Cruel to Be Kind: Saying no can save a child’s life. Cathy Glass

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СКАЧАТЬ to live with strangers, albeit well-meaning ones. I was expecting tears and sleepless nights at the start. But usually by the end of the first week, when the child is more familiar with their foster family and the new routine and is seeing their parents regularly at contact, they are less anxious.

      Once we were home I made the children a cold drink and a snack and then I went with them into the garden to unlock the shed where I kept the outdoor toys. It’s part of every foster carer’s safer caring policy that sheds and similar outbuildings are kept locked. We took out a selection of toys for them to play with, including Adrian’s bicycle, the spare bike for Max, Paula’s tricycle, the doll’s pram, skateboard and a football. The mini goalposts were still up at the end of the garden and the covered sandpit sat closer to the house. Adrian immediately began practising goal shots while Paula rode her tricycle. I returned indoors to prepare dinner so we could eat as soon as Jo and Jill had left. They were expected around five o’clock and from experience I was anticipating them staying for at least an hour, possibly much longer, when placing a child.

      I could see the children from the kitchen window and as I worked, I glanced up regularly to make sure they were all right. My thoughts went repeatedly to poor little Max who at this moment was being told by his social worker that he wouldn’t be going home. What a dreadful shock – to go to school in the morning as normal and then not be allowed home at night. My heart went out to him. How was he coping?

      About half an hour later, hot from playing, Adrian and Paula came in and sat in the cool living room where Toscha, our cat, was already spread out on the floor by the toy box. I’d put some games and toys in there in case Max didn’t want to go outside. Most children can’t resist toys, and Adrian and Paula began doing some puzzles. After about ten minutes, just as I’d finished preparing the dinner for later, the doorbell rang and it was Jill. She greeted me with a warm smile and, ‘Hi, Cathy, how are you?’

      ‘We’re good, thank you. Would you like a drink?’

      ‘A glass of water, please.’

      I asked her to come with me into the kitchen, as I needed to tell her something. She called hi to Adrian and Paula as she passed the living-room door and once in the kitchen I quickly told her of the phone call I’d received from Max’s mother.

      ‘That’s not on,’ she said. ‘I’ll raise it with Jo. She should have asked you or me first before she gave out your details. She’ll need to speak to his mother and explain that’s not acceptable. Are you all right taking Max to the hospital to visit her?’ Foster carers are expected to transport the child or children they look after to and from contact.

      ‘Yes, although I’ll have to take Adrian and Paula with me. I can’t leave them with a sitter every time. Do we know how long Max will be seeing his mother for each evening? Visiting is two till eight.’

      ‘I don’t know yet. We’ll raise it with Jo, and also find out if you have to stay on the ward with him. There’s a café in the hospital with a children’s play area. It would be better if you could wait there.’

      ‘Yes, thanks. That would be useful. I doubt if there’d be time for me to come home.’

      I handed her the glass of water and we went into the living room and settled on the sofa and chair. Jill asked Adrian and Paula how they were.

      ‘Very well, thank you,’ Adrian said politely. Paula went into shy mode and came over and sat on my lap, even though she knew Jill from previous visits.

      ‘Are you looking forward to meeting Max?’ Jill asked, making conversation and trying to put them at ease.

      Paula managed a small nod, while Adrian said a rather formal, ‘Yes, thank you.’

      Jill smiled. ‘It’s a lovely day,’ she said, glancing towards the garden.

      ‘They’re hoping Max will want to play outside,’ I said. The patio doors were slightly open and through them came the warm air and the sounds of summer.

      ‘I’m sure he will,’ Jill said. ‘You’ve got a nice big garden to run and play in.’

      A few minutes later the doorbell rang. ‘That’ll be Jo with Max,’ I said, lifting Paula from my lap and standing. Toscha also looked up.

      Paula slipped her hand into mine and came with me, while Adrian stayed with Jill. I opened the front door with a warm, welcoming smile. ‘Hello, I’m Cathy.’

      ‘Hello, Cathy, I’m Jo, and this is Max.’

      My gaze went to the child standing beside Jo and I had to hide my shock. Dressed in a light blue shirt and navy trousers from his school uniform, he was sweating profusely. Beads of sweat stood on his forehead and ran down his face. His hair glistened and his shirt was wringing wet. He had one hand resting on the wall to support himself, as an elderly person might, and he was struggling to catch his breath. Yes, it was a warm day, but that didn’t account for Max’s obvious distress. What was responsible – and what no one had thought to mention – was that Max was dreadfully overweight.

      ‘He needs to sit down,’ Jo said, coming in. ‘He’s got an inhaler in here somewhere.’ She began undoing the school bag she was holding as Max took hold of the doorframe and heaved himself over the doorstep into the hall.

      ‘Sit down here, love, until you get your breath,’ I said, directing him to the chair we kept in the hall by the telephone.

      He dropped into it as Jo took his inhaler from his school bag, shook it and passed it to him. ‘Do you know how to use it?’ she asked.

      Max nodded, gave it another shake, put it to his mouth, took a deep breath, held it and then exhaled. Jo looked as worried as I was.

      ‘I didn’t know he had an inhaler,’ I said to her. The foster carer should be told of any medical conditions during the first phone call about the child.

      ‘I didn’t know either until I collected him,’ Jo said, clearly stressed. Max took a second breath from his pump.

      ‘Has he got asthma then?’ I asked. Clearly I needed to know so I could be prepared.

      ‘I’m assuming so. I’ll find out when I see Caz later.’

      Max had administered the second pump and now returned the inhaler to Jo. ‘It’s just two pumps?’ she asked him.

      ‘Yes,’ he said, his voice husky.

      Jill appeared at the end of the hall. ‘Is everything all right?’ I could tell from the look on her face that she hadn’t been informed of Max’s asthma or obesity either. Paula had taken a few steps back and was looking at Max from a short distance, very concerned. In addition to the drama of him needing his asthma pump and Jo’s and my concern, this clearly wasn’t the child Paula had been expecting. He wasn’t simply chubby or what one would describe as a bit overweight; my guess was that he was at least twice the size he should have been, overfed to the point where it was obviously affecting his health and quality of life.

      ‘Shall we go into the living room?’ I suggested to Max now his breathing had settled. ‘I’ll fetch you a drink.’

      The poor child heaved himself off the chair and not so much walked as waddled down the hall towards Jill. I always try not to judge, but seeing him in so much obvious discomfort, I thought that, assuming he didn’t СКАЧАТЬ