Autism And Billion Dollar Corporations Do Not Mix
Its been quite a while since I’ve done a post. I am not the same person I was when I wrote my last piece and you’ll soon see why.
It’s hard to know where to begin, so I will start by saying that as always, my intention is to help families and individuals dealing with Autism. Now, more than ever, particularly in Australia where we have wide spread flooding, I want to use this platform to inform others who may be about to head down the same path I have been on for the last two years, of what they may be up against as they start the process of dealing with insurance giants and building corporations who’s main goals behind the scenes, are their targets and ‘KPI’s’. During this post, I will not be naming the insurance or building companies for now. If you found this post because of their reviews, you’ll know who I’m talking about anyway. If anyone else finds this, the tactics used will likely be used by other, similar companies.
Two years ago, we were home on a Sunday like most other families. Still reeling from the shock of Covid lockdowns and finding our way back to a new normal. I headed to the shops to buy the requested lamb roast for dinner…how very Australian. As I went to grab a tin of Gravox (yep, I cheat at gravy), my phone rang. Being a number I didn’t know, I almost didn’t answer. I was shocked to hear my hubby’s voice on the other end. He had been battling brain cancer for the third time and was always in hospital with seizures, so I assumed he was calling from a paramedic’s phone. Not the case, he was calling from our neighbours phone. I heard him say ‘ the house is on fire’. Now I knew I’d done an okay job at decorating, but the tone of his voice informed me that he was not calling to compliment my decorating prowess. ‘What do you mean?’ I replied, hoping I had heard wrong, or for more detail or for a completely different response, but he repeated it. ‘the lounge caught fire, there’s fire trucks everywhere’. I dumped the basket of lamb and gravox on the nearest employee because I’ll be damned if I’ll let a little baby lamb go to waste just because my house is on fire. I don’t remember getting to my car, I was in such shock. I raced towards home, where it became increasingly obvious that the 5 fire trucks, 2 police cars and an ambulance, weren’t there to admire how I managed to get two completely different types of timber to work together in a cohesive way. The house was literally on fire. Shit.
I stopped by the ambulance to check that my family were ok. Thankfully my daughter and her boyfriend had managed to get Brian, Fraser the cat, the dog and themselves all out safely and everyone was shocked but ok. Those two are my heroes. I shuffled through the ghouls who stood there like the zombies from I Am Legend, filming our home burning as though it had been arranged sheerly for their entertainment. I wanted to stay with my grief stricken family, but I had no choice but to go in to get the chemo meds, seizure meds for my hubby and son, and the insurance papers. It was unreal. The smell is something I’ll never forget. The house was wet, black and utterly horrifying. In the days to come, as things settled, the walls looked like they were bleeding black blood. In hindsight, I could have charged entry to the I Am Legend ghouls and cashed in but they were the furthest thing from my mind.
I got a call from the insurance co to get the ball rolling. Because of our extenuating circumstances, we’d been classed as a special care case and given an absolutely lovely case manager. She was everything I didn’t expect from the insurance horror stories you hear. She was kind, compassionate and helpful and continued to be throughout the claim. She is the one thing I will give absolute credit to through the process. The first person and the last person I dealt with throughout the process were the best thing about it. The rest was an absolute nightmare.
I shared with the insurance company, everything that was going on and they were with me in real time as events unfolded. They moved us into a serviced apartment, where we were very comfortable and got the chance to begin to process what had happened. Two weeks after the fire we had agreed to meet the assessors at the house to get the ball rolling. The night before though, Brian had what we thought at the time was an unusual seizure. I stayed at the hospital all night, only leaving him to go and meet the assessors while he was transported to his treating hospital, I was not allowed to accompany him because of Covid. I must have looked a fright. I had been up for more than 24 hours and still had my ‘visitor’ sticker on but keen to get things started so I could get Brian and Fraser home asap. Once at the house, I explained the seizure situation, especially with my son and that I needed a separate bath (we had the shower over the bath situation which is completely unsafe for him). I was told that would be no problem, that could be done easily during the restoration process, we’d just take some space from my daughters room. This felt like such a gift, I heard the Hallelujah chorus…it was like a miracle! It had been worrying us for a while and we were looking into getting the bathroom done for that reason, but brain cancer and global pandemics tend to put those kinds of projects on the back burner.
The last few years had been tough with Fraser developing Epilepsy and Brians brain cancer returning, then the fire. But, when you think it can’t get any worse, the universe jumps up and goes ‘SURPRISE! You thought that was bad’!
Brian died a few days later. What I thought was a seizure, was a catastrophic stroke. The stress was just too much for him. After saying goodbye to the love of my life I got in the car to head home. Brian got the last laugh when Cutting Crews ‘I Just Died In Your Arms’ came on the radio. I laughed and cried knowing he would have thought that was hilarious. I was, still am and will always be, utterly devastated. I can’t put into words just what we had. I will never be the same, and nor should I. I have come to except that I was beyond lucky to have had the time that we did and how lucky I was to have experienced that at all.
Okay, tissues down, this ain’t no sob story…this is a cautionary tale for gods sake! I was promised by both the insurers and the builders that all would be ok and we would be looked after. I believed them, and I believe they genuinely meant it at the time. They were lovely to me and brought me flowers at the next meeting and I was truly grateful and felt cared for, but unfortunately, that was not the case for the most part.
Haaaaaaaaaaaaa. Sorry, that was just my deep sigh before I begin. It’s a lot, and I’ve written this countless times throughout the course of the claim, but I am determined cover as much as possible, because every action and event that we lived through, may be helpful to someone.
During the two weeks between the fire and Brian passing away, we were determined to be optimistic, to try and look for the silver lining and be positive. We loved our home and couldn’t wait to get back. When Brian died though, I was so confused about what to do. Whether I should go back home or move somewhere else. I didn’t realise how much of the house needed to be done. I assumed a lot of it would be cleaning, but I found out at the meeting, that the entire house would be stripped bare and renovated and that every bit of furniture and the majority of our possessions were smoke damaged beyond repair and would have to be disposed of. Makeover anyone! In the mean time, while drinking sav blancs, I was perusing real estate and home builders, when I found a beautiful house for sale. I went to look at it, fell in love with it and came close to considering it. My kids and sister came with me to look at it again, it was perfect, and just around the corner from my cousin, which was even more perfect because she likes a wine too. I asked my sister to come back to my blackened home with me. We sat out on the deck, sad, lost, confused. We were discussing it when, out of the blue, with no wind, the side gate gently, fully opened. I should have listened in that moment. I think that was my house whispering ‘GET OUT’. I should have bought the pretty house and left the horror show behind. Hindsight is a wonderful thing. I have learned to trust my gut and I should have trusted it then, but I was in so much pain and anguish. The nostalgia of our christmases with family out on the deck and cricket matches in the back yard, the sav blancs with friends…many many sav blancs, kept calling me back.
During this time, I looked into the reviews of the building company and became very concerned. I spoke to a lady at work who had been out of her home for a year after her kitchen flooded. Her insurance company had used the same builders and she warned me about their tactics. I also visited another building company to discuss knocking the house down and rebuilding. I didn’t proceed because they told me the house wouldn’t be ready until February 2022 . I was desperate to get Fraser home, so quickly decided against it. Ah universe, you have a wicked sense of humour! I phoned the insurance company with my concerns with the builders. I told them I had found another house, but I was assured that I would be looked after, that they were professionals, there wouldn’t be a problem and that for the few bad reviews, there were a lot of happy customers who just don’t bother doing reviews. Damn you nostalgia! Damn you happy memories! Damn you sentimental attachment to inanimate objects! Nervously, I went ahead with the restoration believing, or wanting to believe, that going home was the right move and it would all be ok. This was my fork in the road moment, the one I look back on and know that if I had my time again, I would chose differently. I again, believed what I was being told.
Strap yourself in for the hell ride that was 2021.
The restoration works began with he removal of asbestos from the eaves and the enormous, exhausting task of clearing out the entire house. It was just awful, but I did manage to save quite a lot of sentimental things and store them in the garage. By now, I want to remind you all that Fraser is autistic, non verbal and has an intellectual disability. He coped AMAZINGLY well with all of this. He absolutely loved his books, they were his world, but his room was so badly damaged and his beloved books so badly blackened with soot. I was so amazed and proud of him coping with such huge losses. His entire world was turned upside down. Those of you with an autistic child will recognise how exceptional this is.
I was told there was no money for storage of my items, that any storage would be up to me to pay for. We had a huge garage, so it was logical to put things in there. Mistake number two.
I eventually received a timeline of works that would have us home by July/August so I set about designing the entire house. Kitchen, bathrooms, laundry, paint, tiles furniture, curtains, the entire works. Focusing on the house was the thing that was keeping me going as I struggled with my grief. While arranging the funeral I had also managed to find a rental home for us to move in to, so we were finding a new normal while we waited for the works to begin. Weirdest multi tasking ever.
I had a few meetings at the house early in the year. When I asked about the bathroom at one meeting, it was quickly shut down. They told me that they would need council approval and that it would hold up the works so it couldn’t be done. What’s that now? At one point an architect came out to look and we had a long discussion about the possibilities. I never heard anything about that again. No matter how many times I brought it up, I never got and still do not have an answer about what happened. I had some issues with the floorboards…I had Tassie oak with a jarrah border which unfortunately followed the profile of the kitchen cabinets, which was a problem, because I wanted to change the layout. After considering a floating floor, I discovered that my new neighbour did timber flooring! Thankyou universe! So he and I worked out a plan to alter that. Apart from the weirdness about the bathroom, we were good to go.
I remember being out looking at couches with my kids when I got a call from my supervisor at the building co, asking what my plans with the floor were. I said my plan A is to restore my existing floor and plan B is a floating floor. He said ‘well why don’t we make plan B, plan A’. He told me they would pay me out the cost of sanding and polishing the existing floor which I could put towards the cost of the the floating floor. I wasn’t sure and told him I’d think about it. I was still in couch mode and had to compartmentalise my thoughts. L shaped couch? Two separate couches? Decisions, decisions. The floor would dominate most of 2021 and cause me more stress than I had ever experienced…to that point. I think I need a vino just thinking about this. Seriously.
Finally, things started happening. Meetings about the kitchen, bathrooms, laundry, discussions about architraves, appliances etc. There was so much to cover, but while it was very slow to start, things were happening. During this time, I continued to work, Fraser was at school and my daughter was having a gap year having finished year 12 in 2020. All things considered, things were relatively normal.
We regularly took Fraser to the house to acclimate him to the changes as they were happening. We came up the driveway one day after the temp fencing had gone up and noticed the garage door wide open. We had been burgled. Our remaining belongings were thrown everywhere and so much had been taken. I called my supervisor who sent someone around to secure the garage. My father in law actually hung a new, more solid door for me. The insurance co sent the assessor out and told me windows would be boarded up, cameras would be installed and new locks on the garage door. He was ‘outraged’ that this had happened to us. But none of this was done, it was all just talk which lead to another burglary. I got a call at work to say they had broken in again. The door was again, secured, very basically for a second time. I was desperate to get my remaining items out of the house, but I couldn’t get the door open. I asked repeatedly for it to be opened, but I was routinely ignored. I went to the house one morning a week later, only to find the garage had been broken into…AGAIN. The supervisor had been there that morning, but didn’t even bother to tell me. The plumber informed me on my way up the driveway. This was by far the worst with our stuff strewn everywhere. My husbands tools and radio were taken. This was worse than the fire for me. Not only had we been burgled again, but the builders, on the same day, had thrown out $3000 worth of my sisters collectables that they found in the roof space. I was just beside myself. The insurance company suddenly found money for a storage facility… too little too late. My husbands mates had to come and put new locks on for me, because the building co didn’t bother.
New plaster was finally hung and the house was starting to look like a home again. Some kitchen cupboards even went in…but lets not get too comfortable now, cos shit’s about to go down!
To expedite the process, I had decided on a floating floor, because I had been told that if I used my own trade to do any work ie: fix the aforementioned jarrah border issues, that I could hold up works and my rent would not be paid. Hmmm, what to do, what to do. Though restoring my timber floor was absolutely my preference, with the threat of unpaid rent, it seemed like a no brainer. So, the supervisor (I’m getting tired of typing supervisor so we’re now going to shorten it to sup…first world problem, I know) organised for some floorers to come out and quote on the floating floor. I had samples everywhere, but was feeling relaxed in the knowledge that something positive was happening. Insert laugh emoji here, because the universe is just warming up. I got a call from the sup to say that the floorers who had been booked had pulled out of the job. What? Why? I asked. ‘They told me the floor is uneven and would need to be pulled up, but I told them “my client won’t want to pay for that”. Confused, I agreed that no, I would not want to pay for that. I was at a loss. My floor boards were spectacular and smooth as glass. I couldn’t work it out. He feigned disgust and disappoint at his colleague for letting me down. And the Academy Award goes too…
While my daughter and I were on a site visit with the sup, I asked him about an issue I had started to notice a few days before with the floor. Some of the floorboards had started to ‘tent’ and had become wavy and uneven, and the door near it was so jammed that it could barely be opened. He explained to us the it was caused by ‘the huge amount of water dumped onto the house to extinguish the fire’. Obviously this was why the floorers had pulled out. They knew it was too damaged. Later that same day, after being dumped so unceremoniously by the flooring mob, I had arranged for another floorer to come out. After a quick look at the floor, he looked up at me with such concern on his face that I was stopped in my tracks. He told me the floors were water damaged so badly, that they needed to be pulled up. He said he couldn’t live with himself if he took advantage of a situation like that and went ahead with the order. I will be eternally grateful to him. I called the sup as soon as the meeting was over and told him what happened. You just couldn’t make this shit up…he told me that the floorboards were not water damaged and were like that before! The SAME DAY that he had explained to me they were water damaged! He told me to contact the assessor, which I did. They then proceeded to commission an engineering report! What the hell?!?!?! Nothing was making sense. I had to wait weeks for the report, not understanding at all what was going on.
A few weeks later, I got a call from the sup saying the engineering report was in. He sounded strange. I asked him if anything was wrong. He said ‘the assessor will call you’. I asked if the results were going to hold up the works, and he told me ‘it depends on how quickly you can make a decision’. My heart was racing, I didn’t know what the hell was going on. In 2020, we had our front porch re done, this was a master builder who had seen and accessed under the house, so I knew nothing was wrong. The assessor called me later that day. The call was absolutely disgusting. I have never been so condescended too in my entire life. Something felt so wrong. He was talking about the floor incorrectly (tried to tell me instead of secret nailed boards onto yellowtongue, that my boards were directly nailed to the joists), tried to tell me the garden bed outside of my dining room window was at fault, ‘who has a garden bed outside their windows?’ he growled. I was utterly gobsmacked. He went on to tell me how poorly designed my house was…(wasn’t the first or last insulting comment about my home) and how, as a favour to me “we don’t have to do it”, were going to fix it for me free of charge! I asked to see the report, and he said he would send it. I received it the next day after following up again. The ‘report’ was the biggest load of crap I have ever seen in my life. This post is already long enough, so I’m not going to go into the ridiculous details of it, but needless to say, I went through it with a fine tooth comb and questioned everything. No one ever got back to me with answers. What to do now? I wrote an email to the insurance co and included photos and videos of my floors. Thanks to good old Covid and homeschooling, I had oodles of photos and videos from working with my son…on the floor! I contacted the Australian Timber Flooring Association to book a consultation. Thankfully, the Ins (I’m now sick of writing insurance co, so henceforth, they shall be know as Ins. Yep, I know), booked them to come. In the meantime, my new next door neighbour and his best mate came to have a look and couldn’t get over how bad the floors were. With decades of timber flooring experience between them, they said the floor was beyond repair and needed to come up, so I knew where I stood while I waited further weeks for the ATFA dude to arrive.
Finally, the day came, the dude arrived and declared that yes, the floor was water damaged. Duh! More weeks of waiting for the actual report which stated that the floorboards could not be restored, but that amelioration works could be undertaken to make the floating floor a viable option. So again, I waited. More weeks go by. Move in dates, coming and going now. I contact the ins to see what’s going on, only to be told the the assessor is disputing the findings of the ATFA report. FFS!! Another meeting at the house and it was decided that money would be put towards the amelioration works so the floating floor could get done. Problem solved? Ha, of course not! We’re not even half way through the floor saga my friends, so top up ya drink! The sup left and moved overseas. I got a new sup. He seemed eager to get things going, so finally the bench tops and some tiling got done. Woohoo! He found a new floorer, so I went and chose more samples. It was strange time, because things had gone so slowly at this point but this guy was moving quickly, which actually troubled me. I could see him cutting corners on things so I was on alert. It was odd, but I was so over it all by this stage. He promised me we’d be home by Christmas. I was so excited! So he booked the floorer to come the following week, but something was nagging at me, I didn’t know what, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. And then it hit me. I call the sup and asked him who warranties the floor? ‘Thats not us, you’re paying for the floor’. Hmmm. I called the floorer to discuss. He knew nothing about the amelioration works, had just planned to put the floating floor over the damaged boards. WTF? He told me he would not warranty the floor. So, I call the sup back. ‘Whats happening with the amelioration works? Do you guys warranty the floor’? I ask. He replies with ‘No, we won’t warranty the floor’ and ‘What amelioration works’? AAAGGGGHHHH!!! I Contact the Ins, who also say they will not warranty the floor. So I have no choice but to refuse to go ahead. Put a floating floor straight over water damaged boards with no warranty?! No way. I get a call from the assessor to say that I had been pay out for the floors so it was not on them. Pay close attention here… I had not been paid out for the floors, only the sanding and polishing! Honestly, the shit they pull is disgusting. I stood my ground and refused to go ahead. I called the sup and asked for a meeting. Every time I spoke to him he’d say things like ‘I’m so sick of this floor’ ‘I’m over this floor’. I eventually met him at the house, and in tears, asked him what was going on. He walked out without saying a word. The sup left and moved interstate.
You exhausted yet? Weeks go by with no word. Then, at the end of September 2021, things went from bad to unbearable. On a weekend we were supposed to move home, but didn’t, (the only time I had marked it on the calendar but forgot), Fraser cracked. He couldn’t take anymore. He couldn’t say Sussex Home, which is what we referred to our house as, he called it ‘Sucket home’ which was apt because it did suck. He started screaming ‘sucket home, sucket home’, and hitting himself in the head repeatedly. I watched on in complete horror, helpless watching as he then got down on the floor and started slamming his head into the floor. I was utterly beside myself. Every attempt to help him made him worse. I sat on the floor and sobbed my heart out. I ultimately had to take extended leave from work to look after him as the extreme head hitting was continuing and causing seizures. I will give the ins credit on this, after I complained, they did eventually pay me out lost wages and some other expenses….they were for the most part, often good in that area.
First thing the following Monday, I called the ins in tears, explaining what happened and begging for help to get Fraser home. Like a miracle worker she rallied everyone into action and the house got done asap. Fooled you!!! No work was to happen until February 2022. No, I’m not kidding. In the meantime, I got a call offering to pay me out for the entire floor. They just didn’t want anything to do with it. I checked with my neighbour and he told me unequivocally not to do it. I stuck to my guns, knowing all too well, that with the timber and labour shortages, that I would be taking on more than I could handle. They knew everything I had going on but still wanted to fob it off onto me to deal with. They knew if I couldn’t get it done in time they could stop paying my rent. Unbelievable.
I lodged complaint after complaint. I had not been given a new sup, so I contacted the building co, nothing. I contacted to only person there I had details for. Nothing. At one point I got the contact details of the CEO of the building company and threatened to go to him. I hindsight, I should have done just that. But with that, things started happening, and I got a new sup. This was the guy. I was reluctant to feel hopeful, but my gut was telling me this was the right guy to get the job done. I demanded a meeting at the house which happened in the middle of December and finally got an inkling of what was really going on. I knew that there was water under the house and I was aware that there was a slight issue around it but not the full extent. It became clear, though not totally yet, that they had not wanted to pull up the floors because if there was a drainage issue underneath. I was told by a third party, that if they found such a problem, they were obliged to fix it. He said ‘they don’t want to open a can of worms’. It all seemed to make sense. They had offered to do all of the necessary plumbing and drainage for which I was immensely grateful, and felt like it had all been worth to save me future problems. At the meeting I asked how long the house would take…to my horror, I was told April. Seeing the look of horror on my face, they said maybe March. I was horrified at the thought of Fraser being out of the house for another 3-4 months. Suddenly more engineering reports were ordered…you know, proper ones. When I saw them cut holes in floor to do the engineering, I knew just how pathetic that previous report was.
Work started in February with external plumbing works being completed and the floors, the floors FINALLY being ripped up. I cried tears of joy when I saw that. There had been a lot of water under the house for a long time so it was pretty muddy. Huge heaters were bought in to dry it out before the new floor was installed. I remember being so shocked and bemused by it, as we had never had a problem like that before.
About a week later, my daughter and I went to the house to find my shed had been ransacked and burgled. Ugh, seriously! I popped into the house a few days later…a Saturday to make sure everything was ok, and there were no more break ins. With appliances and things now stored in the garage, I was deeply concerned. When I got to the house and opened the door, I was absolutely shocked at the sight that greeted me. I walked across the bare joists looking incredulously at the sub floor which was now covered in water! There had been a heavy down pour the night before, but how could that explain this after all of the engineering and plumbing works? In absolute disbelief, I went outside, looking for an explanation. A burst pipe was all I could think of, but there was nothing like that I could see. Then I saw it. The thing that had caused this entire nightmare. As I suspected all along, there had NEVER been a water problem under the house. There was no guttering! The guttering on the room where the fire had been was removed and had not ever been replaced in the entire 18 months. The guttering on the rest of that side of the house was hanging down, unattached to anything and pointing toward the back porch, where the majority of the water had been pooling. I felt sick. I took loads of photos and videos and went home to send an email detailing what had happened.
The following week, I got a call from the assessor. Every time this dude called it was only to railroad me into something. There had been the floor issue and along the way he called me to tell me I was getting paid out for the bathroom with no discussion or explanation, so my bullshit radar was pinging big time. Of course I wasn’t wrong. He called to tell me that he’d been to the house to check, and the reason for the water under the house was ‘my naughty old plumbing’ and that it was now fixed. Cringe. I knew all of the plumbing had been replaced so I went back to check. As I walked up the driveway, I found that very piece of plumbing in the skip bin. I was able to match it to the photos and videos I had taken of it. I turned it over and looked at it…it had a manufacture date of 2021 on it. They hadn’t taken the bar code off when they quietly replaced it. My naughty ‘old’ plumbing eh?
These are the lengths they’ll go to, to cover their asses and make you responsible for either their own mistakes or things they don’t want to pay for. Nothing I said, nothing I did, my almost ten years of living in that house and experiencing it didn’t matter. They needed the narrative to fit their outcomes and budgets and no discussion would be entered into. But the fact remains, there was never a drainage issue. The water pooled under the house because the guttering was neglected to be reinstated. You know how I can prove this? Because once the plumbing went back on, there was no more water under the house! Hazzah!
So of course they admitted everything, apologised, payed me compensation and got the house done pronto. Got you again! No, this time they tried to blame my brother in law, who is a plumber, who had simply stopped by the house to check after being invited by the builder to re-do the guttering! They tried to say that he redirected their plumbing!! You really can not make this shit up. He stopped by for 10 minutes and couldn’t even do the guttering because he was so booked up.
In the meantime, my poor boy went from bad to exponentially worse and began head hitting morning, noon and night. His last outing was to the house, where we met the sup and assessor. I had to leave as, in front of the horrified tradies, Fraser started head hitting. The all got a look at exactly what I had been talking about. The drive home was a nightmare. He became extremely OCD and stopped doing everything he had previously enjoyed. He stopped seeing his carer, he couldn’t handle birds in the backyard, he didn’t want to go for a walk, drive, nothing. I am not going to talk about his other extreme behaviours at this point and I will explain why later. My life became absolutely intolerable. I couldn’t even get off the couch because he wasn’t coping. I sat next to him for months, watching the same shows at the same time EVERY. SINGLE.DAY. I was constantly emailing his Psychiatrist and Neurologist, because he couldn’t’ even cope with me talking on the phone. His neurologist was horrified and wrote a letter to the insurance company saying so. I forwarded it to the ins but they just ignored it. No response. All of our friends and family were horrified at what had been happening. They all know Fraser and this was not the same person. We had a life before this. We used to go on trips to theme parks, cruises, houseboats to the shops, out for dinners, you know, like normal people. Now I can’t even take him to the Macca’s up the road. We had put so much work into not letting Fraser have too strict a routine. We had him organised to go to day programs as he finished school at the end of 2021, but he has barely left the house since. His teacher came to visit him and could not believe her eyes. His head hitting was so extreme while she was there, that she had to leave. That would be the first of many guests that would have to leave, or not be able to come over because it was too distressing for Fraser. His seizures increased with the head hitting and no medication would control it.
I hoped like crazy that moving home would make a difference. The house was finally almost finished, so I would lay in bed at night, wondering how the hell we were going to move house with Fraser like this! The story is too long. It was a fucking nightmare, but we got there. When I pulled into the driveway with Fraser, on moving day, I had no idea how he was going to cope. I had prepped him as best I could, but It was a complete mystery. He hadn’t seen everything in, what would he think? We got out of the car and walked to the door. I opened it up and he walked in, smiling. I hadn’t seen him smile for months. Then he started jumping up and down giggling uncontrollably! Jumping around the house like Tigger, looking in every room, opening every cupboard, every drawer. He loved his room, he couldn’t stop smiling! I had tears of absolute joy and relief. I was also aware though, of how different things would have been had we got home when we were supposed too.
Ultimately, Fraser is so much happier at home, but sadly its too late. The brain inflammation and concussions have taken their toll. He continues to head hit, though using a supplement called NAC, some Chinese Herbal formulas, good old anti histamines, two different types of prescription cannabis oil and a couple of pharmaceuticals, we are making some gains. He has been for a couple of short walks and drives over the last few months, but this behaviour is now ingrained.
So, why am I writing this now? My daughter celebrated her 21st birthday in August. We were only able to have my mum, brother and sister over. That was even too much, with Fraser slamming his head repeatedly into the floor to the horror of my family, particularly my brother who hadn’t seen the head hitting before.
I got angry. Who wouldn’t? I contacted the insurance company, wanting justice, wanting an explanation. I got the same old bullshit. Despite the clear evidence that they had caused the issue that caused the delays, I got the standard cut and paste excuses. Interestingly, major issues were completely ignored, not denied.
I then finally contacted the CEO of the building company. He got back to me within an hour, saying how saddened he was and to give him time to get up to speed and he would get back to me. He CC’d the email to others in the company. Nothing. Ignored again. So, last week, after more head hitting, Fraser had two big seizures in one week. One of them was on the first hot day we’ve had all year. Anyone who has seen a Tonic Clonic seizure knows how dangerous and exhausting they can be. Doctors have told me that physically, it’s like running a marathon. So as poor Fraser was recovering, I went to turn the air conditioner on for the first time as I couldn’t physically take any layers of clothing off him. Nothing. Air conditioner not working. Later that night, the dishwasher also stopped working. I contacted the builders. Surprise surprise…nothing. All I need is the purchase date of the dishwasher, and the installer of the air conditioner. They can’t even get back to me with that despite multiple attempts. In September, I had to quit my job. They had been so good to give me so much leave, but couldn’t hold my job open any longer. So now, I am out of work indefinitely, I don’t now when/if I can work again. Frasers medical bills are a fortune as prescription cannabis is not on the PBS. It bloody well should be but I’ll save that for another post. So I now have to pay for my warrantied dishwasher to get fixed as well as my brand new air conditioner. It’s just too much
Last night I was watching TV. It was a slap in the face to see the ins throwing millions of dollars at contestants on game show, while they tried to throw me under the bus financially at every turn. Then after that, was a show about an Australian neurosurgeon. I was interested as we’ve had our fair share of experiences with neurosurgeons. During the show was an ad for a famous Australian charity for sick children came on. A beautiful, worthwhile charity that most of us are familiar with. The head of this foundation? The very same CEO of the building company. Rightfully and admirably helping sick children, but no concern for my son who is sick and suffering from the very actions and processes of the of the very company he is CEO of. I just don’t get it.
If its publicity these people want, then that’s what they’ll get. During this process, my friends have begged me to go to the media. I never wanted to do that as I felt like I was exploiting Fraser. However, after watching that shit on TV, I am enraged even further. During the shows, news bulletins broadcasted pictures of flood ravaged areas. Those poor people will be just starting their journeys like we did 2 years ago. How many autistic or special needs kids and adults are among them? Thinking they’ll be looked after, and maybe they’ll be lucky, but what if they’re not? I can’t sit on this information and not inform people of what can happen. One of my friends did contact the media, they have since contacted me about my story and I have resisted. No longer. I am unable to work, or barely go anywhere. I’ve got nothing but rage and Sav blanc to keep me company. As you may be able to tell from the tone of this post if you’ve made it this far…I have changed. I will get myself and my son back one day hopefully, but its a long road ahead. I will not do this quietly. I want justice, I want this to help someone else. There is so much more, but I have covered the majority that I think will be helpful. Gotta save some things for later!
What can you do if you find yourself in any one of these situations? I of course can’t tell you what you should or shouldn’t do, but what I can say is, trust your gut. If something feels off, trust it. Question and question again. Be aware that they are driven by targets and KPI’s. Document EVERYTHING! I didn’t hear back from the building co recently, but something was happening because conversations disappeared from my phone. Luckily, I kept every email and screen shot every text. If I had my time again, I would print up every email and every text message and start a file in date order. It’s a lot of work, but well worth it. I would even go so far as to set up a seperate email account just for the claim as my email became so full that they were bouncing back. Keep a diary to write down phone calls and document everything. The ins record phone calls. With that said, the shady calls I mentioned earlier always came from a mobile phone, so there was no voice recording. I always screenshot the call record though so I have some documented proof that they occurred. There are places you can go for help, but depending on your issue, it is limited, such as ACFA. If you do put in a claim to them, the outcomes appear to be very limited.
If you are beginning a journey like mine, I wish you nothing but the best. I’m sure there are plenty of happy endings out there and I hope that happy ending finds you. Mine hasn’t yet, but I’ll keep hoping. If you are struggling with behaviours in a person you love who is autistic, know you are not alone. It’s not an easy road by any means, but hopefully some answers will find you.
After reliving all of that, I’m off for my favourite drink. Think I’ll need a couple.
All the best, and cheers!
Kitty.
xx
AUTnotISM 