We’re Still Disabled in an Emergency: Support During Bereavement

“it is often precisely in an emergency, when we have no option but to engage with services, and no opportunity to pause and recover, that those services provide the fewest support needs by default.”

Welcome Back to WhatWeNeed

It’s been a couple of months since the last blog. I am delighted that we are now returning from summer and normal, regular service will be resumed. But I want to use this edition to explain a little about what has been occupying me over the summer. Because it is so relevant to the work we do at WhatWeNeed, and illustrative of the importance of making sure that support needs are provided as standard.

One of the things I find myself saying most frequently to those who run services is that we don’t stop being disabled in an emergency. And yet it is often precisely in an emergency, when we have no option but to engage with services, and no opportunity to pause and recover, that those services provide the fewest support needs by default.

My father died towards the end of June, and since then I have felt as though I have been living through a demonstration of that principle. I want to use this piece to reflect on which services I have dealt with, and the ways in which they have, and have not, provided the support I need. And what the consequences of that have been. 

It will, I hope, provide food for thought for each area. But also for us to think about this kind of “emergency” scenario more generally. We need to think about those situations where interactions between a cluster of sectors and industries all happen together and around the same event or cause. And consider how we might not just help each sector to provide support by default but work across those sectors to minimise the number of times people have to ask for essential help.

I won’t go into overshare too much, but my father’s last decade was probably more complicated than many. After my mother died, he lived with his new partner though they didn’t marry. Sadly, she died a few years ago but he was able to carry on living in the house they shared. Though not for long, as he subsequently went into dementia care. 

More Communications With More Providers, Most of Them Unfamiliar

I mention that only because it explains that I have had to deal with not one but two sets of lawyers, the first service provider I will mention. My spouse and I have had to pack and clear his things, but were only able to do so when his late partner’s lawyers were present in the house his late partner owned, meaning we had many 300 mile round trips for only a couple of hours of sorting at a time. As the final step was to remove his belongings, we also had to contact van hire companies, which has very specific complications best left for another day.

Lawyers operate under very strict regulation. That includes money laundering regulation which means they need to be absolutely certain with whom they are dealing. That does mean an element of visual contact (a Teams call) in many cases. It also means I had to provide a lot of documentation to prove who I am. I am lucky I am able to do so. A few years ago I wouldn’t have been. Many can’t. That aside, I was able to deal by email, and make appointments at times that worked. I think the legal profession is still unaware that many of the people it interacts with have support needs, but I was not negatively affected in general.

Second, in respect to those same circumstances, I had to deal with the care home in which he died. I have been dealing with them for a year, so this is easier than it might have been. But during that year they still took a lot of training. It was a long time before we initially had contact because they tried calling and calling a telephone number we just don’t use, and wouldn’t email. Even when I made contact by emailing them and explaining, they still notified me of incidents around my Dad’s care primarily by phone for a long time, until eventually they learned that calling simply meant I would send an email asking them to email me. Much like one’s GP, this felt like a case of having to train people in one’s needs rather than having them by default. But they were at least trainable.

Companies Whose Business Is Empathy Did Best At Accommodating Support

Funeral and associated care was the best to deal with. There was only one negative point, when they sent me a chivvying email to set a funeral date quickly. At that point I was at my absolute limit, the spoon drawer empty and my executive function through the floor. Having to compose a response that was polite but firm explaining I was exhausted, and reminding them I also care for a disabled spouse, added to the exhaustion. And I could sense their judgement. I wasn’t being respectful enough to the dead to do it “properly.” It was a small blot. But a blot nonetheless.

Local government was hard. Specifically, registering the death. The law requires this to be done in person. Again, I understand there are very good reasons for this. But for many, especially when a loved one lives hundreds of miles away, as in this case, that could be almost impossible. At the least it means the clock ticks away. 

Dealing with financial institutions was interesting. This obviously is where I have most experience. And it is a sector that promotes itself as progressive in this area. Indeed, compared to many, it is.

Fortunately, my Dad banked with the same institution I do. Had he not done so, I think things would have been a lot harder. As it was, it turns out that, as I have witnessed across many banks, the support that can be provided for general banking is often not available in specific departments. This turned out to be true for the bereavement department. The only two options were for telephone and post. When I asked about alternatives and explained I was disabled and the phone was very difficult, I was told that I could use their (they are not with Support Hub – yet) super whizzy support system to nominate someone to speak for me. 

I don’t have someone. 

But that’s not the point. I don’t lack capacity. I am not unable to communicate. And I shouldn;’t have to divulge private details about my Dad’s finances to someone else in order to discuss them with his bank in my capacity as executor. This “get someone to do it for you as default” approach is exactly the kind of thing that erodes the autonomy and self-confidence of disabled people. It is the reason I no longer put myself forward for many opportunities. It is the reason I feel uncomfortable talking myself up. Because if you don’t even give me the chance to communicate for myself what does that say about your opinion of the ideas I have to communicate.

Local government and utilities proved easier to deal with. I had my Dad’s bills, and the customer reference number plus the notification of death was enough to initiate email communication in each case.

HMRC proved the hardest of all. My Dad’s latest letter was a large fine for not filing a tax return. Fortunately, the “tell us once” that I had signed when I picked up the death certificate eventually filtered through and the next penalty notice was sent to me. Whereas most institutions, even the DWP who want overpayment of payment pension repaid, at least start with “we are sorry to hear of your loss” HMRC launched straight in with telling me how serious it was and demanding a large fine in 30 days if the tax return wasn’t filed.

Of course, my Dad had a good reason not to file a tax return, what with being dead. But even before that, I figured being in dementia care probably counted as one of the reasons on their legitimate excuse list. The problem was how to tell them that. Again, just a phone number. Which meant I eventually dealt with it 5 weeks after I would have liked to have done. Because that is the first time I had the spoons accumulated to make a fully scripted outgoing call (assuming nothing veered off script). 

Improving Telephone Queues

Which brings me to a key support need. I can make some calls. Outgoing only. I can do it once in a day. First thing in the morning only. And about once a week. I need to take a day of annual leave to do so. This, of course, in itself, is a tangible foreseeable harm that companies simply don’t acknowledge. But waiting in a queue, especially an indeterminate length queue, drains the spoon jar at pace. I waited 34 minutes. I was almost non-verbal by the time I got through as a result. So I struggled to say what I needed in a way I wouldn’t have done had I got through straightaway. 

I have three points on this.

  1. Interrupting the jingle for a recorded message is a nightmare. Every time it happens my first thought is that this might be the person I’ve been waiting for. Which is disruptive. And it means I can’t put the phone down and know that I need to wait for the faint music to stop as my cue. Support need: either don’t use pre-recorded messages while waiting, or give an option at the start to opt out of hearing them
  2. Support need: if I am required to make a telephone call, provide a means for me to be connected straightaway or when the first operator is available. It’s not queue-jumping. It can often make the difference between being verbal and non-verbal
  3. Inclusive design: tell people what number they are in the queue

Some general conclusions to follow those specifics. I don’t have family or friends who are able to assist in many circumstances I find myself facing. Others are fortunate enough that they do. But when it comes to the death of someone whose next of kin you are, that is little help. 

There are many things that only I could do, and many organizations that would only communicate with me. It is therefore imperative that these organizations provide multiple communication channels. Again, an exercise I run in workshops is to ask people “How do you think this will play out?” when they fail to do so. 

I think the answer is, there are some situations in which firms expect to find people who are vulnerable (problem debt, utility provision in an emergency, handling benefits claims); and some in which they don’t (wealth management is one I often cite, and I would include being executor for someone’s estate). 

In part this is because people just don’t think about disabled people as anything other than potential victims. But, of course, we are everywhere. And second, there is still a lot of general confusion between needing support, especially around communication, and lacking capacity. The moment you say you can’t receive phone calls, people’s tone of voice changes. It was very telling that when I said this to my bank as I discussed accessing my Dad’s accounts, their response was to say, “You can nominate someone to talk for you” rather than to provide a means by which I could communicate for myself.

New and Improved: how changing your platform or product creates problems for autistic consumers

“Improved” doesn’t mean “better.”

“Improved” doesn’t mean “better.” Improved is change. And change in and of itself is hard for many of us. Even if the new thing is so incredible it does things seamlessly, securely and makes me a cup of tea while it’s at it, it’s still new. I will still need time to get used to it. And I will still feel genuine distress when I realise what I am looking at is not what I am used to looking at.

Chris, teacher and researcher

To coincide with Autism Awareness Month, this month’s blog is from autistic teacher and researcher, Chris, who explains one of the most commonly faced difficulties for autistic consumers: change. Specifically, updates.

Everything we do here is built by lived experience, but if you are reading this representing a company, remember that Autism Awareness Month is a divisive and emotive subject in the autistic community, as awareness days, weeks, and months are in many communities. Be very careful if you are putting events on or using hashtags on your socials. And follow the basic principles. Speak to autistic people. If you are seeking advice, which is always a good idea, make sure you pay people appropriately for their expertise. Read and listen to the community. And don’t talk without acting.

About Our Blog Series

Welcome to the second in our monthly series of blogs looking at the support that would enable people with accessibility needs to use everyday services with as little disruption to their lives as others do (or at least, as little disruption as possible).

Each entry in this series has been written by someone with lived experience of a particular support need.

Get Involved

We invite any service provider, from retailers to delivery firms; from financial services to utilities and everything in between, to consider how their service meets the needs presented.

We welcome comments, which will be moderated in accordance with our code of conduct. We especially invite insights from people with similar needs, or different needs relating to similar situations. And from organisations who are able to meet these needs (sharing how they do so) or who would like to consider how they might do so.

If you would be interested in contributing to this blog, please email info@whatweneed.support. We pay £150 for a post (or can make alternative arrangements such as donations on your behalf if you are not able to receive payment because of the effect on your benefits).

If you are interested in the work we do at WhatWeNeed.Support, please visit our home page. Or contribute to our request for support needs to add to our cross-sector lists, either through the comments on individual list pages, or by emailing info@whatweneed.support.

We also invite you to sign up to our mailing list by clicking this link so that you can find out about the support needs we are discussing, about events we are holding, about ways of getting involved in what we are doing, and about important developments in helping those with support needs.

Finally, if you would like to get involved in WhatWeNeed.Support’s events, as someone who has support needs, or someone who works for an organization that puts support needs into place, we would love to hear from you through our email info@whatweneed.support

With that, here is our fourth post, from teacher and researcher, Chris (name changed)

New and Improved

Most of us will know the feeling of looking forward to a favourite food only to experience a sinking feeling when we find out the recipe is “new and improved”, which we all know means “inexplicably made to taste nothing like it used to.”

For most people, this is disappointing, or briefly upsetting. But for many of us who are autistic, change can be incredibly distressing, and disabling to the extent that we become unable to use things that had previously been available to us.

When the thing that changes is the way the screen looks when you log onto your bank account, then the inability to use things that have changed can have catastrophic effects.

I know that the difficulty I face with change is something that’s almost impossible to explain. People who find change awkward or inconvenient will think “but I manage. Why can’t you?” And people who barely notice, or for whom an improved functionality more than makes up for any unfamiliarity, the reaction, even when not expressed as such is clearly, “Stop being such a snowflake.”

So I don’t expect you to understand what I mean. But I can explain how it affects me. And I can tell you that change causes the kind of distress most people would associate with an extreme loss or with physical pain. I can tell you that even change that makes things objectively better has the same disabling effect as change that makes things worse. And I can ask you to believe me. And to listen to what I say I need as a result, and do your best to meet that need. Even if you don’t understand from the inside why you are making it.

So before I tell you about my bank, I’ll tell you about my cutlery.

I’ve used the same set of cutlery since I was a student 30 years ago. It has red handles and red is my colour. The knife has a nice pointy tip that means I can pick up bits of cheese on it. It’s not expensive cutlery. It’s not posh cutlery. It’s fairly knackered cutlery. But it’s my cutlery. If I go somewhere else, I can eat with someone else’s cutlery. But it feels wrong, and I have to remind myself that it’s just once. That I will be able to use mine next time. If I’m at home and my cutlery isn’t clean, or my spouse brings me food with a different fork, I can’t eat it. Sometimes I sit and look at food I don’t know how to eat and feel confused. Or sob. At times I have thrown the plate, food, and wrong fork onto the floor and screamed. (These are reactions autistic people will recognise as shutdown and meltdown).

Originally the set had 4 of everything (though there’s a small machining error in one of the forks so I can’t use that one). Now there are fewer items. I know that one day it will wear out altogether and I will have no choice but to find a new set.

Of course, I know in my head that this makes no sense. So when people try to explain it to me as though they’re teaching me something I don’t already know they just come across as patronising and not listening. Knowing it in my head doesn’t stop my teeth being set on edge, all my senses feeling wrong, and my mind just going nope. And that doesn’t help me eat.

What I have learned from decades of experience, even before I realised what the reason was when I was diagnosed autistic in my mid 40s, is that I can manage the situation by giving myself a long time to get used to living with something new while I still have the old to use day to day, while slowly (and by slowly I mean over the course of months and years) transitioning what I use.

I bought new cutlery 6 years ago, after months of searching for something that felt “least wrong.” I can now use it once or twice a week.

This isn’t just about cutlery, of course. It’s everything I use on a regular basis. When I needed a new laptop because the old one was so slow I was almost unusable, the new one had to sit by my sofa unused before I could even open it, let alone turn it on and face the new layout.

And that’s where all this is relevant to services. A new layout is just as distressing and difficult to manage as a new thing.

In a world where technology moves incredibly quickly, this makes it almost impossible to keep up with essential updates to the platforms I rely on.

What is really galling is when updates are made that are not essential, and which I have no choice about when or whether to implement. And when those updates come from my bank, it creates the very real likelihood that I will be unable to pay bills on time even though I have the money to do so.

A change happened like this recently, with no notice. I couldn’t access my accounts for several weeks and finally preparing myself to do so and then navigating a layout that felt both alien and utterly unintuitive wiped me out for days before and days after. Fortunately I didn’t miss a vital payment. That was sheer luck of the timing.

Banking is hard enough for me at any time. Other services, like electricity providers, have become unusable altogether. Passwords are already difficult, requiring memory of something that is by its nature not meant to be memorable. That step alone makes using a service hard. When I can’t see what I’m typing that becomes exceptionally hard. When I am asked to change a password for the sake of security both harder still and infuriating because, like the whole of what I’m writing about here, change is distressing. And unexpected change hits me like a deep physical pain. And increasingly firms want even more steps that are almost impossible to juggle and require hours even days of preparing for, like multi factor authentication (which always requires a second device, more than doubling the difficulty, because otherwise the risk of pressing the wrong button is too great). And all the time “helpful” pop-ups and cookie reminders keep pinging and both frying my brain at the very moment I need to concentrate and increasing the chance of a wrong keystroke.

I wish banks understood that sometimes trying to “keep me safe” makes it impossible to access my money. Which takes a tiny risk of who knows what and transforms it into a very high risk I will end up credit blacklisted, even fined. How is that protecting me?

My problem with all this is with executive function. This is a concept that is almost impossible for me to explain. It’s even harder for others to understand (in part because it’s so hard to explain). Whatever I say just makes me sound lazy or difficult. The label ADHD and autistic people like me spent much of our childhoods having being given by teachers and parents and peers alike.

Poor executive function can mean seeing every single step in a process, even the ones that are totally invisible to most people, and having to learn how to do each one of them, and which order to do them in, without understanding why one follows another.

It can mean that things disappear completely from your awareness the moment you can’t see them.

It can mean sitting and looking at something you know should be easy and feeling as though you are staring at an insurmountable obstacle.

It means knowing, much of the time, most days, that people don’t get it, that they don’t see why you can’t “just do…” and it means you don’t know why the thing that should be so easy feels so impossible, and hating yourself for not knowing.

It means devoting much of your life to learning systems and workarounds for things that most people do without a second thought.

On the occasion in question, having finally logged in to my dashboard to move money to my credit cards, I was confronted with something completely unexpected. And unclear. Instead of having the balances and transactions of each account laid out as had always been the case previously, I found I now had to click through to access each. And then click back. Which in itself is an extra layer of complexity. But which I was being expected to do on top of the shock of finding the change in the first place.

If anyone who has a website or a platform is reading this, here’s what I really want you to understand. “Improved” doesn’t mean “better.” Improved is change. And change in and of itself is hard for many of us. Even if the new thing is so incredible it does things seamlessly, securely and makes me a cup of tea while it’s at it, it’s still new. I will still need time to get used to it. And I will still feel genuine distress when I realise what I am looking at is not what I am used to looking at.

It will take me time to adjust. I will have to learn the new thing. I will have to get familiar and maybe, eventually, comfortable with it.

So please don’t update the way things work without a very good reason. And I mean really good.

When you have to change things, give me lots of notice. And give me accurate notice (tell me the date it will change. Do not change before that date).

Ideally, show me the new look long before I have to use it. Let me look around, get used to it. Get familiar with it.

When you do introduce it, I’d love it if you could let me carry on using the old version for a while. Or even let me go back to the old version, with a simple click, if I get distressed and cannot use the new.

Of course, tell me when I will no longer be able to use the old version. And do not stop me using it before then.

And if I miss payments or actions in a window after you have introduced something new, offer people like me an amnesty period. Do not punish us for being disabled by your failure to make changes in an accessible way.

Support needs covered in this piece

If you make changes or updates to your platform, give me notice.

If you make changes or updates to your platform, show me in advance what the new layout will look like.

If you make changes or updates to your platform, allow me to continue using the old layout alongside the new.

Key elements of Accessible Design covered in this piece

Update your platform as few times as possible.

When considering updates to your platform, prioritise function over appearance.

Communicate any changes you will be making well in advance of making them, and always give as accurate a timetable as possible of when changes will occur, including when new layouts and functions will be introduced and when old ones will be withdrawn.