‘I have two jobs: one that keeps someone alive – and one that I get paid for.’

Unpaid carers like me save the NHS £119 billion a year, says Laura Barnes of the We Care Campaign – yet our rewards include burnout, poverty, never seeing friends and being pushed out of jobs. In the second blog in our series for Carers Week in the UK, she says it’s time to value what the millions of carers do: and that starts with tailored services, financial support, flexible work and access to respite.

“What now?!” I said, exasperated. “Don’t move grandma, hold on to the sink,” I said, as I put her towel over her shoulders.

I rushed to the door looking at my phone as it told me I had 14 minutes left – and opened the front door to find a nurse smiling at me. “Hello?” I said hesitantly, surprised at medical attention spontaneously turning up without me having to cry at anyone.

“I’m here for a blood test.”
“Ah, right. We already did it two days ago but come in.”
“I wasn’t told that.”
“No, that’s fine, another one can’t hurt. I just need to finish getting grandma ready. Can you wait in the living room?”

I scurried back to the bathroom, I now had 10 minutes to get grandma dried, put her various creams on and dressed. A few minutes later, I guided my slightly bewildered but presentable grandmother back into the living room and introduced the waiting nurse who was there to do a blood test that didn’t need doing.

I looked at my phone: one minute to go. “Can I leave you to it? Please call this number with the results and if you could let me know next time you’re planning to visit I can make sure we’re ready.”

I zoomed into the kitchen and logged into my work team call… I was the first one there.

The job I don’t get paid for: saving lives

Let me introduce myself: I’m Laura, head of communications for Europe and Americas for a tech company and unpaid carer to my 100-year-old grandmother. These titles mean I have two more-than-full-time jobs: one that keeps someone alive – and one that I get paid for.

Don’t get me wrong, the job I get paid to do is important. I love it, I’m good at it and it gives me a focus other than caring; but it is not vital. In corporate environments when things get tough, a senior manager will often say “we’re not saving lives here”, usually to stop the panic cc-ing spiral from hitting their inboxes.

‘I do this because I have no choice. Not because I’m a hero as a lot of (well-meaning) people call me and other unpaid carers. I have sacrificed everything apart from my job because I had to, and I’m considered lucky: in the UK 600 people a day are forced to quit their jobs because of caring responsibilities’.

By contrast, the job I don’t get paid to do is literally saving lives. I’ve saved grandma’s life three times so far. The UK government considers this half of me inactive, “economically inactive’ to be precise – because I’m not creating value for shareholders. I’m just doing vital work looking after my grandmother because the social care system she contributed to all her life doesn’t. There is no help: it is at best inadequate and more often than not, inexistent. Incidentally, I also save this broken system money: unpaid carers save the NHS the equivalent of £119 billion (yes, with a “b”) every year.

I do this because I have no choice. Not because I’m a hero, as a lot of (well-meaning) people call me and other unpaid carers. I have sacrificed everything apart from my job because I had to, and I’m considered lucky – in the UK 600 people a day are forced to quit their jobs because of caring responsibilities. The situation I am stuck in means I will probably never have a family of my own, my remaining friendships are now exclusively via text message because I can’t leave the house for more than two or three hours at a time, my employability is greatly diminished despite being very good at my job, and don’t get me started on my deep burnout and depression. (I would get an official diagnosis but I can’t see a GP.)

Why are our lives worth less?

How is this equal? How is this fair? Why is my life – and millions of carers’ lives – worth less than others who aren’t (yet) carers?

For fairness and equality, we need equity: in other words, we need tailored help that is effective, which recognises the very difficult situations unpaid carers find themselves in, and which provides a range of tangible solutions to relieve them from the immense pressure they’re under – be it financial, mental, and/or physical.

‘Unpaid carers need and deserve to have a life alongside the care they provide – not just an existence.’

Alongside this, we need real financial recognition of the work we do, not a pittance of a Carers’ Allowance. We need employers to recognise that flexible work policies make real business sense. We need access to respite. Unpaid carers need and deserve to have a life alongside the care they provide – not just an existence.

Make no mistake dear reader, it will happen to you. There are only three types of people in the UK: unpaid carers, soon-to-be-unpaid carers, and the people requiring the care. The sooner we recognise this, the better.

PS: In case you’re wondering, the rest of my work day described at the beginning of this blog, was the usual chaotic juggle. I frantically multi-task from dawn till late evenings every day. I’ve done more things and answered more emails by 9am than most. I don’t usually have time to brush my hair but I’ve not missed an email or a call yet!

This is the second in a series of Oxfam blogs for Carers Week in the UK, which runs from June 9 to 15.
You can find Laura’s personal blog here and the podcast here that she co-hosts with Katy Styles.