Kay has cancer. She receives “Palliative and Support Care”. She is hoping to get better and return to teaching – she’s a wonderful teacher, caring and empathetic, with great insight into children’s educational needs – however, unfortunately, this is not a likely outcome. She’s still quite young. Death at her age is not easy to face or accept.

But – why must bureaucracy make it so much harder for everyone involved with a loved one on this final journey?

Kay has moved back into her widowed mother’s home – temporarily, she hopes. She sleeps on a hospital bed in the living room. Her mother has put her own life on hold to be the primary carer for her daughter – day and night, as needed. It’s what mothers do.

Her mother takes her to medical and hospital appointments. At present Kay is having a few weeks’ respite from her chemotherapy treatments, until the next round of tests indicates what further treatment will be needed. She is not well enough to go out.

She needs one simple thing – a Disabled Parking Permit so her mother can park as close as possible to the venues for Kay’s medical appointments.

Kay’s mother went to the Service Centre, on Kay’s behalf, to get the special permit, taking all the necessary completed paperwork and Kay’s Driver’s Licence for identification purposes.

Permit refused. Kay had to go in herself so her ID could be verified. Without parking in a spot reserved for disabled people, Kay could not do this. She could not walk the extra distance to the building from the carpark. Kay’s mother explained several times. Rejected. Kay would need a letter from her doctor, and her cancer specialist. Her mother took these in. Rejected again.

Kay’s Driver’s Licence photo (which is also used for the Disabled Parking Permit) was outdated. The reason? When she had renewed her licence, the Service Centre insisted on her using the same photo, as they were too busy to take another. “The Computer” now said her photo was too old. Kay must go in herself, and have another photo taken.

Impossible. For all the reasons above. Her mother’s explanations and pleas fell on deaf ears. Another letter on official letterhead from her doctors explaining why she could not go in for a new photo was needed. Consider also that a new photo would show her as being completely bald. If she recovered – or if her hair did start to grow back, this recent photo would be inconsistent with her appearance.

Her mother, approaching eighty years old, made all these extra trips to doctors and the Service Centre. She could only do these things when a Palliative Care volunteer came to her home to be with her daughter, offering respite care. During these times she had to do shopping and all other errands. No time for a break or appropriate self-care.

Finally, the permit was approved, and arrived. They were thrilled. Then shocked, as they read “Exempt from photo”. She did not need it. Did they only over-ride “the system” AFTER some-one had been made to jump through all these hoops? Only after all those precious hours were wasted?

Where is the common sense? Where is the logic?

Why is it not possible to offer a Disabled Parking Permit automatically when one receives the initial diagnosis of cancer, and has a letter from a cancer specialist to verify the authenticity of the request? It could be time-limited to one or two years with automatic extension if necessary. 

Why is that so hard? Why are people such sticklers for “the rules”? Where is the compassion?

And why is it called the “Service Centre”? The name does not seem apt.