Thoughts of a carer

  This is my first blog entry for a few months. I had to take time away, Viv has had some time in hospital and follow up treatment, life has been, unfortunately, just too busy for writing. Things are now settling down so normal service is slowly being resumed. *** We got home from the shops a couple of weeks ago and there was a red card through the door, from the Royal Mail: I had been sent a parcel from Allied Newspapers that they had been unable to deliver. I had no idea what it might be. The card said they would try to deliver it again on Monday, when we were also going to be out; it mentioned I could request it to be sent to my local Post Office using their online tool.  Several clicks later I thought I had achieved that, but no, they still tried to deliver it on Monday. Moreover, even two days later their online tool didn’t show the parcel being at the Post Office, but at the sorting office. The opening hours of that are 8am to 10am daily (yes, very customer-friendly), so...

  When I’m asked about my occupation these days, I reply ‘carer’. It is often written that caring has a big impact on an individual’s life, and, indeed, their freedom; I can only go by my experience. Caring has completely changed my life. In this essay I shall try to explain how.  I’ve actually had three phases of caring: pre-critical illness, during critical illness, and post-critical illness. Viv’s ‘during’ phase lasted fifteen months, after which she began a slow recovery; the effects on me of what happened in that time will last much longer. In an attempt to relate the effect of caring to that of another challenge I’ve experienced, I’d like to go back fifty years. Daily life and freedoms as a Bluecoat boy, 1971 In 1970 I was admitted to Christ’s Hospital , the Bluecoat school. I’ve seldom claimed to have enjoyed the six years I spent there; it should have been seven but I persuaded my parents to agree to me leaving at seventeen, rather than study further to attempt to get ...