OPINION: I worked as a carer during Covid and that “bonus” didn’t even touch the bank account

My experience of working in care during Covid, is actually why I went into journalism. I worked as a support worker in Aberdeen at the time, helping adults with additional support needs.

I had only been in the job for a matter of weeks, before I was flung into 14 hour shifts, seven days a week with a handful of other staff.

Everything was eerily quiet when driving back and forth to work, but in all honesty I was happy to have some sort of routine and normality.

I can’t go into too much detail here, as there is far too much stuff that I cannot share – because it’s private to those people.

But it was HARD.

It was so hard to have to watch individuals who were so dependent upon routine lose all of that in a matter of moments. And the explanation we had to give them didn’t really make much sense to anyone, because, it was like nothing we had ever experienced before.

We set up mini-Olympic games in the garden, had fake-away nights, indoor exercise, freshly baked bread, online quizzes with other service users in different houses and we coloured in.

In between that we were called by the head office to count the number of gloves and face masks and hand sanitizer and aprons we had in the midst of issuing out controlled medication while someone would be screaming and another one taking a seizure.

I write that long sentence, because it was long.

There was violence, but that was part of the disability for many.

There were runaways. Spending four hours running about Aberdeen on the hunt for an MIA service user.

There was a counter on the whiteboard, where we would write how many days we had been in lockdown for.

There were tears. Lots of them, from everyone.

There was laughter.

There were words of encouragement.

There was frustration.

There was underpayment.

There was a £500 bonus. Oh no, most of that was taxed.

But most of all, I think the most tragic thing of all was how people like the ones I was working with were forgotten by many. While parties were going on at Westminster, we were just trying to hold the pieces of someone’s mental health together as best we could.

Another thing that I believe the care industry relies heavily on is what I call the empathy clause. People who work in care generally are very empathetic people.

They are going to go over and above every time, not because the pay is good or the hours are good. But because they will never leave someone or abandon a shift, because that person needs them. That person’s needs end up coming over the carer’s own needs. Which is an incredible quality, but it’s exhausting. And I also believe that it’s a form of extortion by the care industry.

If someone is handing out controlled drugs, they should be paid a lot more than minimum wage. If they are wiping up faeces, they should be paid more than minimum wage. If they are keeping someone alive, and helping them thrive, they should be paid more than minimum wage.

Being a carer was is one of the best jobs I’ve ever had and I often think about going back to it. The people who work in the field and have done so for years are the country’s superheroes in my opinion.

The service users are also some of the most extraordinary people I have ever met. They can’t tell their stories of their covid experience at the moment, but I hope one day they can.

I haven’t even scratched the surface in this opinion piece; and I’m sure there are a lot more people with similar experiences.

But writing this now has reminded me why I decided to change career paths. I wanted the world to know about the systematic issues with our care system.

If you would like to share your story of Covid with me, email: rachel.smart@hnmedia.co.uk

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