[skuta]

Well, where to start with this? I have spent the last 2 years in some form of “care” after surviving a Stroke. Initially at Blackburn Hospital where the ambulance took me and where I waited 6 hours or more in A&E where self-important staff did nothing for me until I went to a ward. So much for a Stroke being serious. They clearly demonstrated their complete ignorance of blood anti-coagulants.

On the ward at Blackburn the food can simply be described as all very plain and cheap. It filled you up somewhat. I can’t say anything was delicious. Most things hardly tasted of anything at all. So much so, I can not remember anything about it as notable. Except only one Nurse had the common sense to give me water through my nasal tube. Everyone else gave me nothing except a blood pressure monitoring result when I wasn’t even on the ward. They were good at falsifying legal care records.

Then I got transferred to Nelson “Hospital” which looked like an 80’s hotel and seemed entirely deserted. They had nothing there at the time. I couldn’t even buy anything to read. No newspapers, coffee, nothing. Again, the food was unremarkable though we were served plenty of it. In general, better than Blackburn in my opinion.

I broke my hip at Nelson as detailed as their fault in the Root Cause Analysis Report they cobbled together and came back to Blackburn for more of the same. That’s where I enjoyed the magic of a second Stroke and left unable to speak or swallow as well as being totally crippled and unable to walk.

Then came the Rakehead experience (the specialist rehabilitation unit of Burnley General), which seemed like a totally different world compared to the usual ward regimes. There the food was delivered and not bad in general. You could even order in take-away delivery and have beer if it didn’t conflict with medication. You had to organise and pay for everything yourself of course. It seemed like people were only paid to show up, not really do anything that actually helped you. That’s another huge different story.

At this time I became introduced to the delights of pureed food as I was weaned off feeding with what appeared as anonymous slop through a tube in my nose. This was dreadful. You had a “meat/protein”, “potato” & “vegetable” component comprising your meal.. None of the meals tasted of anything. All taste & nutrition seemingly removed. Not recommended. Some guy-patient was kicking off about his food, and seemed determined to make something of it.

A ward meeting was held with various ward staff and a low-ranked representative of the catering contractor. As the meeting started and I learned the representative wasn’t even management who had any choice or control over anything his Employer supplied. I immediately walked out, in the knowledge nothing will happen (& as predicted it didn’t), because we were meeting with the wrong person who couldn’t make any difference even if he wanted to. He had zero authority.

One of my meals had a very strange colour. I wasn’t sure if it was even real food. When I asked what it is, I got told eventually“Chicken” (everything happens slowly in Hospital) . It was nothing like Chicken, so that went in the bin.

This is the end of some highlights of my hospital stay, there is loads of little horror stories and I am trying to stop this turning into a huge novel. If you’re still awake this next bit is about the old people’s home I ended up in (many residents had some stage of dementia).

The NHS dumped me here to store me off of the wards whilst I looked for somewhere else to live after Occupational Therapy made me homeless by deciding the flat where I lived isn’t suitable for a wheelchair. With no help from anybody of course. They couldn’t get me off of the ward fast enough. They said it was only “temporary”. On which planet?

The Home where I was supposed to receive “care” (I didn’t. I was on my own again), was allegedly the “best in it’s area” according to the mythical rumour circulating among staff spreading this lie. No evidence could be found. And I searched. No certificates, trophies, medallions, news pieces, press releases, photo’s, company website bragging articles, nothing. My conclusion: This is total fiction. Least worst in it’s area, more like. And that’s only an opinion based on no real facts.

Their so-called “Chef” (actually a 3rd rate commis chef at best), was embarrassingly bad. A guy who clearly demonstrated his fantasy of him being a stand-up comedian by the way he cringingly flirted with the old ladies in his desperately un-funny manner.

He never came near me for my honest opinions of his his soft, tasteless slop that was passed-off as “food”. On his days off his completely unskilled Kitchen-Assistant magically transformed into his replacement “Chef”. What a joke! He couldn’t even fry a medium egg. They all were over-cooked and tasteless.

The food was all cheap, garbage comfort food with a signature dish of very bland “Corned-Beef Hash” looking a lot like diarrea. Their favourite cheap-meal is Soup & Sandwiches. I know old folk often don’t eat much. This is taking the pXXs. Their “sandwiches” are the quarters of two slices of cheap & nasty bread. This makes not even a snack for a child. They called this a meal. Another joke.

As a Diabetic I was regularly massively under-fed. I explained in simple terms more than once to the Chef how Carbohydrate is counted and used in Diabetic meals. Him and his Assistant didn’t understand any of it. I used to even buy-in my own food to ensure survival. In a Care Home! Where they’re being paid handsomely to feed you.

Nobody cared or even checked I’d had anything to eat or if my blood glucose is OK. I could have fallen into a Diabetic Coma and they would just act as if nothing happened. The Chef wasn’t even embarrassed that I bought my own food. They’re being paid, why is it OK to buy my own food? No questions were ever asked by management, even though I told them. He even stored it all in his refridgerator and micro-wave heated (badly) some ready-meals I bought.

I shared a dining-table with an old chap with cerebral palsy who had a very restricted diet. Instead of tasty soft food, they lazily palmed him off with just cheap mystery flavoured soup. It is appalling. It was described as Home Made Soup. What it actually is is Old People’s Home Made rubbish made from veg scraps or just they just used cheap tinned rubbish. This was actually served to him cold quite often. It was supposed to be hot. Nobody is obviously able to pay any attention.

There are loads of stories about where they constantly went very wrong. They basically did everything on the cheap. Folk would not send their loved one’s to these places if they knew what they are really like. The Care Home Quality Commission’s (or whatever they're called), write-up about this place is pure fantasy. It’s as though they wrote about a different place. They asked £820 a week for this nonsense with a straight-face and I was there on the special NHS rate of £665 a week because it’s cheaper than keeping me on a ward. What a filthy rip-off!