August 19th, 2024Just sayin’…

By Donna Kelly

“Damn never become a carer – you won’t like it.” This was the sage advice of my Frankston-based doctor, dating back about 20 years. I can’t quite remember but I think maybe Mum had been a bit crook and I was looking after her.

I think Paul was concerned I would take on the role a bit too seriously. Luckily, Mum continued to recover from many little hiccups and I never became a carer.

I did help out from time to time. Like when she fell backwards while on a small step reaching into a high cupboard. That was not a good one.

Or the time a stent got blocked in her stomach and by the time they finally worked out why she had lost about 30kg she was in a situation which the specialist described as “some patients don’t do well”.

I asked what that meant. He replied: “They die.”

I always remember telling my sister Mum was not out of the woods quite yet and being called a hypochondriac. Hmmm.

Anyway, some people have no choice about becoming carers. At the moment my sister-in-law’s parents are being looked after full-time by her sister. But that means every second weekend, my brother and her take over.

I talked to my brother the other day and he said it was draining and depressing. Both parents have varying levels of dementia and there are good days and bad days. More bad days now. But they soldier on.

And every other weekend is spent pretty much at home, doing the washing, cleaning, lawns etc. Just living.

I also have a friend who is looking after her nephew who has been diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. He has moved in with her and her husband and she has taken the past two months off work to make sure he attends chemo.

He doesn’t want to go any more, too hard, so she cajoles and threatens and pleads. He is 32. So, sometimes people just become carers. No choice involved.

Like Ruth Bray, who looks after her husband of more than half a century, Malcolm. And the government of the day decides they want to hear from people like Ruth, older carers, and arrange a national roundtable. Great. Well done. All hail the politicians for their wise decisions.

But Ruth gets the invite five days out, and has to find care for her husband, talk to other carers so she can take their views along, organise digital wallets, virtual cab charges, plane tickets and an online photo.

Oh, the government in its wisdom want Ruth to catch a 6.10am flight from Tullamarine to Brisbane. So, say, be at the airport about 5am, so, say, leave Daylesford about 3am, just in case of black ice or the odd early kangaroo.

But Ruth is 83 and has lived long enough to be too smart for them and says she wants to arrive a day early. Which she does. And lots of issues are raised, which is great. But will they listen? And will they make real changes? Or is this another talk fest?

Hello, Commission into Aged Care. I am talking about you. Anyway, have a read of Ruth’s story on page 6 (of The Local, August 12, 2024,Issue: 312). It is interesting and I hope change is afoot. Especially the bit where Ruth talks about the different agencies in the same home often being uncoordinated. FFS.

“My husband and I both need transport to the gym. He has an (aged care) package and I am under the Commonwealth Home Support Programme. Two workers in two cars arrive at our home at the same time, from the same agency, to take us to the same gym, as I am not permitted in his worker’s car. This is your taxes at work.”

And that’s the bit where you just shake your head. And wonder. Just sayin’…