I have name-changed for this, for fairly obvious reasons.
Let me preface this by saying the following: I am 45 years old, a survivor of CSA and rape, and I am disabled. I have a degenerative brain condition which, until fairly recently, was pretty much invisible – however, following an admission to hospital 3 months ago, my mobility is now reliant on aids. I walk with crutches and have had to have a stair lift installed, because I lack the strength to safely haul myself anywhere. I still have full mental capacity.
After my release from hospital, I reluctantly agreed to have a team of carers enter my home. I live with my teenage son and adult daughter (who has severe MH problems, herself)... and I have a dog. I'm not one of these people who believe that their dog lacks the ability to be aggressive – whilst she's friendly and thrives on social interactions, at the end of the day she is an animal. She is also a rescue dog, whom I've worked hard with to train and do everything in my power to stop her from perhaps one day biting someone. She is extremely attached to me. She also barks to alert me to things (people entering/leaving our home being one of them) and I am alert to her body language at all times.
The team who came into my home for the first 8 weeks were the “rapid response” carers. I appreciate how lucky I was that my request for no male carers be assigned during this period was respected, and that the ladies were all “dog people” (my dog revelled in this, because she had 4 new “friends”!). These carers also listened to me, and encouraged me to start regaining my independence – when they last saw me, I was being helped to independently use the stair lift and go downstairs for a few hours during the day, having been cooped up in my bedroom with only the odd hobble along the landing to the bathroom every now and then. They also helped me to strip-wash, change my lower half of clothing (I struggle to put my legs into trousers/put socks on or off) and wash my hair over the sink. But the bits I can clean? I was allowed to. They understood that I'm embarrassed by “needing” carers at all (it's a learning curve) and that my independence is very important to me.
On Friday, I had an assessment with the agency of carers who were going to take over from the “rapid response” team, with the view to having one carer coming in twice a day to help me on my journey to regain as much independence as I can, and assist me with using the stair lift to go downstairs/back upstairs with a hot drink in the late afternoon. The supervisor who came out was almost ridiculously enamoured with my “sweetheart”of a dog, and agreed my parameters of the assigned carer being “dog friendly” and not treating me like I'm incapable of doing absolutely anything for myself. I explained that I feel almost humiliated by even needing a carer at all, still, and that my condition is severely aggravated by stress (it triggers flare-ups which may put me back in hospital). I also made it very clear that I don't require help with medication(s) and that my children help me prepare the evening meals - the supervisor said that they understood “completely”. All well and good, I thought, and agreed to “Julia” starting on Saturday morning...
Since then, the following has happened:
Saturday - “Cheryl” arrived instead of “Julia”. Used the key safe to open the front door and shout 'hello' repeatedly as she very obviously stood in the doorway – which caused my dog to bark more than she usually would from the top of the stairs where (and this is important) I could see her the whole time. Her tail was wagging and she kept looking to me for reassurance, because this new carer was confusing her. After a few minutes, my dog gave up and returned to lie on the bottom of my bed. At this point, “Cheryl” marched into my bedroom and started to scream at me, aggressively, about my “nasty”, “vicious”, “aggressive” dog. I'm not someone who intimidates easily but I genuinely felt as though she were about to hit me. She then demanded my Nomad as she “had” to give me my meds – and got even angrier with me when I said that (a) I didn't need help with them and (b) had taken them a few hours prior. At this point, my daughter appeared from her bedroom and very politely asked her to leave. What was my “aggressive” dog doing whilst this was going on? Lying on the bottom of my bed looking bewildered. “Cheryl” flounced from the house and I called the agency to pretty much say “WTAF?!” - I was assured that it was a mix-up/miscommunication and they'd send someone else out on Sunday. No afternoon visit as “too short notice”, so I had to have a partial wash under my own devices/remain upstairs (both children were out with friends from just after “Cheryl”'s departure until late evening). Fair enough, I thought; these things happen...
Yesterday (Sunday), there was a knock on the front door which generated a few barks from my dog and my daughter thinking it was her parcel being delivered. She opened the door, having told the dog to wait upstairs (which she did) – and saw “Carer #2” retreating up the road. From my bedroom at the back of the house, I could hear this woman yelling about how my dog is “angry” and “vicious” and she was going to call the agency and tell them to stop “all care” as a result. I (accurately) concluded that “C#2” doesn't like/is frightened of dogs and called the agency myself. I spoke to someone who sounded as though she couldn't give a flying fuck, and said that she would “see what [she] could do about [today]'s visit”. Day two of limited strip-wash and confinement upstairs. I spent the day alternating between being grateful the carer didn't know anything about the key safe – and wondering what would have happened if my daughter wasn't home to immediately open the door...? Obviously, I would have been without care, regardless, as – right now – I am unable to get to the door and answer it safely.
Which brings me to today. “Mary” arrived and, luckily, is a dog-person. However, “Mary” also spent time berating “the dark lady” who is frightened of dogs and has subsequently labelled mine as “extremely aggressive” on my file with the agency – because she barked in excitement at a knock on the door! I got the impression that “Mary” doesn't like “#2” because of her skin colour... which sits very uneasily with me. My daughter is biracial. However, by this point, I was desperate for a hair wash and help with cleaning the bits I struggle to reach... I explained my needs very clearly – particularly that I use pH friendly feminine wipes and that I clean that part of my lower half myself...
Well, perhaps needless to say, “Mary” took it upon herself to not give me any choice in the matter. Subsequently, in spite of my verbal protests at the time, not only was shower gel infused water on a sodden flannel rubbed all over and into my vaginal area... she smacked my hand away from trying to stop her, as though I were a naughty child. Luckily, my son wasn't here (he'd left for college before she arrived) but my daughter – who is working remotely right now – stepped onto the landing to find her mother nakedly vulnerable and on full display, due to “Mary” having decided to open the bathroom door because my dog – picking up on my distress – was whining and scratching to be let in! “Mary” was asked to leave, and my daughter had to help me get dry and dressed once more.
I feel violated. My stress levels are through the roof. I absolutely do not want any more “care” from this seemingly incompetent agency, and am about to complain... but AIBU for wanting to complain to Adult Social Care, who employed them to come into my home, about them? I can't help but wonder how many elderly clients are being abused/violated in the same way as I've been over the last few days – and how many have been left without care because, despite the agency being told about dogs living at the address, they've sent people who are frightened of/by dogs out to them? How many survivors of sexual assaults have been left feeling as violated as I do right now (2 hours later, and I'm still shaking)? Yes, I know that things are stretched to near breaking point, but I also know that this level of “care” simply isn't good enough – especially as I want to regain as much independence/quality of life as I possibly can, was on the road to so doing, but know that this agency's staff aren't interested in helping me to do so. They'd be happier if I'd agree to lying immobile in bed all day/every day for the rest of who knows how long! “Mary” announced as soon as she set foot in my bedroom today that I “need” a fridge, a table, a kettle for hot drinks in here. Which no; I don't – because I have a fully functional kitchen downstairs! That place which I was being encouraged to spend time in by the “rapid response” carers only last week! The more stressed I am, the less likely to recover I am – and despite my children's offers to care for me... I don't want them to. That'd humiliate me far more than strangers doing it.
If anyone's gotten this far... any advice would truly be gratefully received right now. I will be complaining – but I do need to calm down slightly before doing so. My daughter's offered to do so on my behalf, but she's furious and it wouldn't end well, not to mention the fact that I'm worried about her own MH suffering if she causes a complete withdrawal of care for me.