Greig and Jaimie-Lee
Content Warning: These stories are about violence, abuse, neglect and exploitation and may include references to suicide or self-harming behaviours. They may contain graphic descriptions and strong language and may be distressing. Some narratives may be about First Nations people who have passed away. If you need support, please see Contact & support.
Greig contracted a life-threatening illness several years ago. He now lives with an acquired brain injury (ABI) and uses a wheelchair.
‘We both went from working full-time overnight to both of us not working at all and surviving and trying to keep our family going,’ his wife Jaimie-Lee told the Royal Commission. ‘You know, [with the] kids going through pretty significant trauma, lots of different things happening.’
Greig spent several months attending a hospital rehabilitation unit, where he was often neglected.
‘He would be at the hospital for five hours for treatment, but nobody would organise food or medication or drinks for him. And this is a man with quadruple amputations … and you have to get angry and be his full-on advocate.’
The hospital gave Jaimie-Lee little support and she struggled to care for him at home. When she applied for support, the NDIA initially knocked him back.
‘They actually said, “We don’t think we’ll accept him into the system because we think it’s more of medical condition than a disability at this stage.” And I said, “Yeah, you’ve picked a fight with the wrong person.”’
After being accepted, she waited a couple of years to have a wheelchair ramp installed at home and have the bathroom modified.
‘You’ve got your bunch of health professionals who are well and truly qualified to assess and recommend the right equipment for [Greig] and … they’re recommending things that are pretty good, but then it’s got to go to another level of bureaucracy at the NDIS to be assessed by another group of health professionals who may not necessarily have the same opinion, even though they’ve never met [Greig].’
Frustrated by the delay, the family built a ramp and raised money to modify the bathroom. The family struggled financially.
‘I’m [Greig’s] biggest informal support and NDIS recognises the informal supports are important and they rely on informal supports as cost saving measures.’
But Jaimie-Lee said being an unpaid carer means her work isn’t acknowledged or respected.
‘And that’s neither in the health sphere, not in the disability sphere and not in the welfare sphere … We’re a family who’s been under significant trauma.’
Recently, Jaimie-Lee got a part-time job. This meant Greig lost his healthcare card.
‘We’re not actually much better off when you think about what the expenses are relating to work, but it’s actually been good for me and for my health and wellbeing, this job … [but] we had so many out-of-pocket expenses because he didn’t have a healthcare card.’
Jaimie-Lee receives a carers allowance of a few thousand dollars a year. When she fell ill with a serious stress-related condition and told the NDIA she could no longer care for Greig, they added nearly $200,000 to his budget to fund supported accommodation.
‘So what they were saying is to replace me cost [nearly $200,000] a year … My own mental health and wellbeing has been sacrificed. Those things haven’t been addressed … That was, I found, particularly insulting.’
Disclaimer: This is the story of a person who shared their personal experience with the Royal Commission into Violence, Abuse, Neglect and Exploitation of People with Disability through a submission or private session. The names in this story are pseudonyms. The person who shared this experience was not a witness and their account is not evidence. They did not take an oath or affirmation before providing the story. Nothing in this story constitutes a finding of the Royal Commission. Any views expressed are those of the person who shared their experience, not of the Royal Commission.