News (Media Awareness Project) - CN ON: A Ticket To 'Despair' For Those In Need? |
Title: | CN ON: A Ticket To 'Despair' For Those In Need? |
Published On: | 1999-10-17 |
Source: | Toronto Star (Canada) |
Fetched On: | 2008-09-05 17:45:39 |
A TICKET TO 'DESPAIR' FOR THOSE IN NEED?
Transit-aid changes 'very shortsighted,' support workers say
A "clarification" in provincial policy means nearly 3,000 of Ontario's
poorest, most isolated individuals are at risk of losing one of the most
important things in their lives: their mobility.
Mobility that allows them to reach drop-ins, food banks, community mental
health services and elsewhere. To reach out.
"It's ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous," says Lana Frado, executive
director of Sound Times Support Services.
"To me, it's akin to building a centre for people with spinal injuries and
not putting a ramp in. It's the same thing."
Frado was referring to a move by the community and social services ministry
that many say will block access to many programs funded by the health
ministry.
"The mood everywhere is shock and extreme concern," said Chris Higgins,
executive director of the Ontario Federation of Community Mental Health and
Addictions Programs. "And, in some cases, despair. The fear is that it's
going to decimate the system."
"It" is a letter recently sent to people on the Ontario Disability Support
Program. The document informs those who've previously received
transportation assistance of some changes.
Now, it says, recipients must account for every bus trip or subway ride
they take if they want those expenses covered - and only certain trips
qualify. The letter states that "transportation assistance will be provided
(only) for therapy or treatment provided by a professional designated under
the Regulated Health Profession Act, 1991."
In other words, trips to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting don't qualify.
Trips to an addiction counsellor or social worker don't count. Even trips
to the Public Guardian and Trustee Office - the body that handles money for
those unable to do so - are no longer eligible.
Leo Wilks is one of 2,750 people who got that letter.
His arrived just three weeks after he received his first Metropass paid for
by the province. He was using that pass to attend a number of support
groups recommended by both his psychiatrist and his caseworker. The goal of
those programs is to keep him away from substance abuse, keep him out of
hospital and - eventually - get him back to work.
The letter meant he was faced with an unpleasant choice: Either spend
$88.50 - more than 10 per cent of his monthly disability income - on a
Metropass, or stay at home and risk becoming ill again.
"My pattern is that if I just have to stay at home, I sink into
depression," said the 58-year-old. "Loneliness is my illness."
For people on extremely limited incomes, such choices are harsh. Buying the
Metropass has forced Wilks to eat more meals at the Scott Mission. He's
also stopped going to the YMCA because he can no longer afford the $30
monthly fee.
"I had been going three or four times a week. But I've been embarrassed
about going now because I'm behind in my payments," he said.
Beyond the financial burden, those who work in the mental health world fear
the restrictions send a blunt and painful message to those trying to
improve their lives: Don't bother.
"You have to have that tool (transit) in order to make connections," said
Bob Rose, an outreach worker in Parkdale who has long lobbied for better
transport access. "If you take that away from people, or make it harder for
people, then the message is: Get back, stay back, don't move ahead."
Heather Rapaport, a counsellor and teacher, agrees. She helps run
Redirection Through Education, a program at George Brown College that has
turned lives around. She said many of her students are in a state of shock.
One woman is already trying to calculate whether, if she misses one meal
per day, she can still afford the TTC to get to class. Another young man,
with a diagnosis of schizophrenia, just dropped out.
"He left in despair," she said. "He knew he could come another month
(before losing his pass). And I think he thought: 'What on earth is the
point? Because I'll only be more wedded to the program and more connected,
and then I lose it.' "
Several in the mental health field also expressed concerns that the policy
will actually cost far more than it saves.
"This is clearly going to result in people becoming ill," said Don Young, a
psychologist who works in a satellite clinic of the Centre for Addiction
and Mental Health. "And that is going to result in re-hospitalizations. And
in the end, that will result in more money being spent."
(The ministry spent $129,000 last year on transportation assistance. A
hospital bed is roughly $500 per day.)
"You can send them by streetcar," said Bob Rose, "or you can send them by
ambulance."
"It's very shortsighted," said Michael McCrimmon, director of the 416
Drop-In's addiction case management program. "A lot of the clients we serve
won't make it to appointments (without the pass). And if they don't make it
to appointments, their recovery is in jeopardy. And what have we
accomplished then?
"What you've got in this scenario is absolutely classic fragmentation of
service."
The social services ministry said the change is actually an effort to make
the system more equitable.
Until now, municipalities administered the transportation assistance with
ministry funding.
But, said spokesperson Suzanne Bezuk, "what had happened was that every
municipality had its own interpretation, its own definition of what
qualified as transportation for medical treatment. And as a result, what
the municipalities were delivering was inconsistent."
The ministry is aware of the criticisms - local offices of the Ontario
Disability Support Program have been bombarded with calls. Bezuk said the
ministry will continue to monitor the policy to ensure that it meets the
needs of its clients.
"For some people in the province," she said, "this will literally mean they
will now get transportation paid for that they hadn't previously when it
was delivered by the municipality."
Vice versa for Leo Wilks.
Despite this setback, the former cabinet maker and sculptor still has hopes
of getting back in business. He's on a waiting list to get into a
Mississauga woodworking shop run by the Centre for Addiction and Mental
Health.
That, he says, is the first step.
Providing he can get there.
Transit-aid changes 'very shortsighted,' support workers say
A "clarification" in provincial policy means nearly 3,000 of Ontario's
poorest, most isolated individuals are at risk of losing one of the most
important things in their lives: their mobility.
Mobility that allows them to reach drop-ins, food banks, community mental
health services and elsewhere. To reach out.
"It's ridiculous. Absolutely ridiculous," says Lana Frado, executive
director of Sound Times Support Services.
"To me, it's akin to building a centre for people with spinal injuries and
not putting a ramp in. It's the same thing."
Frado was referring to a move by the community and social services ministry
that many say will block access to many programs funded by the health
ministry.
"The mood everywhere is shock and extreme concern," said Chris Higgins,
executive director of the Ontario Federation of Community Mental Health and
Addictions Programs. "And, in some cases, despair. The fear is that it's
going to decimate the system."
"It" is a letter recently sent to people on the Ontario Disability Support
Program. The document informs those who've previously received
transportation assistance of some changes.
Now, it says, recipients must account for every bus trip or subway ride
they take if they want those expenses covered - and only certain trips
qualify. The letter states that "transportation assistance will be provided
(only) for therapy or treatment provided by a professional designated under
the Regulated Health Profession Act, 1991."
In other words, trips to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting don't qualify.
Trips to an addiction counsellor or social worker don't count. Even trips
to the Public Guardian and Trustee Office - the body that handles money for
those unable to do so - are no longer eligible.
Leo Wilks is one of 2,750 people who got that letter.
His arrived just three weeks after he received his first Metropass paid for
by the province. He was using that pass to attend a number of support
groups recommended by both his psychiatrist and his caseworker. The goal of
those programs is to keep him away from substance abuse, keep him out of
hospital and - eventually - get him back to work.
The letter meant he was faced with an unpleasant choice: Either spend
$88.50 - more than 10 per cent of his monthly disability income - on a
Metropass, or stay at home and risk becoming ill again.
"My pattern is that if I just have to stay at home, I sink into
depression," said the 58-year-old. "Loneliness is my illness."
For people on extremely limited incomes, such choices are harsh. Buying the
Metropass has forced Wilks to eat more meals at the Scott Mission. He's
also stopped going to the YMCA because he can no longer afford the $30
monthly fee.
"I had been going three or four times a week. But I've been embarrassed
about going now because I'm behind in my payments," he said.
Beyond the financial burden, those who work in the mental health world fear
the restrictions send a blunt and painful message to those trying to
improve their lives: Don't bother.
"You have to have that tool (transit) in order to make connections," said
Bob Rose, an outreach worker in Parkdale who has long lobbied for better
transport access. "If you take that away from people, or make it harder for
people, then the message is: Get back, stay back, don't move ahead."
Heather Rapaport, a counsellor and teacher, agrees. She helps run
Redirection Through Education, a program at George Brown College that has
turned lives around. She said many of her students are in a state of shock.
One woman is already trying to calculate whether, if she misses one meal
per day, she can still afford the TTC to get to class. Another young man,
with a diagnosis of schizophrenia, just dropped out.
"He left in despair," she said. "He knew he could come another month
(before losing his pass). And I think he thought: 'What on earth is the
point? Because I'll only be more wedded to the program and more connected,
and then I lose it.' "
Several in the mental health field also expressed concerns that the policy
will actually cost far more than it saves.
"This is clearly going to result in people becoming ill," said Don Young, a
psychologist who works in a satellite clinic of the Centre for Addiction
and Mental Health. "And that is going to result in re-hospitalizations. And
in the end, that will result in more money being spent."
(The ministry spent $129,000 last year on transportation assistance. A
hospital bed is roughly $500 per day.)
"You can send them by streetcar," said Bob Rose, "or you can send them by
ambulance."
"It's very shortsighted," said Michael McCrimmon, director of the 416
Drop-In's addiction case management program. "A lot of the clients we serve
won't make it to appointments (without the pass). And if they don't make it
to appointments, their recovery is in jeopardy. And what have we
accomplished then?
"What you've got in this scenario is absolutely classic fragmentation of
service."
The social services ministry said the change is actually an effort to make
the system more equitable.
Until now, municipalities administered the transportation assistance with
ministry funding.
But, said spokesperson Suzanne Bezuk, "what had happened was that every
municipality had its own interpretation, its own definition of what
qualified as transportation for medical treatment. And as a result, what
the municipalities were delivering was inconsistent."
The ministry is aware of the criticisms - local offices of the Ontario
Disability Support Program have been bombarded with calls. Bezuk said the
ministry will continue to monitor the policy to ensure that it meets the
needs of its clients.
"For some people in the province," she said, "this will literally mean they
will now get transportation paid for that they hadn't previously when it
was delivered by the municipality."
Vice versa for Leo Wilks.
Despite this setback, the former cabinet maker and sculptor still has hopes
of getting back in business. He's on a waiting list to get into a
Mississauga woodworking shop run by the Centre for Addiction and Mental
Health.
That, he says, is the first step.
Providing he can get there.
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