Written by Frederica

 

For the last several years I have been a ‘carer’. My husband has a degenerative illness that has meant his care needs have increased over the years.  Initially this was by slow increments with a  longish plateau between each period.  Lately his condition has worsened and the level plateau times have become shorter between each period of degeneration.  Occasional inpatient hospital visits have interspersed these different periods.  These have been difficult occurrences.

Because I recently had to undergo surgery myself, I needed to call upon the services of a ‘care’ provider company to assist me with care for my husband while I was post-operative and in recuperation.

In a short time I have met with a number of different people who have chosen, for one reason or another, to work in the care profession.  Many of them have chosen to share their reasons for doing so with me and to tell me something of their own stories.  I have counted it a privilege to be allowed an insight into someone else’s life.  

I have come to conclude that the life of most carers is not one to envy.  The fact that they do what they do confers upon them a badge of honour that makes the spurious ‘honours’ conferred on the political hangers-on and those in ‘public life’ look tawdry (as indeed they mostly are) by comparison.  

There are exceptions of course!  The live-in carer I accepted to get us over the first two weeks of my recuperation was not what I had expected.  I will say no more, other than that she was only with us for a week.

The daily carers that followed were a much more amenable set of people.  It was those kindly souls that showed me the difficulties that they all face in their daily rounds. 

There are clearly more people requiring ‘care’ in the community than there are ‘carers’ to accommodate them.  Consequently the care companies are taking on more customers than they can really deal with – all in the name of revenue and profits. Thus the staff are taking the brunt of the over-ordering and are being asked to work appalling hours with impossibly illogical rounds – often with only five minutes travelling time between each call where the distance covered might be as much as 12 miles. Logistics?  Working from 7.00am until 10.00pm is not uncommon.  Additionally on their official days off they are often asked to come to work instead because of the shortage of staff to cope.  Understandably sick days are frequently taken.

Officially they are allowed a two hour break during the day, but by my imperfect reckoning that still makes a thirteen hour working day with all the stress that is involved in trying to ensure that no customer is left without the care that they need.  Add on to all of this the requirement for COVID testing three times per week (two lateral flow and one PCR that has to be sent in for lab testing) and the latest coercive requirement to be ‘jabbed’.  I call that some of the most stressful employment that I have ever encountered!  Some of the ‘jabbed’ have told me of their after-effects.  Most of them had not even heard of the Yellow Card reporting facility!

My husband is currently in hospital.  He developed an infection (not COVID – as testing has confirmed) and his decline was swift.  This is not the first time this has happened.  His immune system is poor so it doesn’t take much.  Thus, he will not be taking the ‘jab’.

The hospital ward he is in is ‘closed’, so I may not visit. I have been able to speak to him by mobile phone and yesterday: a rare treat – a FaceTime call!  The day staff are mostly helpful and obliging (despite a couple of them having thickly accented and difficult to understand English). They are clearly stretched to the limit on a full and busy ward.  But at least it is COVID free!  I have had a daily update from the doctor which has been helpful.  But the fact that I am not able to visit has not helped my husband’s mental state.  He is not a good communicator and is fearful of the hospital environment.  The weekend staff are agency and therefore do not have the day to day hands-on knowledge of the patients. So for the ‘incarcerated’, weekends without visits from family and friends are more of a trial than the weekdays.

Two days ago the buzz went round the ward that some were going to be ‘released’!  The use of the word ‘released’ rather than ‘discharged’ says it all!  

So, taking into account the above, the purpose of my essay is to highlight the yawning gap between the mostly dedicated ‘carers’ at the patient-facing ‘coal face’ and the indifference that exists within the political and management classes whose responsibility it is to deal with the mammoth requirement that exists for ‘care’ of both the sick and also the elderly that are part of our communities.  

I class the GPs as amongst those on the front line most worthy of blame.  Those GPs who have decided that they have no responsibility for those on their patient list other than to dispense wisdom from on high via a telephone (or more recently the internet – that, I have been told, should be my ‘preferred’ method of communication!) consultation or to write a prescription for some drug or other that might – or might not – produce some alleviation for one’s symptoms.

Above them, of course, are the Clinical Commissioning Groups who hold the budgets and decide – in effect – whose needs are the most worthy. (I hope their halo’s choke them!)

They have been given this power by governments whose choices are made not through real interest in the welfare of the people needing ‘healthcare’ but by which policy will be most likely to get them re-elected.  Since COVID we have become more and more aware that the government agenda is more likely than not to be absolutely nothing to do with the health and wellbeing of the people of Britain and more a question of complete control over our whole lives – and not for our own good either.

My own MP is Minister for Care.  From my not infrequent communications with her I would conclude that ‘care’ of the people of Britain is the last thing that matters to her.  She, of course, being part of government, will be most conscious of her place upon the career path of plenty that the HoC currently seems to provide to its occupants.  But then … you can count upon your thumbs the number of MPs that really ‘care’!

Who cares?  QED!