Thursday 21 April 2022

Blessed...

WARNING - the opinions expressed in this "Heavenly Beverley" narrative are entirely mine. I do not intend my commentary to be offensive. However, I can't just sit here and allow an insensitive, reactive, judgmental and ignorant fool like Scott Morrison to continue as Prime Minister without responding to his latest comments.

I did not tune into the Leaders Debate last evening, as I had far better tasks to accomplish, like picking up scripts from the chemist and booking the dogs' scale and teeth cleaning at our vet hospital. We studiously avoided the current affairs programmes and watched "MasterChef Australia" and "Hard Quiz" instead. I was tired, having also spent time in the East End Gallery beautifying the earrings displays and acting as Michael's trade assistant whilst he hung new artworks. So, I retired to our boudoir at a reasonable hour.

Just when I believed politicians couldn't sink any lower in the stupidity stakes that I discovered ScoMo had dropped a clanger during the "Debate". Which, naturally, he didn't recognise as a clanger...Responding to a question by a lady enquiring about the Liberals government's plans for the National Disability Insurance Scheme (NDIS), he unbelievably replied to her that he and his wife were "blessed" to have children without disability. Pardon the French, but what a Richard Cranium the Prime Minister became in that moment.

The NDIS, conceived by the Labor party and badly implemented by the Liberals, was supposed to provide anybody with a disability the means to live as ordinary a life as possible. To participate to the best of their abilities. To be loved. To be respected. To be treated as equal to (and by) every other Australian. Last night, the Prime Minister demonstrated he has no understanding how the NDIS is supposed to function and its role to enhance our humanity and acceptance of all.

Unless he undergoes a radical conversion, Scott Morrison will not be receiving my vote.

I shudder with disbelief at some of the incumbents of this government. So far, the only pollie who appears to have any brains at all is Adam Bandt of the Greens. My Voter Compass questionnaire reasoned that my political beliefs and values lean towards those of the Greens. And I shall continue to monitor the gaffes of those who hold (or wish to hold) the power for the remainder of the campaign. When they trip up is when we see them, warts and all. 

Perhaps I could assist Mister Morrison in a quest to better himself. Leaving his brand of religion outside of governing could be a good start. Visit a supermarket with ordinary shoppers. Attend a mortgage belt school. Reduce the bureaucratic boofheads inhabiting the NDIS and become client focused. Travel along a rural road, not a highway. Observe an Emergency department in a regional hospital. Participate in setting up a budget for an Australian on JobSeeker or any of the pensions. How about stand and listen to a bushfire victim in her devastated town or a disability pensioner in a pub? Instead of running away...

Perhaps ScoMo could indulge himself with more education about people of all abilities. We are not blessed or otherwise when we have children. We do the best we can, as do they. I have known "typically developing" kids who behave like complete shitheads, along with their more agreeable counterparts. I have experienced being with disabled people who have been engaged and very likeable. And others who are sad, anxious, angry or hopeless.

I birthed seven babies through six pregnancies. Three survived. I could tell Mister Morrison that blessed, for me, as a young mother meant a living, breathing, pink baby. The alternative almost destroyed me. I could also tell Mister Morrison that these three children are fabulous people, all very individual. They have strengths and weaknesses, just like the rest of us. From their earliest ages, I wanted two outcomes for them - to be happy and to be worthy. 

My two sons appear to have achieved both these goals. For my girl, happiness is still a work in progress. I wish, with all my heart, for her to be embraced by happiness. She has shown herself to be worthy many times over.

My younger boy, Alex, is an NDIS participant. He has yet to receive an NDIS plan that meets his needs. He has just had his fifth Local Area Coordinator assigned to him in less than three years. LACs are supposed to be the primary conduit between him and the NDIS. Under the system as is, they are merely glorified data entry operators. And according to his fourth LAC,  Alex is too complex for an LAC...

Here is a snippet of Alex. He loves going to work as a Café Attendant at Paraquad Industries. He enjoys the gym and his churches. He has many friends. He studies part time. He has a fabulous rapport with his support worker, Pascal. He likes and trusts his support coordinator, Shannon. And we have no doubt that he loves his Dad and me and is fond of Michael, his Stepdad and Helen, his Stepmum. He can be totally empathetic in one instance and hilariously tactless in the next. He is socially vulnerable and eternally trusting, sometimes to his disadvantage. He is very proud to be Imogen Ivy's uncle. 

The quote by the Prime Minister last night that "...for parents of children who are disabled , I can only try and understand your aspirations for those children", is shallow and insulting. He should not have to "try and understand" if he has any sense. Knowledge is power, Mister Morrison. Find out and act appropriately. 

And get some media training so you stop putting your foot in your mouth.


Catherine, who asked the question about the NDIS' future


Dylan Alcott, radio presenter, tennis player, Australian of the Year, who also happens to use a wheelchair...


The PM, in a photo opportunity with Grace Tame, sexual abuse survivor, former Australian of the Year, who also has Autism...


Alex, learning to surf...


Alex, in the "MasterChef" competition at Duncraig Senior High School...


With Poh and his cupcakes, at the opening of the Warehouse Café...


With Michael and I, at Callum and Bron's wedding...


Immy's uncle...


A visit to the Lego shop.





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