Lost in translation

When I was an idealistic young probation officer back in the – gulp – 1980s, it was common to voice a strong objection to the word “client,” preferring the less patronising “service-user.” Such linguistic niceties were, even then, often attacked by politicians and newspaper editors; it is amusing to see many of my – then progressive – contemporaries excoriating today’s young people for naïve political correctness.

When the first wave of COVID-19 struck, I was running a care organisation myself, dealing with immensely vulnerable residents, many of whom, yes, had eye health needs, but all of whom had many needs beyond that

I was struck again by the different way sector professionals treat those we are meant to care for in emails to my inbox about the difficulties in providing domiciliary care during the current wave of the pandemic.

Understandably enough, many of the emails were expressing irritation and frustration about the obstacles being imposed by care organisations which made it difficult for them to get easy access to patients in need of eye examinations and treatment. Excessive paperwork, an unwillingness to accept optometrists as primary care professionals, and outright bans on visits: all translated to time wasted, higher costs, and – potentially – loss of income.

I truly sympathise. Much of what is going on is simply not defensible and we are fighting hard alongside members facing illogicality and intransigence.

Things have changed since the first wave. Vaccinations, boosters, adequate supplies of personal protective equipment and the reduced threat represented by Omicron – all have shifted the risk matrix

When the first wave of COVID-19 struck, I was running a care organisation myself, dealing with immensely vulnerable residents, many of whom, yes, had eye health needs, but all of whom had many needs beyond that. And, with COVID-19 raging outside our sites and our residents at immediate risk of death from the pandemic (that is not an exaggeration; I had to watch infected residents struggle and die), we could not take the risk of opening our doors to our local domiciliary optometrist, no matter how eloquently they argued their case.

Of course, things have changed since the first wave. Vaccinations, boosters, adequate supplies of personal protective equipment and the reduced threat represented by Omicron – all have shifted the risk matrix. But some of the previous challenges remain, including acute staffing shortages in the care sector and confusion about what regulations apply to what professional dealing with what client base. (The residential care rules for children, for example, are very different from those for adults). Given that picture, am I surprised if some care providers choose to prioritise dealing with the threat of COVID-19 over the threat of poor eye care? No, frankly, I am not.

This is not special pleading for care providers or a coded message to our members providing domiciliary care to stop arguing for change. It is a plea for understanding. We may, for the most part, speak a common language, but we need to match that with the ability to put ourselves in our fellow professionals’ shoes. We need to be able to use that common language to its best effect.