Abuse of People with Disabilities:Abuse is a serious threat to many people with disabilities. This short article provides an overview of abuse, describes indicators of abuse, and suggests ways in which you can support people with disabilities who may experience abuse.People with disabilities include people with physical, sensory, mental health and intellectual disabilities.The justice system identifies people who have experienced abuse asVICTIMSHaving a disability may put a person at risk of abuse.Other people often have negative attitudes about disability. People with disabilities are often socially isolated. People with disabilities are often in relationships where another person controls the decision-making.People with disabilities may need to rely on others for the necessities of life, including intimate personal care. When abuse happens, people with disability may not be believed, may not know what their rights are, or be unable or afraid to complain. People with disabilities often have to deal with being poor. What is abuse?Abuse of people with disabilities, like all forms of abuse, is an abuse of power and control. Abuse is anything that causes harm to an individual. Abuse can be physical, sexual, psychological/emotional, or Economic/financial.Physical abuse is intentionally causing a person pain or injury.Common examples: Hitting, kicking or pinching Handling someone roughly, slapping them Giving inappropriate medicationConfining people or using restraints Sexual abuse:Forcing someone to have sex. It includes kissing or touching as well as intercoursePsychological/emotional abuse: behaviour that takes away someone’s dignity and self worth.Common examples: Calling someone names or putting them downIsolating or ignoring themThreatening to remove benefits, services, medication, treatment etc. Threatening to destroy pets or personal belongings Removing aids (such as a wheelchair or communication device) threatening to send the person to an institution Economic /financial abuse: Controlling another person’s finances without permission.Common example: withholding money for basic necessities such as food, clothing, medication, and transportation Preventing someone from getting to work or denying access to employment altogether Depriving someone of financial benefitsTaking the money needed for food and shelter and gambling it away or using it to buy drugs, etc. Neglect:This happens when caregivers do not meet the needs of people they serve. A caregiver can be someone who is paid to help or a family member.Neglect may involve not giving someone food, care, or necessary medication.It is also neglect when someone doesn’t stop another person from being abused.Common examplesNot providing enough to eat or drink Not providing appropriate supervision Not providing enough heat/electricity Not providing appropriate personal care Removing dentures, glasses, hearing aids Allowing the person to develop skin conditions or pressure sores Leaving the person’s medical problems untreated Systemic abuse:Systemic abuse refers to practices that take away a person’s independence and dignity. Systemic abuse happens in settings where other people are making decisions for the person who has a disability. Government bodies and bureaucrats can also be involved in systemic abuse.Who are the abusers?Often the abusers are friends, family members, caregivers, or service providers.33% of abusers are acquaintances33% are natural or foster family members25% are caregivers or service providers.(Sobsey, 1998)It is estimated that approximately 67 percent of perpetrators who abused individuals with severe developmental disabilities accessed them throughtheir work in disability services. (Sobsey, 1991)How widespread is abuse of people with disabilities?Most people with disabilities will experience some form of sexual assault or abuse (Sobsey & Varnhagen, 1989). People who have some level of intellectual impairment are at the highest risk of abuse (Sobsey & Doe, 1991). Between 39 to 68 percent of girls and 16 to 30 percent of boys will be sexually abused before their eighteenth birthday.(Sobsey, 1994). A survey of 245 women with disabilities conducted by DisAbled Women’sNetwork Canada found that 40% had been abused and 12% had been raped.(DAWN, 1989). Males with disabilities are twice as likely than males without disabilities to be sexually abused in their lifetime. (Statistics Canada, 1994) Among adults who have developmental disabilities, as many as 83% of the females and 32% of the males are the victims of sexual assault. (Johnson & Sigler, 2000). The abuse of people with disabilities is often invisible. When identified it is underreported. Reports are usually limited to serious instances of physical and sexual abuse. Verbal and psychological abuses, and cases of restraint and control, are almost never reported (Sobsey, 1994; Rindfleish & Bean, 1988). People with disabilities have to live in institutional or residential settings away from public scrutiny and with little or no access to police, support services or advocates. More abuse occurs “behind locked doors” (Crossmaker, 1991). Barriers to disclosure:People with disabilities face many barriers to disclosing the abuse. Examples include: Fear: The person may be unable to escape the abuser’s control. The abuser may be threatening to withdraw services, remove the person’s children, or hurt the person’s family members or pets.Economic dependence: Economic dependence or poverty can keep people with a disability trapped in an abusive relationship. They may lack financial resources, educational qualifications, or employment skills or experience.Isolation: Some people with disabilities have had little or no contact with anyone other than their caregivers. They may not have people who can act as advocates on their behalf.Lack of access. People with disabilities often do not have access to appropriate support services.Credibility issues: People with disabilities are often considered less credible.For example, they may be seen as unreliable witnesses in court simply because they have a disability.Characteristics of abuse:Abuse usually occurs when abusers have a need to impose power or to abuse the power that they already hold, and the person with the disability feels powerless to stop the abuse from occurring.It may involve multiple forms of abuse. It may involve a variety of tactics and strategies that on their own do not appear abusive but in combination with ongoing threats, result in intimidating the person they are abusing. In many situations, abusers know that they can get away with this behaviour because the person they are abusing is isolated from social supports or is dependent upon them for economic, social, or physical support. Indicators of abuse:Physical signs include: Unexplained injuries, pain, or bruising Delay in seeking treatment Over-sedation Stained, torn or missing clothes Change in sexual behaviour Unexplained pregnancy Sexually transmitted diseases Behavioural signs include: Behavioral extremes, like hyperactivity and/or mood swings Unusual fear of a particular person Avoidance of specific settings Fear of intervention Depression Sleep disturbance Eating disturbance Withdrawal Excessive crying spells Excessive weight loss/gain Poor self-esteem Self-destructive behavior Circumstantial signs include: Alcohol or drug abuse by caregiver Devaluing attitudes by caregiver Although no one should jump to conclusions, do take all of these indicators seriously.Adapted from Violence and Abuse in the Lives of People with Disabilities (1994), D. SobseyPreventing AbuseThe best way to prevent abuse is to make sure that anyone who has a disability: Is involved in the community Has control over their life and makes their own decisions Can do as much on their own as possible Can get information about their rights There are actions that service providers can take to help prevent the abuse of people with disabilities: Appreciate the serious dimension of abuse of people with disabilities Learn to recognize the signs of abuse. Listen to, believe and act on accounts of abuse. Recognize and respect the fact that many persons with disabilities are able to exercise independent decision-makingProvide information on abuse, options, and resourcesKnow about and network with victim-serving resources What can you do if an adult may be experiencing abuse?Provide information, support, and practical assistancehttp://www.pssg.gov.bc.ca/victim_se...stOrdersWEB.pdfSystemic changes:Institutions need to support and promote residents’ councils and independent advocates to prevent the abuse and to facilitate disclosure. Programs that provide services to people with disabilities need to carefully screen, train, and supervise staff. Providing positive role models and working conditions may be as important as confronting abusive caregivers. Abuse Prevention Information: Sites: Canadian Health Networkhttp://www.canadian-health-network.ca/1violence.htmlhttp://www.publiclegaled.bc.ca/able/providers.htmlFormatted by Richard Long, (BEd, UBC, 1971)202-1483 Lamey’s Mill Road, Vancouver, BC V6H 3Y7 Telephone: 604-301-1606 richardlong@telus.net

The Disability GulagBy HARRIET McBRYDE JOHNSONPublished: November 23, 2003, The New York Times"My father died when I was 2, and I lost my mother when I was 5.'' Throughoutmy childhood, that's what Grandmother says. She's a fine storyteller with raregifts for gross delicacy and folksy pomposity, but she doesn't give thedetails, and we don't ask. To me, it's enough knowing that she's an orphan,like Heidi -- like Tarzan even! What else is worth knowing? Eventually our cousins tell us. When Grandmother was 5, her mother didn't die.She was placed in an asylum. There she lived until Grandmother was in her 20's.There she died. The news seems to answer some questions about Grandmother. Why does anindependent thinker set such store on conventional behavior? Why did she marrya ridiculously steady Presbyterian? I think it's fear. Fear that one day something will go wrong and she, too, willbe taken from her family, snatched from the place she has made in the world,robbed of her carefully constructed self and locked up for life. I know that fear. I share it. Grandmother lost her mother in the early 1900's to what was consideredprogressive policy. To protect society from the insane, feebleminded andphysically defective, states invested enormous public capital in institutions,often scattered in remote areas. Into this state-created disability gulagpeople disappeared, one by one. Today, more than 1.7 million mothers and fathers, daughters and sons, are lostin America's disability gulag. Today's gulag characterizes isolation andcontrol as care and protection, and the disappearances are often calledvoluntary placements. However, you don't vanish because that's what you want orneed. You vanish because that's what the state offers. You make your choicefrom an array of one. But now the gulag faces a challenge from people who know the fear firsthand. It's 1978. Just out of college, I'm working for a local disability rightsorganization. I'm riding, and also in my small way powering, a new wave, ashift from care and protection to rights and equality for people withdisabilities. Part of my job is to give technical assistance on the new Section504 regulations, which ban disability discrimination where the federal dollargoes. This gig has me squirmy. I'm consulting with Coastal Center, a stateinstitution housing people with developmental disabilities -- primarilycognitive impairments and some severe physical disabilities -- about 20 milesfrom my home in Charleston, S.C. My paycheck won't support a lift-equipped van, so I go by car. I am transferredto my portable wheelchair and rolled into a room full of functionaries. How toestablish an authoritative presence? I'm young and small and disabled andfemale. I seem to get away with the female part, but the rest is tough. Still, once I get going I start to think I can talk circles around the verybest functionaries. In no time, it's almost noon. We're breaking up. The moment has come. ''I have some old school friends in Cottage D-4,'' I say.''Could I possibly have lunch with them?'' There's some surprised hemming and hawing, but, yes, certainly, if I like. Anadministrative assistant is tasked to push me there. The ''cottage'' is a big rectangle in cement blocks and brick veneer. One sidehouses boys -- adult ''boys'' -- and the other is for ''girls.'' My pusher leaves me in the central day room, parked against a wall. It seemsboth chaotic and lifeless. High on a wall, a TV blares, watched by no one.Ambulatory residents move across the floor with no apparent purpose. Along thewalls, wheelchair people are lined up, obviously stuck where they're placed --where we're placed, I should say, because I, too, am parked against a wall,unable to move -- like knickknacks on a shelf. Six of these knickknacks are my old friends. Their eyes are happy to see me.Their bodies are beyond happy: wild, out of control. Cerebral palsy does that.I make myself grin. My pal Thomas is a cool customer. He looks straight at me, then cuts a ruefullook at the others spazzing out. I can't hear his soft voice over all theracket, but I know he's offering formal words of welcome. Then we're moved en masse. Plates are put in front of us, with measured food inbite-size pieces. I'd like butter and salt, water instead of milk, but thisisn't a restaurant. Thomas is parked beside me, and we chat about old times atour special crip school. We talk politics, as we did as kids. Some staff members sit and feed residents. Others come and go. They talk loudlyto one another, and we tune them out. Then a woman's voice penetrates my skull,reaches my brain. ''Is this the new girl from Whitten Center?'' I'm aware that the state's oldest institution is trying to reduce crowding. Ilook around for the new girl from Whitten Center. She asks again, ''Is this the new girl from Whitten Center?'' I realize that she means me. I know it's irrational, but I want to scream. I can't, because they don't likescreaming here, and in this panic I don't know what to do if I can't scream. My friends, amused, grimace and writhe. Please don't start laughing, I want tosay. Don't go all spazzy! ''Is this the new girl from Whitten Center?'' Thomas answers. ''She's our friend. She's from outside.'' He has come to mydefense! The loudmouthed staff members don't hear. ''Who is this girl?'' ''She's from outside.'' ''Did you say from outside?'' Thomas coughs. ''Look at her hair.'' The aide studies the shiny braid that falls to my knees. She remarks on mypretty dress and my real gold bangle bracelet. Obviously from outside. Speakingto me now, she asks simple questions. I manage to explain how I know thesepeople, where I live, what I do. The staff members are amazed that someone withsuch high care needs went to college, has a job, lives outside. All agree thatI'm high-functioning, mentally. Time to go home, but first I have to use the bathroom. Why did I sip thatcoffee in the conference room? Oh, well. At least this place has beds andbedpans and aides who handle them regularly. I ask for help. Aides scurry about to improvise a screen. ''I'm sorry there's no privacy; we'rejust not set up for visitors to use bedpans.'' What about residents? Is privacy only for visitors with gold bracelets? I can't ask; I'm begging a favor. In front of my friends, I can't demandspecial treatment. If they routinely show their nakedness and what falls intotheir bedpans, then I will, too. Despite my degree and job and long hair, I'mstill one of them. I'm a crip. A bedpan crip. And for a bedpan crip in thisplace, private urination is not something we have a right to expect. I say it'sO.K. It's a two-person job the way they do it. My way is quicker and easier, butthey get their instructions from their bosses, not from the people they help.They try to hide me with sheets. That evening, I tell my family the funny story about how I was mistaken for thenew girl from Whitten Center and how Thomas and my long hair saved me from lifein prison. I don't tell them it wasn't funny when it happened. I don't tell howthe fear felt. It comes from a different experience, but I'm convinced that my fear is thesame fear Grandmother knew. Because of a neuromuscular disease, I have neverwalked, dressed, bathed or done much of anything on my own. Therefore, I amcategorized as needing special treatment and care. To Grandmother, that meant extra concern, special pleasure when things wentwell, tangible help at times. Most summers, she kept me at her house for a weekor so with my cousin Mary Neil. The widow of a prosperous small-town pharmacyowner, Grandmother let us roam the town with whichever teenager she had hiredto help. Anyone could do the job, because I explained everything step by step;Mary Neil learned the drill, too. Free of hands-on duties, Grandmotherentertained herself and us with her inexhaustible store of memorized poetry,quoted inappropriately. Squeezing into an old-fashioned girdle, she would say,''What strange Providence hath shaped our ends?'' or ''Oh, that this too toosolid flesh would melt.'' Coping with my special needs wasn't all that onerous.To the larger world, my needs had serious implications. I couldn't go to schoolor to camp with my brothers and sister. I was exiled to ''special'' places. Asmy peer group entered adolescence, the gulag swallowed about half of myclassmates. Four went in 1969. They ''graduated'' into an institution after aceremony with caps and gowns and tears. Others, including Thomas, just didn'tcome back after summer vacation. My friends' parents, asking the state forhelp, were persuaded to place them where they would get the specialized carethey supposedly needed. In fact, until they disappeared, my friends got their care from people with noformal training. The main difference between them and me was economic. Myfamily could afford hired help. Thus insulated, they didn't go to the state,and the state didn't tell them it puts people like me away. I knew my family wasn't like F.D.R.'s or Helen Keller's; they didn't have themeans to set me up for life. I was more like one of my girlfriends, who hadlived with nice parents in a nice house with a nice hired lady to take her tothe park to meet me and my lady -- until something went wrong and shedisappeared into Coastal Center. Whenever my parents scrambled to pay forsomething unexpected, a part of me saw my freedom hanging in the balance. Ilearned early that privilege doesn't always last. The nondisabled world sees powerlessness as the natural product of dependenceand dependence as the natural product of our needs. However, for nondisabledpeople, needs are met routinely without restricting your freedom. In the gulag,you have no power. The gulag swallows your money, separates you from yourfriends, makes you fearful, robs you of your capacity to say -- or even know --what you want. The day I visited Coastal Center, I was beginning an interesting career andshould have felt that the world was all before me. Instead, worries nagged me.What if there isn't enough money? What if family can't take care of me? Back then, my best hope was to die young. My disability would progress until Ineeded a ventilator. Then, near the end of my life, I figured, I'd slide intomy slot in the gulag. All it takes to teach me how wrong I have been is about 45 seconds in thecompany of a man named Ed Roberts. It's 1979. He's speaking in Arlington, Va. In the small world of disability rights, he is a star with a famous story. Heis paralyzed from the neck down as a result of childhood polio. In his youth,he was denied services by California's Department of Rehabilitation for beingtoo disabled to work. A decade and a half later, he became head of thedepartment. In between, he fought his way into the University of California atBerkeley and, with other severely disabled activists, helped set in motion thedisability rights movement, which is now challenging the gulag's right toexist. It is pushing for a shift away from public financing forinstitutionalization and to public financing for personal assistance,controlled by us. The government should pay for the help we need, and it shouldnot force us to give up our freedom as the quid pro quo. Never was a big star more frail. Physically, his power chair overwhelms him.And there's more. He gets each breath from a machine; his speech follows therhythms of the ventilator whoosh. With each whoosh, he is changing myworldview. It's not what he has done. Not what he is saying. Not who he is. It's hispresence. Whoosh. His bad-boy delight in truth-telling. Whoosh. His hellcatgusto for proving the world wrong. Whoosh. He is decrepit and tough and amazingly funny. He is a big state agency headunlike any the world has ever seen. In less than a minute, Ed shows me that I have been wrong about people withvents, just as the nondisabled world has been wrong about me. Whoosh. A life like his can turn a life like mine upside down. Whoosh. And lives likeours can turn the world upside down -- or maybe set it right side up. Whoosh. It's 1984. I'm living in Columbia, S.C., 100 miles from my family, takingadvantage of new possibilities. Until the Section 504 regulations, disabilitydiscrimination by universities was routine and unapologetic. Now, at theUniversity of South Carolina law school, I am one of six wheelchair users. Fiveof us use power chairs; without someone's help, we can't get out of bed. Asschoolmates strut in power suits, we whir around with book bags hanging fromour push handles and make bottlenecks at the elevators. I think of us as acounterculture that challenges the get-ahead Me Decade. Most people, when theythink about us, operate under the delusion that we're inspirations. Between classes, I catch up with Dave, a classmate who is quadriplegic as aresult of spinal cord injury. There's a good movie at the student uniontonight. Let's go. O.K., and a burger before. Fine. A plan. Nearly. First we repair to adjoining pay phones to reschedule our afternoons.Each of us grabs a passing student to dial. Busy signal. Try this number. Noanswer. Try that first number again. Hey, can you do 4 instead of 5? Thenanother call. No answer. Try this one. My student dialer has to run. Another takes his place. Hey, I'm going out. Can we do 10 instead of 9? Do you know where so-and-so is?Hi. Can you unpack my books at 3? Between us, it takes about a dozen calls. ''Dave,'' I say, ''this is some crazy way to live, ain't it?'' He gives his diffident C-student shrug. ''Yeah. When I was injured, I didn'twant to live this way. They said I'd adjust, but I wanted to die. Well, youknow, the guy I was then, he got what he wanted. He died. I'm a different guynow.'' It's a complicated life, to schedule in advance each bathroom trip, each bath,each bedtime, each laying out of our food and big law books, each getting inand out of our chairs. But it can be done. We're doing it. We can do what wewant. No need to get anyone's permission. No need to have it documented in anynursing plan or logged onto any chart. No one can tell us no. We can meet for a burger and a movie if we want. Every so often, there are efforts to try something different for young disabledpeople. When Dave and I were in law school, the university got one dormitorylicensed as a care facility. Medically, I qualified for placement there, andthe promise of around-the-clock aides sounded appealing when I had never livedaway from home. Financially, I was too rich for Medicaid and way too poor forthe self-pay rate. Dave had Medicaid, but his life had already taught him thevalue of freedom. The students in the on-campus nursing home helped me learnthe same lesson. Even with a good staff and decent conditions, they were robbedof basic choices. The staff members were controlled by the facility, not by thestudents who lived there. I relied mainly on resources available to any student. Because of Section 504,I had access to student housing, transportation and cafeteria service. A smallgrant from a disability agency, a student loan, work study, summer earnings anda Strom Thurmond Scholarship, of all things, covered the usual costs of lawschool, plus three and a half hours of help per day from student workers Iselected. Sometimes I kicked in a bit extra on the rent to get an especiallyhelpful roommate. It's true that I depended on the kindness of strangers andfriends and sometimes wondered how I would hold it together. But always therewas some lucky break. Sometimes the break was a check from Grandmother with a note, ''Be prepared astrict account to give.'' Or, ''Squander in riotous living.'' Either way, sheshowed that she still rejoiced in my success and also worried about me. By this time, she also worried about her own place on the edge of the gulag. Asage brought disabilities, she got my cousin Mary Neil to move in. Grandmotherhad enough money to see her through, but not if it had to purchase lots oflong-term care. The state's only solution was to make her poor and then footthe big bill for lockup in a nursing home. The nursing home is the gulag's face for people like Dave, me and Grandmother.That is where the imperatives of Medicaid financing drive us, sometimesfacilitated by hospital discharge planners, ''continuum of care'' contracts orsocial-service workers whose job is to ''protect vulnerable adults.'' Pushed byother financing mechanisms, people with cognitive disabilities land in ''stateschools,'' and the psychiatrically uncured and chronic are Ping-Ponged in andout of hospitals or mired in board-and-care homes. For all these groups, thedisability rights critique identified a common structure that needlessly stealsaway liberty as the price of care. In 1984, the general thinking couldn't go beyond nicer, smaller, ''homier''institutions. With my experience as a high-maintenance, low-budget cripsurviving outside the gulag, I offered myself in local meetings, hearings andinformal discussions as an independent living poster girl. I explained thatcertain states, like New York, Massachusetts, Colorado and California, offerin-home services. But, people said, South Carolina is a conservative state. I talked up the need for comprehensive civil rights legislation. Extend Section504's principles to all levels of government and the private sector. It'll never happen, people said. The civil rights era has passed. We got civil rights legislation -- the Americans With Disabilities Act -- in1990. It's a fluke, people said. It won't be enforced. In 1995, the United States Court of Appeals for the Third Circuit ruled thatthe A.D.A. bans segregation. Needless isolation of people with disabilities ininstitutions is segregation. That's a liberal circuit, people said. The SupremeCourt will reverse. In 1999, the Supreme Court, in Olmstead v. L.C., affirmed that needlessinstitutional confinement violates the A.D.A. Fine, but it's just words onpaper, people said. The financing still drives us into institutions. That's very true. But the movement has been treating Olmstead rights as ifthey're real, using the court's legitimacy to demand a wide variety ofprograms, like in-home care, on-call and backup help, phone monitoring,noninstitutional housing options, independent-living-skills training andassistive technology. We're also going after red tape, legal restrictions andthe mind-set that says that if you need help, you need professionalsupervision. It's the spring of 2002. I'm testifying before a subcommittee of the SouthCarolina State Senate. Beside me is my friend Kermit. Kermit calls me his big sister in disability. In fact, he's downright massiveand a generation older than I am, but I'm his senior because he became a quadtwo years after I was born into disability. The black battery box on his chair sports two stickers. The shocking pink oneis from Mouth, a radical disability magazine. It says, ''Too sexy for a nursinghome.'' ''It's true, you know,'' Kermit often explains. ''I did seven yearsinside. In so long, I felt weird when someone took me out, like I didn'tbelong. But I was too sexy to stay. I took up with one of the aides and marriedmy way to freedom.'' That marriage ended years ago, and Kermit no longer hasfamily help, but he will never go back. His other sticker, plain white, says,''Yes 977.'' He had them printed today. They're about the bill we're here for. Senate Bill 977 would amend state law to exclude ''self-directed attendantservices'' from the legal definition of nursing. Current law presumes that allhands-on physical care, for pay, is the practice of nursing and must beprovided by or supervised by licensed personnel. The nursing profession hasjurisdiction over our bodies and decides when to delegate authority. Those whohandle us are supposed to get their instructions from a written nursing plan,not from us. The law hasn't been enforced against self-pay crips like Kermit and me, butfederal law requires Medicaid and Medicare to abide by the state nursing law.That means that their beneficiaries must accept whatever comes from a licensedagency. Agencies typically can't cover Christmas morning, late nights out ormany bathroom trips spread out over the day. Because the easiest place to getnursing is in a nursing facility, this law becomes another path into the gulag.Kermit and I know what works. Through informal networks, we find people to dowhat we need. Because we are the ones doing the delegating, we are free. Kermitused his freedom for a civil service career; today he uses $20,000 per year ofhis retirement savings to pay for that freedom, about half of South Carolina'sMedicaid nursing home rate. With family backup, I get by with the irregularincome of a solo law practice, stashing money in good years to cover bad ones.Our bill would legalize the way we live. It would also remove a legal barrierso that we can agitate for South Carolina Medicaid to finance self-directedservices and make real choices possible. The subcommittee is bothered about safety. The administrator for the Board ofNursing argues that complications like pressure sores and infections can befatal. Nursing supervision is needed, she says, to recognize the danger signs. I wish Kermit were testifying. He has been self-directing very complicatedstuff, and he endures, more than 40 years after his accident. He also has agreat physical persona. His stillness communicates rock-solid strength. Hiswhiteness -- a result of avoiding Columbia's killing sun -- is not so much paleas gleaming. But he doesn't like public speaking. He is happiest finding peoplein nursing homes with dreams of freedom, helping them make the break. It'sunderground railroad work, and I'm ashamed to say it's not for me. I stillpanic when I go into those places. Let me talk to the functionaries. So I explain our reality to the senators. We learn to recognize our dangersigns. We care about our own safety. We can decide when to consult aprofessional, as nondisabled people do. And, incidentally -- bad things have been known to happen even when a nursingplan is in place. Inevitably, the senators look for a middle ground. What if we allowself-direction for ''routine'' procedures like bathing and dressing, but retainnursing control over ''nonroutine'' procedures like vent care and catheters? Kermit's craggy face falls. They're talking about fixing the law for me, butnot for him -- or for Ed Roberts, who lived on a ventilator, or future me. I have been advised to sidestep the gory stuff, but here we go. ''Senator, ifyou need a urinary catheter inserted every time you need to go, say three tosix times per day, that becomes a routine procedure -- for you.'' I sit so low, I can see, under their table, all of the senators crossing theirlegs. I have their attention. They question me about procedures involving tubes, needles, rubber-glovedfingers, orifices natural and man-made. I won't flinch. Never mind thatGrandmother would consider all of this indelicate. ''We know how to do them.And all these procedures are commonly done by unpaid family members. That'sentirely legal, and the nurses don't mind. The nursing law isn't about safetyand professional qualifications. It's about who can get paid.'' One senator is a fundamentalist-Christian Republican, the kind who says thatthe anti-sodomy laws should be strengthened and enforced. ''Ms. Johnson, you'veexplained why this bill won't put people at greater risk, but I don'tunderstand why you care enough to travel from Charleston to push for it. ''Two reasons, Senator. One is, changing the law will free up resources to meetneeds that aren't being met now. With this change, we can push third-partypayers like Medicaid to fund more options, make the money go further. Home carein the aggregate costs less than locking people up. ''The other is simpler. I want the legal right to say who comes in my bedroomand who sees me naked -- same as you do, Senator!'' Redness rises from the senator's tie and washes up his face. Once we have himblushing, the others fall in line. The favorable vote is unanimous. We roll outside. My teal minivan is parked near Kermit's ''Freedom Van'' -- awhite vehicle with controls he can operate with his limp fingers in metalsplints. Kermit stops. ''You done good, girlie.'' No one but Kermit gets to call me girlie. I sometimes call him Mount Rushmore. Our bill became law on July 1, 2002, in time for Independence Day. Self-paypeople won the right to control our bodies, but getting public financiers toallow the same flexibility is a continuing struggle. Ultimately, saving ourselves from the gulag will take more than redefinition.It also takes money for in-home services. But in a sense, we're spending themoney now -- $20,000 to $100,000 per person per year, depending on the state --for institutional lockup, the most expensive and least efficient servicealternative. For decades, our movement has been pushing federal legislation, currently knownas MiCassa, the Medicaid Community Assistance Services and Supports Act, tocorrect the institutional bias in public financing, especially Medicaid, thegulag's big engine. We ask, Why does Medicaid law require every state tofinance the gulag but make in-home services optional? Why must states askWashington for a special ''waiver'' for comprehensive in-home services? Why notmake lockup the exception? ''Our homes, not nursing homes.'' It's a powerfulrallying cry within the movement. In the larger world, it's mostly unheard,poorly understood. We are still conceptualized as bundles of needs occupyinginstitutional beds, a drain upon society. We know better. Integrated into communities, we ride the city bus or our owncars instead of medical transportation. We enjoy friends instead ofrecreational therapy. We get our food from supermarkets instead of dietitians.We go to work instead of to day programs. Our needs become less ''special'' andmore like the ordinary needs that are routinely met in society. In freedom, wecan do our bit to meet the needs of others. We might prove too valuable to beput away. While the movement has been collectively trying to change the world,individuals continue to live and die. My law-school friend Dave fell into the gulag in the end. A series of events --a career setback, some acute medical problems, perhaps creeping disappointment-- made him sign into a nursing home. He vanished without telling his friendshe was going and died within the year. My little brother Kermit remains freeand is using his freedom well. Ed Roberts died in 1995, free, keyed up about digital organizing among otherthings. For one, he was planning to get back to Hawaii to swim with whales: ashark sighting had thwarted his previous attempt. He did manage to float withdolphins in Florida. His respirator fell into the ocean, but he always traveledwith two. Most of my friends from Coastal Center are now placed in small group homes.Although they have bedrooms with doors they can close, they work in ''special''programs, and they still can't select their own assistants or decide where theylive or with whom. After more than 30 years in the system, they probably can'timagine living any other way, but in a way they never had a choice. ''Placed''remains the operative word. Thomas lives in his own apartment and works as a courier in a hospital. Througha waiver program, South Carolina Medicaid pays an agency to get him in and outof bed each day. To cover frequent no-shows, he paid an on-call aide out ofpocket for a while, but he couldn't afford to continue. He would like to useMedicaid funds to pay his own people, but state rules haven't yet been changedto allow that. He has taken advantage of programs that have slowly evolved andsays he hopes to stay free long enough to have genuine control of his life. Grandmother died in 1985 and avoided the gulag, thanks to Mary Neil. Sheinherited the house and lives with her family in the rural community where ourfamily would otherwise be extinct. When Grandmother died, I thought she might leave me some money -- for riotousliving or a strict account to give. She didn't, but I wasn't disappointed. Sheleft me the silver spoons that belonged to her mother. Sometimes I wonder if mygreat-grandmother missed her spoons when she was locked up. More often I wonderhow Grandmother felt when she held her lost mother's spoons and turned themover in her mouth and let her tongue mold itself to their shape. I use those spoons daily. Their flat handles are easy to grasp. Their deepbowls hold as much yogurt as I can swallow. For me, that smooth silverrepresents the treasure of living free. Riding in the van I bought, in ahand-me-down power chair I got from Kermit, I hold my freedom precious. I canno longer braid my own hair, but I remain free to keep it long, and I do. Mygold bracelet was mangled in a fall a while back, but I still wear it for goodluck. I still need all the luck I can get. I have prospered and know a world I once could not imagine. I sometimes dare todream that the gulag will be gone in a generation or two. But meanwhile, thelost languish in the gulag. Those who die there are replaced by new arrivals.
Powerful interests, both capital and labor, profit from our confinement andfight to keep things as they are.

4A – During the three years I lived in Creekview, I was assaulted by:

1) Ethel Bactat Garcia
2) David Hartley
3) Peter Robichaud (twice)
4) Peter Robichaud’s friend “Little John”

The police investigated all the above assaults. I would hope to have their submissions at any hearing I am granted.

I told the cooperative office about the major assault by Robichaud and “Little John” as soon as I was able. John Fellows called me saying not to upset the “young girl” in the office. She is not a “young girl.”

He dismissed my complaint offhand, saying it was just a “family quarrel” and the co-operative does not get involved in those. Also I want to point out that at the time of his assaults and threats to me, Robichaud was not a member of the cooperative, rather he was a tenant.

Following cooperative policy, I filed appropriate grievances. These have never been responded to or acted upon, as the cooperative’s own rules require.

4B – The cooperative accepted my offer to produce a long desired internal newsletter. I asked for guidelines, and was told at a Membership Committee meeting in the Fall of 2004 that I could include some advertising in order to pay for the expensive colour inkjet cartridges. I spent approximately 50 hours and $900 preparing a first tentative edition and the materials and equipment for subsequent regular editions and features. I asked John Fellows for some guidelines but received no answer.

Fellows is a weak leader, in my opinion, and all these problems could have been avoided if he and fellow directors were more open, communicative and detail-oriented.

The co-operative rejected my tentative edition, with no reason given, other than an angry phone call from John Fellows. As a peaceful protest to this treatment I withheld my housing charges for several months. Subsequently I brought my housing charges up-to-date. I explained this to the Board and they rescinded my Notice of Termination, with a verbal apology to me.

I would not be over housed because the second bedroom would be needed for my caregiver(s), as was explained to Mr. Haddock in letters from Mr. Bhalloo.

4C – The Board did not reply to me. That was their form of communication. Silence. On my part, I have always wanted and asked for open and candid discussions.

5A – There are already disabled people living on upper floors in Creekview, as there are in hundreds of buildings in Vancouver. Toby Ross in #804 relies on a scooter. There are others who I have met but whose names I don’t know who cannot use the stairs. All we need is a “Place of Refuge” as is provided in most high rises – in Creekview, the Place of Refuge is the wide outside continuous walkways on each and every floor. The Place of Refuge is already in place.

5B – In both my applications, for unit 411 and 711, I became aware of the upcoming vacancies by reading notices in the lobby that no present resident had applied, and if no one did apply by a certain date, the unit would be offered to the external waitlist. I did not want to jump any queue because there was not a queue for a two bedroom unit at these times, as was advertised on several signs placed in the lobby in both instances.

6 – As I stated in both applications, NO structural changes to either 411 or 711 would be required. I visited these units several times to verify that statement. It would cost Creekview the identical amount they pay when a non-disabled moves in or out. I believe the Cooperative denied my internal transfers because that would mean allowing other wheelchair bound individuals to apply for housing on the upper floors.
My wheelchair and I are not unusual as to size or weight.



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d)


Page 9: The Membership Committee meeting in April was advertised in the lobby with the phrase “New members Welcome!” I had been at a Fall 2004, meeting of the Committee and was asked if I was going to join it or was I just present because I had volunteered to create a newsletter? The newsletter is one of the functions of the committee.

But the chair of the April meeting was not so welcoming, and grossly discriminated against me by instructing the other members to go to a room I could not access because she slammed the door shut. I did not yell, I merely said, “This is not right!”

I had to back up & maneuver my electric wheelchair so I could try to knock on the door with my left hand. My left hand is my only limb that works. I was hoping someone would give me an explanation. My wheelchair is a standard rear wheel drive, so in backing up the front casters swivel and in the close quarters I was in, they would have knocked on the wall or door. This was unfortunate, but unavoidable, and easily misinterpreted.

Another member of the Committee who was present at the meeting can testify how I was, in her words, “shabbily treated.”



I was persuaded to give written notice by the Vancouver Coastal Case Manager, Zejlka Corak, and in retrospect, I now think that I should not have done so. As well, my legal council who had talked the respondent’s lawyer, Mr. Haddock, told me that the respondents were unequivocally determined to get rid of me. But I did not want to leave Creekview.

I believe that the cooperative have made this motion to dismiss my complaint because they know it is extremely difficult for me to respond given my disability, my limited resources and the time constraints, and they hope I will not be able to do so.
The complaints about excessive noise, about insults, and in particular, the assaults, are not true. I informed the cooperative and the appropriate authorities of what was happening at all times. They have never responded.

The directors have managed the residents of Suite 202 poorly:

1) Gilbert Dennis a former resident and quadriplegic is now deceased despite John’s considerable efforts. Gilbert died because of illegal drug use after being evicted by the Board..
2) Robert White, also quadriplegic, was headed down the same path. He would be gone for several days from Creekview and return being helped by his drug dealer. His mother, Karen Deforest, lured him to Kelowna where she lives and refused to let him return to Creekview and its sordid atmosphere. I hope to have her testimony at any hearing I am granted.
3) Peter Robichaud was joining Robert White’s drug world. It was after one of their overnight drug holidays that Peter first assaulted me. He would have killed me with his electric wheelchair if I was not able to escape from my bedroom and defend myself.

Later he told me he was going to “rough me up,” and yet another time tried to ram me in the dining room while uttering threats of violence. This is all on record with the Vancouver Police Department.

In her letter of May 9th 2005, Mavis Friesen of Vancouver Coastal Health, tells John Fellows that VCH will not fund the two vacancies in 202 “due to the current climate, in which there are significant concerns about the negative impact on the health and well being of potential clients due to interpersonal differences between tenants.”

I believe this was costing the cooperative $1500 per month in lost revenue and that this was their sole motivation in “evicting” me. They chose to ignore their many other options.

Thank you very much,

Yours truly,



Richard Long

Date Issued: January 25, 2006
File: 3131
Indexed as: Long v. Creekview Housing Co-op and others, 2006 BCHRT 38
IN THE MATTER OF THE HUMAN RIGHTS CODE
R.S.B.C. 1996, c. 210 (as amended)
AND IN THE MATTER of a complaint before
the British Columbia Human Rights Tribunal
B E T W E E N:
Richard Long
COMPLAINANT
A N D:
Creekview Housing Co-operative, Laura Lowry and John Fellows
RESPONDENTS
REASONS FOR PRELIMINARY DECISION
APPLICATION TO DISMISS
Tribunal Member:
Lindsay M. Lyster
On his own behalf:
Richard Long
Counsel for the Respondents:
Patrick J. Crowther

Date Issued: October 20, 2006
File: 4046
Indexed as: Long v. B.C (Ministry of Health) and another, 2006 BCHRT 520
IN THE MATTER OF THE HUMAN RIGHTS CODE
R.S.B.C. 1996, c. 210 (as amended)
AND IN THE MATTER of a complaint before
the British Columbia Human Rights Tribunal
B E T W E E N:
Richard W. Long
COMPLAINANT
A N D:
Her Majesty the Queen in Right of the Province of British Columbia as Represented by the Ministry of Health and Vancouver Coastal Health Authority
RESPONDENTS
REASONS FOR PRELIMINARY DECISION
APPLICATIONS TO DISMISS
Tribunal Member:
Tonie Beharrell
No one appearing on behalf of the Complainant
Counsel for the Ministry of Health:
Stephanie A. Jackson
Counsel for the Vancouver Coastal Health Authority:
Robin J. Harper
Introduction
[1] Richard Long has filed a complaint against Her Majesty the Queen in Right of the Province of British Columbia as represented by the Ministry of Health (the "Ministry") and against the Vancouver Coastal Health Authority (the "VCHA"), alleging that they have discriminated against him with respect to a service on the ground of sex and physical disability, contrary to s. 8 of the Human Rights Code. The respondents deny that they have discriminated against Mr. Long, and have each filed an application to dismiss the complaint.
[2] The Ministry argues that the complaint as against it should be dismissed pursuant to ss. 27(1)(b) and (c) of the Code. The VCHA argues that the complaint against it should be dismissed pursuant to ss. 27(1)(c), (d) and (g) of the Code. The relevant provisions are as follows:
(1) A member or panel may, at any time after a complaint is filed and with or without a hearing, dismiss all or part of the complaint if that member or panel determines that any of the following apply:
…
(b) the acts or omissions alleged in the complaint or that part of the complaint do not contravene this Code;
(c) there is no reasonable prospect that the complaint will succeed;
(d) proceeding with the complaint or that part of the complaint would not
(i) benefit the person, group or class alleged to have been discriminated against, or
(ii) further the purposes of this Code;
…
(g) the contravention alleged in the complaint or that part of the complaint occurred more than 6 months before the complaint was filed unless the complaint or that part of the complaint was accepted under section 22 (3).
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[3] In this decision, I will first provide some background to the complaint and applications. I will then consider the Ministry’s dismissal application, followed by that of the VCHA.
Background to the Complaint and Applications
[4] In his complaint, Mr. Long states that he has advanced Multiple Sclerosis, and uses an electric wheelchair. He has significant physical limitations and states that, as a result, it takes him five times as long as the average person to do most tasks.
[5] In 2001, Mr. Long moved to the Creekview Cooperative ("Creekview"). Creekview provides a shared care model of care, enabling disabled clients at an extended care level to live in the community. The unit in which Mr. Long lived had six residents, each with their own room. The unit included a large common area, dining room and deck. The unit was staffed with caregivers 24 hours per day, and those caregivers provided Mr. Long and the other residents with personal care, assistance with meal preparation and housekeeping, bathing, and transferring.
[6] VCHA provides case management, home care nursing, and rehabilitation services to the Creekview residents, and provides funding to a private agency to provide home support to the residents. During the period of time relevant to the complaint, the agency in question was Community Home Support Services Association ("CHSSA"). In addition, VCHA provided funding to the BC Paraplegic Association to support clients in dealing with interpersonal issues and to act in an advocacy role for residents.
[7] Mr. Long makes two types of allegations. First, he alleges that the CHSSA care workers mistreated him and his property. Second, he alleges that VCHA failed to provide him with services that he should have been provided with. These allegations will be looked at in more detail below.
[8] Mr. Long alleges that this constitutes discrimination on the basis of physical disability. He also alleges that he was discriminated against on the basis of sex, as he is male and the caregivers are female, and he was told that he needed to treat women differently.
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[9] VCHA has a significantly different version of the events. In general, VCHA denies the allegations and asserts that, during his time at Creekview, Mr. Long had significant difficulties in dealing with his caregivers and his fellow residents. It states that, as a result of these difficulties, Mr. Long no longer resides at Creekview, but that VCHA made arrangements to provide him with individual housing and home support.
Analysis and Decision
[10] I will first consider the Ministry’s dismissal application, followed by that of the VCHA.
1. Ministry’s Dismissal Application
[11] The Ministry states that the complaint does not disclose any allegations with respect to it. The Ministry states that the VCHA is one of five regional health authorities, and is an entity unto itself. It is responsible for the hiring of staff, and the delivery of services to its clients. The Ministry states that the allegations in the complaint relate to the delivery of services by VCHA to Mr. Long, and do not include any allegations as against the Ministry.
[12] Mr. Long did not provide a response to the Ministry’s application.
[13] In my view, the Ministry’s dismissal application is most appropriately considered pursuant to s. 27(1)(b) of the Code.
[14] Determinations under s. 27(1)(b) are made on the basis of the allegations outlined on the face of the complaint, without reference to any alternative explanation or evidence which the respondents may put forward: Bailey v. B.C. (Min. of Attorney General) (No. 2), 2006 BCHRT 168, at para. 12. Therefore, for the purposes of this decision, I will assume that the factual allegations made by Mr. Long are true.
[15] Even on this basis, however, I find that there are no explicit allegations in the complaint as against the Ministry. The allegations relate to the relationship between Mr. Long and the VCHA; and between Mr. Long and the caregivers employed by CHSSA.
[16] I note that there is clearly a close connection between the Ministry and the VCHA. This relationship is outlined in the affidavit of Jeannie McKinnon. Ms.
3
McKinnon is a Director within the Performance Management and Improvement Division of the Ministry of Health, and serves as a main contact between the Ministry and VCHA in a number of areas related to the monitoring, evaluation and improvement of performance expectations.
[17] Ms. McKinnon states that the VCHA is one of five regional health authorities in British Columbia. These regional health authorities receive funding from the Ministry, but the provision of services to the public is controlled by the health authorities themselves. However, the health authorities are expected to provide services to the public in accordance with existing legislation, Ministry policy and direction. The Ministry and the VCHA have entered into a Performance Agreement, which sets out the relative roles and responsibilities of the Ministry and the VCHA.
[18] Ms. McKinnon states that none of the Ministry’s employees worked as caregivers at Creekview. Rather, VCHA contracted with a private agency to provide services. The Ministry does not oversee these caregivers: it does not retain their services, review their work, or conduct evaluations of them. The ability to hire and/or fire caregivers at Creekview rests exclusively with VCHA under the terms of its contract with the private agencies.
[19] In addition to complaints about his caregivers, and complaints about the services provided to him by VCHA, Mr. Long also alleges that he was not accepted into the Choice in Support for Independent Living program ("CSIL"). This is a program in which individuals are provided with funds, based on assessment of their needs, and hire their own caregivers without using an agency. Ms. McKinnon states that the criteria for eligibility for CSIL are established by the Ministry, but that the decision to accept or reject a client into CSIL is made by the individual health authorities.
[20] With respect to Mr. Long’s complaints relating to his caregivers, and to the services provided to him by VCHA, he does not make any allegations against the Ministry. For example, there are no allegations that the Ministry did not provide funding for required services, or did not ensure that existing legislation or its policies and directions were met.
4
[21] With respect to the allegations relating to the CSIL program, I note first that Mr. Long does not allege that VCHA was acting as the agent of the Ministry in this regard: see, for example, Brown v. B.C. (Ministry of Health), 2006 BCHRT 511. Further, and in any event, while Mr. Long alleges that he was not accepted into the CSIL program, he makes only a bare allegation with respect to this denial. He does not allege that the eligibility requirements for that program were in themselves discriminatory, that the application of those requirements was discriminatory, or provide any other particulars with respect to how the decision not to accept him into the program was discriminatory. In other words, Mr. Long does not provide a nexus between his physical disability, on the one hand, and the failure to accept him into the CSIL program, on the other.
[22] As a result, there are no allegations against the Ministry which could support a finding that it discriminated against Mr. Long. I therefore dismiss the complaint as against the Ministry pursuant to s. 27(1)(b) of the Code.
[23] In the alternative, and had Mr. Long established a link between the allegations in his complaint and the Ministry, I would dismiss the complaint against the Ministry pursuant to s. 27(1)(c) of the Code, for the reasons outlined below.
2. VCHA’s Application to Dismiss
[24] In my view, VCHA’s application to dismiss is most appropriately addressed under s. 27(1)(c) of the Code. In applying this section, the Tribunal must determine whether there is no reasonable prospect that the complaint will succeed. In making this determination, the Tribunal must consider and weigh all of the evidence before it: Bell v. Sherk, 2003 BCHRT 63.
[25] In this case, the evidence and information before me is contained in the complaint filed by Mr. Long, the Response to Complaint filed by the VCHA, and the VCHA’s application to dismiss. Included with the application to dismiss were affidavits from a number of individuals, namely:
• Shauna Doughty, a field supervisor with the Community Home Support Services Association ("CHSSA"), which is the private agency which held the contract to provide services to the residents of Creekview;
• Jan Fisher, the Director of Client Relations and Risk Management with VCHA;
5
• Joseph Theriault, an employee with PACT Consulting, a company which specializes in assisting with transition planning for disabled individuals moving into the community, and which was contracted with the VCHA to work at Creekview;
• Paul Dubé, the Executive Director of the CHSSA; and
• Barbara Munsie, an employee of the law firm representing VCHA, who attests to the various legal actions commenced by Mr. Long.
[26] With respect to the standard to be applied to an application to dismiss under s. 27(1)(c), this was articulated by the Tribunal in Wickham v. Mesa Contemporary Folk Art, 2004 BCHRT 134:
[t]he role of the Tribunal, on an application, is not to determine whether the Complainant has established a prima facie case of discrimination, nor to determine the bona fides of the response. Rather, it is an assessment, based on all of the material before the Tribunal, of whether there is a reasonable prospect the complaint will succeed …
The assessment is not whether there is a mere chance that the complaint will succeed, which would be the lowest threshold a Complainant would have to meet. Nor is it that there is a certainty that the complaint will succeed, which would be at the highest threshold a Complainant would have to meet. Rather, the Tribunal is assessing whether there is a reasonable prospect the complaint will succeed based on all the information available to it. (at paras. 11 and 12)
[27] In this context, I will deal first with Mr. Long’s allegations that he and his property were mistreated by his caregivers. I will then deal with Mr. Long’s allegations that VCHA withheld services to him which were given to others. In addition, I will consider the cumulative effect of Mr. Long’s allegations.

a. Mr. Long’s allegations with respect to his caregivers
[28] In his complaint, Mr. Long alleges that his caregivers slapped him on five occasions, that they stole fine art prints belonging to him, that they threatened him with physical abuse, that they isolated him, that they "used community property and services as their own", that they broke their professional standards by telling others confidential information about him, that they conspired with and took bribes from community members, that they lied about events, and that they damaged his medical equipment.
6
[29] The allegations made by Mr. Long are very serious. The behaviour which he describes, if it occurred, would be reprehensible and, in some cases, criminal. However, Mr. Long’s complaint is bereft of any supporting details or particulars.
[30] For its part, VCHA denies the allegations, and provides the following information with respect to Mr. Long’s residency at Creekview:
• During his residency in Creekview, Mr. Long had significant difficulties in dealing with the staff that cared for him, and also had many difficulties with fellow residents. Some of these difficulties appeared to arise from Mr. Long’s difficulty adapting to a shared model of care. Mr. Long would frequently call the police and fire department when he did not get what he wanted;
• The CHSSA caregivers had many concerns about Mr. Long, which they reported to their supervisor, Ms. Doughty. These included that Mr. Long: was intimidating staff, including with threats of litigation and deportation, asked staff to look at sexually suggestive material on his computer, was verbally abusive and used inappropriate (racist and sexist) language with staff, sexually harassed staff and, on one occasion, ran into a care worker with his power wheelchair. Ms. Doughty states that all of the staff eventually threatened to quit working at Creekview because of Mr. Long’s behaviour;
• Ms. Doughty states that Mr. Long made many complaints about the staff, and that she always investigated these complaints, but never found any evidence that staff had been abusive to him, or had damaged his equipment. The other residents at Creekview did not have complaints about the staff;
• In September 2003, Mr. Long alleged to Ms. Doughty and Mr. Dubé that he had been punched by a Licensed Practical Nurse during a transfer, and that this had occurred on two previous occasions. The alleged incident was investigated by VCHA and no evidence was found to support the complaint. The investigation report is attached to Ms. Fisher’s affidavit;
• Mr. Long complained to Ms. Doughty that one of his pictures or prints had been stolen. Ms. Doughty states that he told different stories about what he alleged had happened at different times. Ms. Doughty states that she advised Mr. Long to contact the police about his concern in this regard;
• A set of ground rules for staff dealing with Mr. Long was developed and PACT Consulting was retained to provide a life skills worker to work with Mr. Long and staff to create a more positive living and working environment. A committee was established, consisting of representatives from CHSSA, VCHA, and PACT, to address some of these issues and to ensure that Mr. Long could continue to live in the community in Creekview;
• Ms. Fisher states that, by 2005, VCHA was unable to fill vacancies in Creekview because of difficulties created by Mr. Long’s behaviours. The other residents wanted him to leave and were attempting to have him evicted, and the union to which the
7
caregivers belonged was threatening to have Creekview declared an unsafe worksite because of Mr. Long’s behaviours.
[31] As noted above, in determining an application pursuant to s. 27(1)(c) of the Code, the Tribunal must consider all of the information and evidence before it. In this case, as regards Mr. Long’s allegations against his caregivers, given the lack of any information in support of the allegations made by Mr. Long, the information provided by VCHA in its application to dismiss, and the absence of any response to that information from Mr. Long, I cannot find that there is a reasonable prospect that Mr. Long will succeed in establishing that he was discriminated against by VCHA as alleged. I therefore dismiss that portion of his complaint pursuant to s. 27(1)(c).
b. Mr. Long’s allegations relating to services denied him by the VCHA
[32] In his complaint, Mr. Long alleges that the VCHA denied him a variety of services, including range of motion exercises for his legs, information about government services which were readily available to him, advocacy, the CSIL program, and the opportunity to work with a professional theatre company. In addition, Mr. Long states that VCHA gave inane advice and help.
[33] In my view, Mr. Long’s allegations against the VCHA in this regard are vague and not adequately particularized. For example, with respect to the issue of advocacy, there are no details alleged in regard to the specific ways in which VCHA failed to advocate for Mr. Long. With respect to failure to provide information with respect to government services, there are no details about the services in question to which Mr. Long asserts he is entitled. With respect to Mr. Long’s allegations that he was not provided with proper care for his MS, there is no information with respect to how this was the case. With respect to the allegation that VCHA gave "inane advice and help", there are no further particulars about this allegation, or any indication of how it might be discriminatory.
[34] With respect to the issue of Mr. Long’s eligibility for the CSIL program, there is no indication of the way in which Mr. Long is alleging that the denial to provide him with this program is discriminatory. Ms. Fisher states in her affidavit that Mr. Long asked to go on the CSIL program in March 2005. Ms. Fisher told Mr. Long that because of the
8
many problems he had with staff at Creekview, it was unlikely that VCHA could support him as an employer. He was also advised in writing that he was not a suitable candidate for CSIL while he was residing in Creekview because the Creekview model was based on shared care and it was not possible to have one of the tenants on an individualized care and funding program, as this would affect the care provided to the other residents. As Mr. Long has not provided a response to the application, the only information before me with respect to Mr. Long’s application to the CSIL program is that provided by VCHA, and there is nothing in that information which would lead me to the conclusion that there is a reasonable prospect that Mr. Long could establish that the failure to allow him into that program was discriminatory.
[35] With respect to Mr. Long’s complaint about the range of motion exercises, the affidavits of Ms. Fisher and Mr. Theriault indicate that Mr. Long was assessed by a physiotherapist who was of the opinion that the exercises in question were clinically contraindicated. Mr. Long appealed this decision, and another assessment was done which resulted in his caregivers being trained to do some limited stretching. Mr. Long did not respond to this explanation.
[36] Further, with respect to both the issue of proper care for MS and the range of motion exercises, I note that these are issues of clinical medical or professional judgement. The question of the standard of medical care provided to a patient when a doctor exercises their medical judgement, as long as that judgement is exercised in a non-discriminatory manner, and any disabilities are accommodated, is not an issue for the Tribunal, see: McDonald v. O’Malley and (Minister of Public Safety and Solicitor General), 2005 BCHRT 154 at para. 33 and Egan v. Dr. Kennedy and others, 2006 BCHRT 15 at para. 20. As noted below, I find that, on all of the information before me, there is no reasonable prospect that Mr. Long would be able to establish that medical decisions with respect to his condition were made in a discriminatory manner, or that his disability was not accommodated by VCHA.
[37] With respect to Mr. Long’s assertions about participation with a professional theatre company, Ms. Doughty attests that Mr. Long advised her that he wanted to attend a theatre group, which would involve a change in his routine and would require more
9
staff on duty to accommodate this request. Ms. Doughty states that she arranged to have the extra staff available, and told Mr. Long to let her know in advance of the times that he wanted to go so that she could put the extra staff in place. Ms. Doughty states that Mr. Long then never contacted her to let her know that he wanted to attend the theatre group.
[38] With respect to Mr. Long’s allegations that there were cutbacks to staffing at Creekview while he was residing there, the respondents specifically deny that this was the case. Mr. Dubé states that from the time that CHSSA started providing care services at Creekview in April 2003 until Mr. Long left Creekview, there were no cutbacks in staffing. In any event, Mr. Long does not indicate the manner in which the cutbacks in staffing, if they did occur, would be discriminatory.
[39] Finally, with respect to Mr. Long’s complaint that he was discriminated against on the basis of sex, Mr. Long alleges all the caregivers were women, and that he was advised that he needed to treat his female caregivers differently. With respect to the gender of the caregivers at Creekview, VCHA states that the residents of Creekview, including Mr. Long, had expressed a preference for female caregivers. With respect to the instructions to Mr. Long that he treat female caregivers differently, VCHA does not deny that this statement was made, but it notes that the context for the statement was the complaints by caregivers regarding verbal and physical harassment, including sexual harassment, by Mr. Long.
[40] As the Tribunal has frequently stated, the fact that there are different versions of events put forward by the parties, and the fact that credibility is in issue is not alone a sufficient reason to deny an application to dismiss: see Horner v. Concord Security Corporation, 2003 BCHRT 86 at para. 29. In this case, though credibility issues do arise, given the vagueness of Mr. Long’s initial complaint, and his failure to respond to the facts asserted by VCHA in its application to dismiss, I cannot find that there is a reasonable prospect that Mr. Long will succeed in establishing that VCHA discriminated against him on the basis of sex or disability.
c. Conclusion with respect to VCHA’s application to dismiss
[41] Above, I have come to the conclusion that there is no reasonable prospect that Mr. Long will be able to establish his allegations as against his caregivers, or his allegations
10
that VCHA denied him services that should have been provided to him. I also find that, on a global basis, there is no reasonable prospect that Mr. Long will succeed in his complaint as against VCHA, and I therefore dismiss the whole of that complaint pursuant to s. 27(1)(c).
Conclusion
[42] As a result of the above, the complaint as against the Ministry is dismissed pursuant to s. 27(1)(b) of the Code. The complaint as against VCHA is dismissed pursuant to s. 27(1)(c) of the Code.
Tonie Beharrell, Tribunal Member
11

December 3, 2006

SECOND LETTER FIVE MONTHS LATER


Richard Long
#105 – 5650 Oak Street
Vancouver, B.C.
V6M 2V6


Hon. Carole Taylor
Minister of Finance
430 North Tower, Oakridge Centre 650 West 41st AveVancouver, BC V5Z 2M9


Dear Ms. Taylor,

I wrote your office in August and provided the same basic information.

Nothing has changed, which angers me because both provincial and federal governments are reporting record surpluses.

My only sin is being unfortunate enough to have multiple sclerosis and no family members. I feel my quality of life is being sacrificed to pay for other things by both levels of government.


I am a 63 year old with man with Advanced Multiple Sclerosis and have many other health problems. I want you to know how some of your Ministries have been handling my and presumably other persons’, health dilemmas.

At present, my care is provided by Bayshore Home Support Services, a privately owned Canadian company. I receive approximately 361 hours of Home Care per month.

I estimate that Bayshore Home Services receives $40 for every hour of service they provide, which equals $14,440 per month.

I have previously been on a programme known as CSIL (Choices for Support in Independent Living,) which would enable me to choose and hire trained Care Attendants.

Because Bayshore has a lot of overhead costs, and on the CSIL program I would not have nearly the same costs, I estimate I could operate at the same level of service for about $7,000 per month, including all benefits. A tremendous saving for the taxpayer.

The CSIL programme would also allow me to sponsor a trained caregiver from another country, adding to our supply of trained caregivers which we desperately need as our premier has recently admitted.

Another issue I have is with The Ministry of Employment and Income Assistance, “Medical Services Only” programme, which I have applied for repeatedly.

And been repeatedly denied.

My sole income is my Canada Pension Plan Disability payments of $972.50 per month.

I must pay all my own medical expenses that aren’t covered by Fair PharmaCare.

I am eligible for this programme despite my income being barely over the threshold because I have several life threatening conditions, which I have outlined in my applications.

I would be in a much better position if I had never worked a day in my life.

I have redeemed all my RRSP’s, run up extensive lines of credit, and liquidated all my assets.

There is nothing left.

I tell you this honestly and openly and I am appealing to you as my MLA for any help you can provide.

Thank you very much.

Yours truly,





Richard Long
Email: richardlong@telus.net
Telephone: 604 301-1606