This (caring) Life

This (caring) life by Crispin Walters

 

I AM often told by people I must be special because I work with the disabled. This becomes very tedious after a while, particularly when I have had to lobby for better working conditions, higher staffing levels and adequate levels of remuneration, and have been made to feel very ordinary. The frustration has been exacerbated by parents, other family members and advocates who perceive me and my colleagues as being somehow superhuman, capable of providing the same level of care to their loved ones as they can, and look after three other disabled people at the same time. At the risk of appearing indifferent, or even callous, sometimes when I'm weary I tell people that, far from being special, I'm no different from Elton John and Bernie Taupin's Rocket Man: It's just my job five days a week.

 

I see the caring industry as a service industry. Just as the experienced barman pours your favourite beer when you enter the pub, so the experienced carer dispenses their care, such as preparing the right food and giving the correct aids with which to eat it.

 

I had a variety of other jobs before and, like most of us in the area, accidently stumbled into disability. I was once a hopeless insurance clerk, an equally hopeless labourer and eventually a disillusioned salesman.

 

Thirty years ago I was sitting with my sister as she lay dying in hospital. At 2am I heard another patient call out for assistance; he needed to go to the toilet. This gentleman was very grateful that I came to his rescue as he did not wish to trouble the already heavily taxed nurses on duty. We go talking and he expressed his sadness at the circumstances in which we had to meet. From his hospital bed, he wished me well. As I look back on it now, this kind needy soul helped deliver me to my proper calling.

 

Sure, sometimes I despair at the mayhem, the chaos that surrounds and threatens to engulf us carers from time to time. But I never lose sight of the fact this is what I was put on this earth to do. Every job has its ups and downs, it's just that the ups should, hopefully, outnumber the downs.

 

Just for the record, I'm writing this on a sleepover shift, in which sleep eludes me. My philosophy is that I need to tend to the emotional, physical and intellectual needs of the people in my care, and in that order. For instance, if a person wakes up in a good mood, this mood should be maintained. If a bad mood is evident, then a problem needs to be addressed and, hopefully, corrected. We all deserve to wake up happy.

 

A disabled person's physical needs must be accomodated, and with dignity. Finally, the carer should encourage the client to think as much for themselves as possible; that way intellect can be preserved and nurtured. It's not that hard. It's just like pouring a beer.