To be updated.
To Lancashire, now, where disabled service users ready themselves for the realities of Tory Lancashire county council’s horrendous care service cuts.
In February, Lancashire agreed service cuts of £179m over three years, even though the council has about £110m in reserves and plans to pour £294m into road works and transport schemes in the next four years.
This council has rounded on its most vulnerable citizens for service cuts. Children’s respite carehomes will be shut. Eligibility criteria for care for disabled adults will be tightened (nearly 4000 service users will be reviewed) and care charges introduced.
Charges for some services will be introduced and the council plans to cut fees paid to some residential and nursing providers (who, naturally, will very likely look to recoup their losses from service users. I wonder if the good burghers of Lancashire know that their much-celebrated zero council tax increase is being paid for by people with disabilities).
Disability Equality Northwest is seeking a judicial review of the council’s consultation processes. Fair play to them, too – I’ve spoken to service users who say they weren’t aware for some time that consultation about their services was officially underway. Others say that the council tried to keep them out of the “public” consultation meetings that the council held in late January and early February.
If reviews go ahead and the courts find against Lancashire, they could force the council to re-run consultation exercises, which would buy service users time to lobby politicians and think up other protest and service alternatives. Judicial reviews are hardly cure-alls, but they can slow a council’s cuts ideologists down.
The rest is a shambles. Parents keep up the fight for respite centres. Nobody seems to know how many council staff will lose their jobs. Figures of up to 6000 are doing the rounds in the press – numbers the council neither confirms, nor denies. Meanwhile, parents and families of severely disabled people linger in a – well, soulless limbo.
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The first thing Ned Ludd tells me when we meet is that he’s tired. I see it right away, then: red, bleary eyes in his otherwise appealing face and skin that is about the same shade as his grey hair and beard. He looks exhausted.
He was up all night looking after his severely disabled adult son. His son has cerebral palsy and a range of health problems – some remain undiagnosed. His son can’t move independently, or speak. He is fed through a stoma and tube. He suffers regularly from fits (about ten a day) and breathing problems and chest infections. The chest infections frighten Ludd, because they’re potential killers. They have nearly killed his son several times. Continue reading