a normal life, but a life where they are unable to have children. Sterilisation, especially in women, is difficult to reverse and expensive.

My second, more significant issue is that it sees people as nothing more than their addiction. Sterilise the addicts, get rid of the problem. Or rather, ignore the problem because it's a lot easier to claim ignorance of drug addiction if there are no unhappy children needing long term care as a result of it. It also ignores that many addict parents do everything in their power to retain custody of their children. Drug addiction in itself does not automatically mean parenting failure.

So, I posed the following to the group:

The most common 'type' of people to have multiple children removed from their care are those with learning difficulties, often due to childhood abuse. Would anyone want to sterilise that particular group of people to limit the number of children in care?

If I'm playing devil's advocate, these are precisely the type of service user that should be sterilised as they are far less likely to recover or gain the correct parenting skills.

Back in the forums, the answer? Silence. Because all a sudden, we've slipped over the line into eugenics and nobody's comfortable with that.