As we all, in our own individual ways, take a moment to think of those working in our hospitals still smiling while wearing bin bags in their desperate last stand, or those with faces sore, striped with bruises from heavy-duty masks, I will think of my mum, an unpaid carer, and just one of many who have been completely and utterly let down by this government.
My mum has been an unpaid carer to my sister, Charlotte, who has severe autism, for over 29 years. It is a 24 hour, 7 days a week job.
She is immensely worried about contracting the virus, and is doing her utmost to adhere to the two metre distance rule when either her, or my Dad, take my sister out once a day for a local shopping trip.
Because of the pandemic, my mum has had to, regretfully, turn additional carers and my sister’s regular care package away.
The daily trips out for my sister gave her new experiences, and my mum a much needed break from her care duties –– a rare chance to look after her own health and wellbeing.
I video call my mum everyday. She is exhausted, but still smiling, and tells me things will be alright. But I am furious it has taken public clapping and belated tributes to recognise what my mum does day in, day out.
I continue to be in awe of the strength she has to carry on in this crisis, and an even greater admiration of her both as a mum and a carer.
It is up to her, and sometimes Dad, to be ever vigilant that Charlotte is safe at all times when outside. They’ve even bought extra gloves and masks out of their own pocket.
When the supermarkets were raided for hand sanitiser, donations of bottles came from kind neighbours and local builders.
Even if they’re out of date, the community spirit shown to my family lays bare the weakness of this government’s response to the virus outbreak.
Then there is the fear of self-isolation. We understand why –– to prevent the spread of this terrible disease. If my mum was admitted to hospital with coronavirus, my sister would not be able to cope without my mum being there.
She would have no comprehension of what was happening or why my mum had been admitted. That is an extremely frightening prospect.
Carers know they could contract the virus but they are still going to work (and it is work) each day without protection. The fact that we now rarely leave our homes means few people are aware of what is actually going on for unpaid carers all over the country.
For too long, they’ve worked tirelessly with little recognition or support. While research suggests unpaid carers save the UK economy about billions of pounds a year, the main carer’s benefit, carer’s allowance, is just £66.15 a week if you care for someone for at least 35 hours a week.
Does the government think that’s enough? Health secretary Matt Hancock recently admitted he couldn’t imagine living off £94-per-week statutory sick pay.
The government’s recent guidance on coronavirus for carers does not include free access to PPE.
That thousands of unpaid carers right now, are scrambling together an emergency plan of their own is shameful, and the failure of this government to get a grip on the outbreak, especially within the adult social care sector, will no doubt come back to haunt them.
One of the most important things this crisis has demonstrated is that there is no such as ‘low skilled’ labour. Our skill, and our wage, should be determined by the contribution we make to society.
I sincerely hope the government recognises it immediately in a permanent increase in unpaid carers wages, and free PPE to the point of need. Only then can we shield our most vulnerable in society from the horrors that this disease creates.
So while we congratulate our front line workers for their kindness and service, spare a thought too for the unpaid carers, like my mum, who are quietly facing this crisis away from public view.
