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The Unfairness of Life
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The Unfairness of Life |
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Kethry Member Rara Avis
since 2000-07-29
Posts 9082Victoria Australia 
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Sometimes I hate my work and yesterday was a prime example. The day began like any other. Me crawling out of bed at the last minute, drinking scalding coffee that I could still feel in my throat an hour later when I finally got to work. The rush on public transport, missing one train and being herded like cattle onto the next. Standing wedged between the Guggi handbag and the camper's backpack with the iron braces that bruise my hips. Eyes half closed still, with the scent of a dozen perfumes clashing together and assaulting my nostrils and the rancid smell of sweat that always remains no matter how clean the carriages are. Getting to work and having the phone ringing before my feet had hit the ground or the door had shut behind me, before I had had time for that second cup of java that would wash away the sting of the first. Life is so unfair I ***** to myself. Then comes the telephone call that will change my life, a child is acting out at school, we have to send a team to do an urgent interview. This is a kid we've had our eye for a number of weeks. For as long as I've worked in this office, about six months now there have always been the complaints about her challenging and changeable behaviour and every-time we've gone out and interviewed we?ve got zip, zilch, nothing that would allow us to act. I am so sick of seeing this kid in trouble knowing there is nothing we can do. With the information at hand and a plan developed we go out, myself as the senior worker and a newie who has barely seen life let alone the more sordid side of life. The child waits for us in the principal's office - nothing unusual there except maybe that usually the principal speaks to us before calling the child to the office. We all sit down and make a cosy group of four. The principal Mr Milne is a blocky, stocky short man who looks as if he could wrestle alligators but he genuinely cares for the children in his domain. He wears glasses and they fog as he explains to Amanda why we have come. Amanda sits on a chair that is too big for her and puts on her happy face. I have seen this face before on other kids and know that if we can get this kid to talk it will not be pleasant, the trick will be getting her to talk. The new worker sits next to me opposite Amanda. She looks as if the chair she is sitting on will bite her. She is so green she could bend in a strong breeze. Her name is Janet but everyone in the office calls her gush, probably because of the number of times she has cried when she has heard a sad story. I look at the kid make the introductions and give her the spiel about taking notes so we can remember exactly what she said, Janet sits with her pen poised like a secretary taking dictation, while Mr Milne sits back and struggles to balance his concern with a relaxed atmosphere. We begin with the standard questions "who touches you on the head, the shoulders the belly, the arms and so on" it's a monotonous litany but it beats the hell out of losing a case because we've asked leading questions. The kid is fine until we get to the private parts and then she clams up. It bothers me because she's always been so free before. Something is wrong, something is very wrong. I go back to the parts of the body we've already covered and I remember Amanda previously mentioned a bruise on her leg. I ask her about the bruise. "Does it hurt, how did she do it, how long ago did she get it etc." All the questions to put her at her ease, and then I ask her the big question, "does she have any other bruises?" She tells me yes in a tiny voice, a voice so small I have to lean forward to hear it. She tells me softly she has a bruise on her belly and I ask if I can see it. Mr Milne clears his throat at this point and asks if he should leave and send in Amanda's class teacher. I agree to this and we make small talk until her teacher arrives. Amanda's teacher is well named as Ms Bird for she is tiny and almost hovers over Amanda. I explain to Amanda what I would like her to do and she gently lifts her dress. Her stomach, thighs and genital area is a mass of bruising, so much so that there is no space for normal skin colour. Janet looks away in fright or disgust I can't tell which. I talk to Amanda softly and gently, asking the questions I must ask to get the information I need to follow it further and telling her that we need her to see a doctor and I will be talking to mummy and daddy about what has happened. Amanda does not react to mummy being spoken to but at the mention of talking to her daddy she whimpers in fear. I am ready to leave the room to consult with my supervisor and get some appointments when I notice that Janet is looking green around the gills. I offer her a chance to leave and she seizes it gratefully. When she comes back, we arrange to go to the hospital together, the police will be waiting there to speak to Amanda and if we can find a suitable adult to care for her our job will be nearly done, we will then only have to do the interviews with the parents, write up the case notes and prepare a bail justice hearing. We should finish work around eight or so, not bad for a normal day. When we finally return to the office about five Janet suddenly vomits all over my new shoes. I am not impressed. The supervisor sends her home and I get to do all the paperwork and tie up all the loose ends. Life is so unfair. Here in the midst of my lonely abyss, a single joy I find...your presence in my mind. Unknown [This message has been edited by Kethry (04-25-2002 05:39 PM).] |
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| © Copyright 2002 Lynne Dale - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Janet Marie Member Laureate
since 2000-01-22
Posts 18554 |
But for each child you help...you give them a chance for a little piece of "fair" There is so much I could say...so much this write stirs up in me....I'm afraid if I started I'd never stop... so for now...I'll just thank you for sharing this with us... and hug you ..once from me... once from Amanda. heart-hugs Keth (times two) |
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J. K. Mitchell Member
since 2002-01-12
Posts 311GA |
The life is unfair sums up everyone's feelings in the whole story. The pain that the little Amanda had to live with for who knows how long was unfair. That she felt scared to talk about it was unfair. That the whole thing occured in the first place was unfair. Moving story, and appropriate title. |
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Marsha
since 2000-07-10
Posts 7423Maidstone Kent England |
Keth darling sister of my heart and holder of souls lilting song, as I said earlier this is a powerful emotive piece of writing, truly outstanding. The little triumphs the crashing pain, you show it all with your amazing compassion. Your writing shines darling heart it really does. Do I love this? Tell me what do you think? I love it its Absolutely Perfection personified. What would the Amanda’s do in this world if it wasn’t for you? Hmmm? They’d lose, YOU make a difference darling heart a huge difference. And you always shall, I thank you on behalf of the Amanda’s of this world and also for me. YOU are the light that leads me back home darling heart. I wub you   Love and warm stuff As always Mushy  To give light to them that sit in darkness..... to guide our feet into the way of peace Luke 2:79 [This message has been edited by Marsha (04-26-2002 06:43 PM).] |
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nakdthoughts Member Laureate
since 2000-10-29
Posts 19200Between the Lines |
Keth ..because I have worked with young children and plan to again shortly, this story reached inside me and pulled out the feelings both of a caretaker and a teacher and one who respects children, always. Your words said it all, life was unfair, to this child, and to the social worker...and you did it with such compassion. hugss M |
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Marge Tindal
since 1999-11-06
Posts 42384Florida's Foreverly Shores |
Kethry~ I am beyond words of mere admiration for the job you do~ As a mentor to youth .. I have also thought of the unfair hand that life often deals them~ You wrote this sensitively and with a compassionate heart ... I only volunteer my services ... I think I am glad that it isn't my profession~ And like Janet ... I sometimes retch at the unfairness of it all~ *HUGS* to you hon~ ~*Marge*~ ~*The pen of the poet never runs out of ink, as long as we breathe.*~ |
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Pilgrimage Member Elite
since 2001-12-04
Posts 3945Texas, USA |
Keth, I don't want to talk about this. So I'll just say, well written. I'm sorry for your shoes, they deserve better. I'm not even going to touch what the child deserves and what her parents deserve, because I'll cry about the girl, and I want to kill her father with my bare hands. And I probably couldn't even if I could get away with it. They should give social workers a .22 and permission to use it whenever needed. It would simplify things. Nan |
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Seymour Tabin Member Empyrean
since 1999-07-07
Posts 31720Tamarac Fla |
Keth, You are one of the few. Thank god for the few The writting was excellent. Sy |
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