Uncle John

Uncle John

Having just published a couple of reports I should have dealt with six months ago, this is another update  that I ought to have written before Christmas. 

There had not been a peep from QCAT to let me know how the case for the Tribunal was progressing; I had heard once more from the Private Investigator who had been trying to establish contact with Uncle John, and he reported they had now made it impossible for anyone to get into the Nursing Home to visit him. This was quite apart from restrictions imposed by the virus; as far as getting in touch with Uncle John in any way at all, the portcullis had come down and the drawbridge was staying up. For him, it was a no-go area, with no explanation as to why this was happening.  

At one point, I also telephoned someone at Brisbane Cathedral, in the hope that they could at least attempt a pastoral visit or phone call, but they, too, had been turned away; when I spoke again to the lady at St David's to ask how she had got on with the request, she could only tell me that the staff at the Nursing Home had refused contact, and when asked "Why?" the reply was, "It's complicated." It was clear alarm bells had not even rung with someone from the Church. 

Then I remembered that, when we all lived in Dar-es-Salaam, we used to attend Services held by the Salvation Army. I know how very understanding they are - Mum and I got some terrific help from them during the times when it was particularly bad with my father ill-treating Mum - and I thought if anyone could make some sort of a breakthrough, it might be someone from the Salvation Army. 

I stayed up until gone midnight again so that when I made the phone call it would be 9.00 a.m. in Brisbane, and I got through to a very kind and understanding Officer. When I had explained what had happened, and how long it had gone on for, she said she would try her best for us and, sure enough, later that day, I received an e-mail from her. She had been in touch with the Nursing Home, and had a name for me; she suggested I call this person, who would be willing to talk to me. Of course, I rang the home immediately, but with the time difference, it was already just after the time when the office staff  had finished work for the day, so I had to leave it until midnight, when I tried again.

And at long last, I had a very sympathetic conversation with someone. Nothing could be spelled out in detail for me, but in a roundabout and diplomatic, coded way, I got the message. I was told it is the law in Australia for anyone who has put a Power of Attorney in place, when that person dies, the Power of Attorney falls away: and the Power of Attorney for Uncle John ended on 28th October 2020.

It was a blow, but not unexpected. I think I had known all along that my comment in a previous blog post saying if the authorities delayed along enough, it would no longer matter, because Uncle John would be dead, would be proved prophetic.  

It was especially poignant because Uncle John had died on what would have been Mum's 101st Birthday; and he was exactly 97 and a half years old. 

I was also told that, near the end of his life, Uncle John had been moved to Hospital, and there he would have stayed, except that he made it clear he did not want to die in Hospital, but wanted to be back in the Nursing Home. I really understood that: in the Hospital, he knew no-one, but in the Nursing Home, at least he was with people he knew and had got used to.  I think his wish to be in the Nursing Home proves, at least to me, that he was in control of his own mind and knew what was going on, and what he wanted. 

I know we can't turn back the clock, but how I wish he had made a different decision about staying in Australia, and had agreed to come back to England and live with us here, instead. We  can all take comfort from that fact that at least he knew he was loved, and knew he always had a home here with us. 

I just pray that at the end, he was at peace and went gently. He is always in our thoughts and prayers.