Beaten at Birth

By Glenys Maureen Kohlen

Precious, the oldest of ten suffered all of her life. Her biggest fear of landing in a care home had now become true. All of her belongings were thrown in the rubbish, along with all of her memories. A stroke that was not treated, due to misconduct, had left her with slight dementia. The system was prepared to pay £900 a week for a care home she didn’t want to be in. She would have been better off in prison, at least you get parole in prison. The care home had thrown away the key. Her siblings and son had tried in vain to get her out, but her oldest daughter and granddaughters were insistent that she stay there, so they could get on with their dubious business.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Oct 31, 2022
• ISBN: 9781398476073

Glenys Maureen Kohlen

Hello, My name is Glenys Maureen Kohlen, born Williams. Born in Nottingham UK. I am one of ten children, born to Beatrice May and my father, Oswald. Each one of us has our own story to tell. I came to Germany with WRAC in 1975 and married a German guy. I have one son, who I had at the age of 41. Actually, I am a late starter in everything I do or have done. I have never written a manuscript, although often started but never finished. I did write poems and won a prize when I was about eight years old at school. I found that very embarrassing when I had to go and collect my few sweets at the front of the class. The teacher said she found my poem beautiful, because it was about love, and she couldn’t understand that a person so young would think about romance at an early age. This manuscript is very important to me because it is about my sister who is in a care home against her will. The names are all changed and although the main events are true, there are some fantasy chapters to make it less morbid.

Book preview

About the Author

Hello, My name is Glenys Maureen Kohlen, born Williams.

Born in Nottingham UK. I am one of ten children, born to Beatrice May and my father, Oswald. Each one of us has our own story to tell.

I came to Germany with WRAC in 1975 and married a German guy. I have one son, who I had at the age of 41. Actually, I am a late starter in everything I do or have done.

I have never written a manuscript, although often started but never finished.

I did write poems and won a prize when I was about eight years old at school. I found that very embarrassing when I had to go and collect my few sweets at the front of the class. The teacher said she found my poem beautiful, because it was about love, and she couldn’t understand that a person so young would think about romance at an early age.

This manuscript is very important to me because it is about my sister who is in a care home against her will. The names are all changed and although the main events are true, there are some fantasy chapters to make it less morbid.

Dedication

To my sister Carol and for my mum, husband and son.

Copyright Information ©

Glenys Maureen Kohlen 2022

The right of Glenys Maureen Kohlen to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

All of the events in this memoir are true to the best of the author’s memory. The views expressed in this memoir are solely those of the author.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781398476066 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781398476073 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published 2022

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd®

1 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5AA

Synopsis

Precious oldest of ten. Growing up not knowing who her birth father was. Her granddad or her dad. Devoted to her mum and siblings, and she adored her three children, one daughter and two mixed-raced sons.

After suffering a bilateral stroke, her bungalow and all her possessions and lifelong memories were thrown away, and she was made to live with her daughter (for a while).

She was abused all of her life, but never complained. Her biggest fear was of landing in a care home knowing that you only came out in a coffin.

A hard worker and a perfectionist, she strived to make every wish come true for her children. Sadly, it was two of those she loved so much that made her fear become reality.

Several times she tried to end her life but never succeeded.

Loved by all, but that didn’t help with the system. They made their own rules. They were prepared to pay nearly nine hundred pounds a week from the taxpayers money for her to live in a place she didn’t want to be.

They kept her locked away like a prisoner, in fact she might have been better off in prison. At least you get parole in there.

Chapter 1

Memories

Precious that was her name. She didn’t feel very precious at all.

She often wondered why her parents had given her such a beautiful name. Maybe at that time, they had thought that she was precious. Born in 1945 just at the end of the world war-II. Yes of course she was precious.

She sat at the window of the care home where she now resided. She looked constantly hoping her mum or her daughter would come and fetch her home. She knew of course she didn’t have a home anymore. She had been a gypsy all her life moving from one house to another but always close to her mum. She couldn’t understand why they had taken her bungalow away and thrown all of her personal possessions away. WHY??? Was she such a bad person? She had done her very best all of her life. Now she was left here to die with nothing.

When those thoughts came, she went back to that little corner in her mind to her MEMORIES. Nobody could take those away from her. She was about six years old and she was bloody freezing, her hands were frozen as she stooped down to pick up a nub end, but it was quite big, so Dad would be pleased with her. She loved it when he picked her up and threw her in the air and said what a clever girl she was. She was very good at math, always had been and she started counting how many she had collected, and if she could hurry up and go home with her treasure.

‘Come on, Precious, time to get up and get a bath.’ The carer brought her back to the present. The carer was talking to her like a child and being overly nice, something must be happening again. Probably, one of those ladies that asked her ‘General knowledge’ questions.

‘What year is it, Precious?’

‘Where did you live?’

‘What day is it today?’

What does it bloody matter what day it is silly cow, she thought, every day is the same here. She couldn’t remember anyway. She just said the first day that came to mind. There were always two of them and she saw one look to the other as if to say she has lost the plot. They sometimes talked about her as if she wasn’t there. She hated that. The carers too, whispering to each other thinking she couldn’t hear them.

‘Look, how much chocolate she has eaten again.’

Fuck off, she thought and smiled politely. I will eat as much as I want; there is nothing better to do here. Apart from that, she loved her chocolate. She used to enjoy a cig with a victory V sweet. Those days were long gone. But sometimes she did fancy one. They helped her in the bath and put on a nice jumper to make her look presentable. They always did her nails nice and she could choose her colour. She often wondered how they managed to do them with her shaking so bad. That was something that she did like, and was proud of her nails. She had always had harsh cleaning hands and nails. No time for nail varnish or the likes. She had cleaned and scrubbed for as long as she can remember, and was meticulous in everything she did. In fact, she prided herself on knowing that no one could clean, iron, or cook as well as her.

‘Come on, Precious, don’t dilly dally. They are waiting in the lounge.’

Just as she had thought, there they were, the two of them, sitting at the table with their notepads. She was prepared today and had remembered what her darling sister Beth had told her … ‘Always carry your newspaper with you and then you will know what date and day it is.’ She sat down shakily and they smiled their false smile. Baby talk as usual. ‘How are you today, Precious?’

‘Fine, but I want to go home,’ she answered.

Why did they always change the subject when she said this? She started crying because she remembered that Beth hadn’t phoned for a while and she needed her reassurance to tell her everything was going to be OK. She had phoned every day and told her how to act, what to do, how to remember things that were important for her. She needed her NOW.

‘What’s wrong, Precious,’ the carer asked in her (nice for the superiors) type of voice. ‘Can I get you something to drink?’ She didn’t want anything to drink she just wanted to go home! They didn’t even bother to ask her what day it was, and so the makeover and bath were just a waste of time. She decided there and then that she would try and do a runner this evening. She would wait till they were all sleeping, and then she would pretend to be sleeping and then climb out the window. Luckily, she was on the ground floor. If she phoned her son (but she had no phone) then she knows he would fetch her. All planned, she put on a smile and answered as best she could their silly questions.

She drifted back off to her memories.

It was the screaming she hated the most, but the very first time she was petrified and ran to Granddad. They lived with their granddad in a council house. It was an end terraced house with a big garden back and front. Three steps and a tree near the gate. She loved it and there were lots of hiding places when they played hide and seek. Mum always had her washing out every single day, even if it snowed or rained, and she didn’t understand how it got dry. Three bed rooms up the 13 stairs and a toilet outside across the porch. The bath was in the kitchen. There was a slot machine that Mum had to put coins in for gas and light. Normally, there was only one bulb for the house and one time when she had tried to fit one in she put her finger in the hole. Never again, she literally got the shock of her life. The very first time that Mum started screaming she didn’t know what was happening. A lady came and she was ordering Dad, Granddad, and even her to get hot water and towels. After a short time, the lady came out of the bedroom and spoke to Dad. She ran to Granddad who always comforted her. He would rub her belly and sing to her. He said it was their secret and not to tell anybody. He sometimes gave her sweets or a farthing. This was the day that her childhood left forever. Granddad told her that Mum was having a baby (meaning she was going to have a brother or sister) but there were complications, and maybe Mum was going to die. She started screaming so Granddad took her away. He said that it was the baby or Mum, but thank god Dad had said, ‘Save my wife.’ Then to her total joy, they brought out a little boy.

Granddad told her that the lady was called a Midwife. He was the most beautiful brother in the whole wide world and she became his nanny at about three years old. They called him Don. Dad changed after Don was born. He always smelt funny and he kept going out, so she had to help Mum however she could. Thank god Granddad comforted her at bedtime.

Chapter 2

Escape

They were all sleeping, well she hoped they were. She had had her medicine, and all was quiet. The lady down the hall had stopped screaming (she drove her mad all day). She knew she was poorly, but she never stopped screaming. They gave her lots of medicine to try and keep her quiet.

She waited till she was certain that the carers were also napping, then she put her thick coat and boots on. It was cold outside, and she knew she would have to walk all the way home because she had no money.

Home, of course, was to