Stuart’s story: how I became a carer

He was very stubborn my dad, an amazing guy, he’s still my hero to this today.

My brother-in-law told me a few weeks after my dad died that I had been his carer, which made me angry. I took a long time to come to terms with this as I felt I was just doing my duty. 

When my dad first became ill, we actually thought he’d had a stroke. My manager was on holiday and I got a voicemail from my dad who had collapsed. I worked an hour and a half away from my dad’s house and went to explain my situation to the Finance Director who said he’d drive me to my dad’s which I thought was really nice of him to offer. It felt like a really supportive environment. 

I went to the hospital where my dad was in the stroke department but it turned out he had a severe ear infection and was laid down for 12 weeks. He couldn’t stand up and he started having problems with his legs because he wasn’t active anymore. He’d previously been playing golf three days a week. Eventually, this all caught up with him – he had to have surgery, then started having heart and kidney problems and it all went downhill from there. 

I started looking after my dad by doing his shopping every couple of days and taking him to the hospital. Over the years he got more poorly and would have to go to different clinics, so I would take him.

It got to the point where dad would have hospital appointments once a week and my sister or I would take him. My daughter also had to go to hospital, so not only was I trying to support and look after my dad, but I was also trying to support my daughter. So actually I was a carer twice – something I’ve only just realised.

Work was difficult as all my team had been furloughed and I was working 60 to 70 hours a week. I worked weekends so that I could take dad to the hospital during the week. This meant that I really struggled to have a proper balance in terms of caring for him. 

I took the situation really seriously as he was my dad and he did a lot for me growing up: he supported me, and looked after me. It didn’t even cross my mind that it was something I shouldn’t do; it was done purely out of love, he didn’t expect it and he did appreciate it. But I found trying to care for him – especially during Covid – was just horrendous. I didn’t realise the toll it took on me and my relationships with my partner and my daughter, because my priority was my dad. 

On the day that he died I was supposed to take over some shopping but had to work. Someone had called in sick, which later I found out was skiving. My dad died that night. I am still angry about that.

My boss was part of the family that owned the organisation. She was brilliant and there was a lot of verbal support and care – but getting time away from work just wasn’t possible. 

They said that I could take the time off in the week to help my dad, if I could arrange cover, and make up my hours at weekends. In hindsight, that wasn’t helpful – especially in the long run. I appreciated it at the time and thought they were being supportive but thinking about it afterwards I realised they weren’t. 

This is part of the reason I left that organisation: I lost my dad in December and left them the following September. 

At that job, the support you got depended on how your face fitted. I got on really well with people, such as my Chief Executive and my manager, and was part of the senior management team. My boss and workmate were the most supportive, and especially my direct report who was brilliant.

I worked my socks off trying to do everything and ended up broken. It affected my health, and my relationship with my partner. I think a lot of that was because I was a carer and because dad was so reliant on me. That wasn’t an issue but as I had to be there regularly, dad always came first.

I attribute a lot of what happened afterwards with the caring side and I think this impact could be missed for people who suddenly stop being a carer. 

Ideally, you shouldn’t have to ask for help. Having support from peers and managers if an issue comes up so that you can send them a message to say ‘got to go’ and the only response is ‘let us know if we can do anything’. Employers should be asking, ‘what can we do to help you?’. 

If employers can offer wellbeing sessions, that would go a long way – Compassionate Employers are part of that. 

These sessions should come with the caveat that they won’t be forced to share anything. Find out how the person is doing and if there is anything they need help with. It would allow carers to have some space and more dedicated time.

Wellbeing sessions might not be able to solve any problems but it would help having someone to listen and offer advice, like suggesting solutions to help with juggling caring and work.

It’s not just about the senior leaders but your wider colleagues too. As a carer, you might not know you are one. We all have different experiences and one size doesn’t fit all: everyone has different struggles.