Carers

THE CARERS’ course on Friday raises a couple of interesting points.

“When did you first start thinking of yourself as a carer?” the Facilitator asks.

Now at first I think this a rather silly question – after all, carers don’t stop being husbands and wives, sons and daughters to the people they care for. It’s just an extension of what they already do.

But the more I think about, the more I begin to see that it isn’t such silly a question; the carer’s role is something a bit different from that of a loving spouse or family member.

A carer subsumes his or her interests to that of the demands of the caree – his or her needs inevitably take priority.

Disability, whether physical or mental, cannot just be put on hold, the demands require constant vigilance and attention, sometimes immediate action.

And I think it’s true to say that the main reason why carers don’t consider themselves “professionals” is quite simply because they’re not paid.

One of the statistics to come out of the meeting on Friday is that if carers were to be paid the going market rate, it would cost the NHS an estimated £87 billion a year.

Obviously, this isn’t going to happen!

But until carers start to take their roles a little more seriously, and acknowledge that they too have needs, they will always keep on thinking of themselves as mere family and friends.

Speaking personally, I find my caring role one of the most demanding jobs I have ever done.

I’m on call more or less 24/7; and even when I can squeeze in a little time for myself, it’s always with one ear cocked to listen out for the summons, for the demand for assistance.

And if we are talking about the “profession” of caring – how many people work without at least a couple of weeks of paid holiday?

Yet many carers don’t have a choice about this, even when a little respite is granted in the form of vouchers, or sheltered holiday accommodation, it doesn’t give respite from the feelings of guilt, of the sense of evading your responsibilities.

Now, I’m very lucky to be a carer for My Good Lady, in many ways it’s a joy and a privilege to look after her; not only is she my lady, she’s also my best friend.

Yet even here, the demands of the job can sometimes be quite taxing, but if I have a problem I know I can discuss it with her.

That was not the case with the dementia that my parents’ suffered from, or the complete physical dependence that results from diseases like motor neurone.

At least, the course has given me something to think about and if I can arrange another sitter for MGL I shall continue with it a bit longer.