After the Visit - Notice After Notice – Part 14 - May 2022

3 May 2022

“I’ve Never Felt So Afraid and Alone”

By early May 2022, I had already sent notice after notice.

I had reported the psychosocial hazards.

I had reported the discrimination, harassment and retaliation.

I had reported the failures in injury management.

I had reported the ongoing withholding of workers compensation entitlements.

I had reported the impact on my health, my family and my ability to survive financially.

And yet, I was still writing.

On 3 May 2022, I wrote again to Chris Minns and Cheryl Han at the Kogarah Electorate Office.

I was running out of options.

The reality confronting me by then was terrifying.

I had just spoken with my mortgage broker.

The financial consequences of what had happened were immediate.

I wrote:

“I just spoke with the mortgage broker. I need my entitlements stolen returned including my employment, and compliance in worker’s compensation regulations in implementing the injury management plan, providing the entitlements that had previously been withheld.”

I was trying to explain something that should never have required explanation.

Workers compensation is supposed to exist to protect injured workers.

An injury management plan is supposed to be implemented.

Weekly payments are supposed to be paid.

Support is supposed to be provided.

Instead, I found myself pleading for basic compliance with obligations that already existed.

I was frightened.

I was exhausted.

And I was humiliated.

I wrote:

“I’m completely exhausted and humiliated by all this. I’ve never felt so afraid and alone.”

It was true. The psychological injury itself was devastating enough. But the ongoing refusal to address what had happened created a second layer of harm.

Every unanswered email.

Every delayed response.

Every failure to act.

Every day without certainty.

Every day wondering whether I would lose my home.

Every day wondering whether anyone actually cared what was happening.

I was not asking for miracles.

I was asking for my employer, insurer and those with influence to recognise the gravity of what had occurred and to take action.

I wrote:

“I need my employment returned quickly. I hope ACU leaders finally realised the gravity of the harm caused by a National manager of employment relations and safety they entrusted the community’s safety to.”

What strikes me is that I was still trying to believe somebody would step in.

Still trying to believe somebody would hear me.

Still trying to believe that if enough people understood the seriousness of the situation, they would do the right thing.

The following day was approaching Mother’s Day, and the second email I sent that day reveals something else that often gets lost in workplace injury stories.

The injury never affects only one person.

The consequences spread through families. Relationships become strained. Everyone carries part of the burden.

I wrote about the Greek concept of philotimo — dignity, honour, responsibility and doing the right thing.

I explained that humiliation does not stop with the person targeted.

It affects the entire family.

I wrote:

“The humiliation and indignity affects the entire family. Not just the one targeted…”

By this point, I wasn’t simply asking for workers compensation compliance.

I was asking for my life back.

I was asking for my human right to recover.

I was asking for my employee right to return to my work under the injury management plan that had already been agreed.

I was asking not to be left in the dark.

I ended the email with these words:

“Please update me so I’m not kept in the dark anymore.”

That captures so much of what this entire period felt like.

Being kept in the dark.

Not knowing what decisions were being made, whether anyone was acting, whether anyone understood the urgency.

Not knowing whether I would lose security built over decades of hard work, and my home.

By 3 May 2022, this was no longer simply a workplace issue.

It had become a fight for survival.

And still, the notices continued.

And the institutionalised wage theft continued too..

Source: contemporaneous record of events - Document 313.

 

 The Greek Secret of Philotimo is Missing in our Society

 

The Social Media Post I Saw on 29 April 2022

I still remember the day.

Friday, 29 April 2022.

I was extremely exhausted.

For months I had been trying to obtain help regarding my workers compensation claim, the failure to implement the Injury Management Plan by my employer and insurer, the withholding of my statutory entitlements, and what were serious failures by both SafeWork NSW and SIRA.

I had taken those concerns to my local member, Chris Minns, and his Kogarah electorate office.

There had been indications that something was happening.

And then I saw the social media post.

Chris Minns had visited the University campus at Blacktown.

 

Chris Minns’ social media post, 29 April 2022, following his visit to ACU Blacktown during the NSW election campaign. The statement that workers deserve “a government that listens to their concerns and takes action” would later take on a very different meaning for me.

At first, I was pleased.

In fact, I emailed Chris Minns and Cheryl Han that same day and told them it was “a good idea and great opportunity to visit ACU.”

I genuinely believed it was positive.

The university offered courses in nursing, teaching, social work, paramedicine and allied health. Highlighting those professions during an election campaign was important.

Importantly, I thought the visit might also mean that somebody was finally paying attention to what had happened to me.

I wanted to believe that.

I needed to believe that.

At that point I was carrying a burden that had become unbearable.

I was frightened.

I was financially collapsing.

I was isolated.

I was trying to survive the consequences of raising concerns about workplace safety and then finding myself trapped in a workers compensation system that seemed determined to ignore its own obligations.

When I saw the post, I actually felt relief.

I wrote to the electorate office that seeing the photo had made me feel as though a burden had lifted.

For a brief moment, I felt hopeful.

Then I read the words.

One sentence in particular stayed with me.

Chris Minns wrote that workers deserved:

“A government that listens to their concerns and takes action.”

At the time, I wanted to believe that statement.

I wanted to believe somebody was finally listening.

I wanted to believe somebody was finally prepared to take action.

After all, I was his constituent.

I lived in his electorate.

I had repeatedly raised concerns regarding workplace safety, workers compensation, injury management, regulatory failures and the impact those failures were having on my life.

I had explained that I was struggling.

I had explained that my entitlements remained withheld.

I had explained that I was trying to save my home, protect my health and hold my family together while navigating a system that seemed increasingly hostile toward an injured worker.

I thought those concerns mattered.

I thought they would be heard.

But what followed was not listening.

What followed was silence.

And the action that ultimately affected my life was not action that protected me.

The employer had already failed to provide a safe work environment after I raised concerns.

The insurer had continued to withhold entitlements.

The insurer had failed to implement the Injury Management Plan.

The insurer had failed to provide effective case management.

The insurer had failed to ensure safeguards that should have existed under the scheme.

The insurer had failed to cooperate in ways that would have supported recovery and a safe return to work.

And now I found myself facing something else.

Not advocacy.

Not transparency.

Not communication.

Silence.

The result was that I increasingly felt abandoned not only by my employer and insurer, but also by the elected representative I had approached for help.

That is what made this period so frightening.

People often look at correspondence and government processes and forget there is a human being living through them.

At that time I was trying to manage overwhelming financial pressure.

I was trying to save my home.

I was trying to maintain my health.

I was trying to preserve relationships with my family.

I was trying to survive, and I was doing it largely alone.

The imbalance of power was extraordinary.

On one side stood:

• An employer.
• An insurer.
• Lawyers.
• Government agencies.
• Regulators.
• And increasingly what felt like political indifference.

On the other side stood one injured worker.

People often confuse vulnerability with weakness.

They are not the same thing.

I was vulnerable.

I was frightened.

I was exhausted.

But I was not weak.

If anything, the fact that I continued documenting events, writing letters, lodging complaints and demanding accountability despite everything that was happening proves the opposite.

What I didn’t  understand at the time was how significant that social media post would become.

It now stands as a reminder of the gap between public statements and private experiences.

A worker deserving a government that listens.

A constituent asking to be heard.

A promise of action.

And then silence.

The issue was never that Chris Minns visited ACU.

Politicians visit universities during election campaigns.

That is normal.

The issue was the timing.

The issue was that I had been led to believe advocacy and support were occurring regarding matters that directly affected my employment, health, entitlements and future.

The issue was what happened afterwards.

Nothing.

No update.

No explanation.

No clarity.

Just growing uncertainty.

As the days passed, my confidence in the Kogarah electorate office began to disappear.

My trust began to erode.

My instinct told me that something was wrong.

On 3 May 2022, after still hearing nothing, I wrote again.

I explained that a friend had contacted the office seeking an update regarding the Friday meeting with the university.

I explained how important that information was.

I explained that my mental health depended on knowing what was happening.

I explained that TAL, my mortgage broker and the conveyancer all needed answers.

I explained that I wanted healing with my family before Mother’s Day.

I was asking for communication.

I was asking for an update.

I was asking for honesty.

This was one of the first moments I began to feel unsafe communicating directly with my elected representative’s office.

Because of the uncertainty.

Because I no longer knew whether what I was being told privately matched what was actually happening.

By May 2022, I realised that the people and institutions I had trusted to help were not helping at all.

The employer had failed me.

The insurer had failed me.

The regulators had failed me.

And now I was beginning to fear that political representation was failing me too.

At the time, Chris Minns had not yet become Premier.

What happened after he entered government, and what that would mean for my attempts to seek accountability, is a story for later posts.

But by early May 2022, something fundamental had changed.

I began to question whether the office that was supposed to represent me was actually listening at all.

Source: contemporaneous record of events - Document 312.

Notice After Notice – Part 13: Chris Minns and Cheryl Han again & again - April 2022

26 & 27 April 2022

“I Need the Injury Management Plan to Be Implemented Please”

By April 2022, I was no longer explaining what had happened.

The records already existed.

The injury had already been reported.

The workers compensation claim had already been lodged.

The Injury Management Plan had already been issued.

The problem was not a lack of information.

The problem was that nothing seemed to be happening.

——

On 26 April 2022, I wrote to Cheryl Han at the Kogarah Electorate Office.

The email was short.

This quote captured years of waiting:

“Is there an update?”

I explained why I was asking.

And I reminded the electorate office of a simple reality:

The university had a legal obligation to take care of me…

I ended the email with one word.

“Please.”

There was nothing unreasonable in that request.

I was asking whether there had been any progress.

Whether anyone had acted.

Whether anyone had listened.

Whether anyone cared.

——

The following day, 27 April 2022, I wrote again.

This time the subject line itself explained the problem:

“I need the Injury Management Plan to be implemented please.”

Not created.

Not drafted.

Not discussed.

Implemented.

Because by this point everyone already knew there was an Injury Management Plan.

The university knew.

The insurer knew.

The regulators knew.

The electorate office knew.

The question was never whether the plan existed.

The question was why it was not being implemented.

That is what stands out to me when I read these emails.

They show that the issue had become incredibly simple.

A worker was asking for an existing statutory process to function.

A worker was asking for obligations to be honoured.

A worker was asking for support that had already been recognised as necessary.

And yet I still found myself writing email after email, notice after notice, asking for the same thing.

——

The silence that followed is difficult to forget, because silence is also a response.

When somebody asks, “Is there an update?”, and there is none;

When somebody says, “I need the Injury Management Plan to be implemented please”, and nothing changes;

The message received is clear.

By April 2022, I was not fighting for new rights.

I was fighting for existing obligations to be honoured.

That is what these emails show.

Everybody knew.

And I kept writing.

Notice after notice.

Source: contemporaneous record of events - Documents 310-311.