As part of our current ‘Gobby’ survey of people’s experiences of and hope for social care, we are collecting stories.
Here is Anne’s story
Anne’s story
My name is Anne, I am 87 years old. I live alone in a Yorkshire village in the bungalow I bought with my late Husband James many years ago. I am a Mam, Gran and Great Gran and have a large, busy, supportive family who mostly live nearby – I love them all dearly but sometimes they drive me crackers! My younger brother is a huge part of my life, I supported him a lot when we were younger, and he looks out for me now we are older, even though he is in poor health himself.
I have always been a busy person, working hard in retail and care for many years and running a B&B once upon a time. I love people, gossip, chatting and putting the world to rights. I like to think I am a good friend, and everyone says I have a listening ear.
A few years ago, I started having small strokes which made me less steady on my feet and less confident in my physical ability. The first challenge I faced was the huge and lovely garden which was Jame’s pride and joy and was far too much for me to manage. I found a gardener who was willing to help and this worked well.
Then, reluctantly, about 10 years ago, I found a local woman who I paid to do couple of hours a week in my house. She changes bed linen, cleans and generally spots things in the house that need doing and just does them. She has been amazing and has made my life so much easier and less stressful. Without her I don’t know where I would be.
Then about 5 years ago I fell for the first time. It was real shock, shaking my confidence and reducing what I could do for myself even more. Since then, life has brought a series of knocks – bereavement, falls, strokes, ill health, and hospital stays that were either really horrid or not so bad.
Over Covid and since then my family were great, visiting regularly and sharing their news, bringing, batch cooked homemade food and helping with my shopping. My GP in the village was also amazing – visiting me at home to give me jabs, check on my health and generally keep an eye on me. I know that is a bygone service, so I really appreciated it!
Despite all that I sometimes feel my world is getting smaller and smaller and I have to confess I don’t like that. I often think wistfully back to my old life and what used to be – holidays, time with friends and lots of laughs.
I am now really unsteady on my feet and use a walking frame to get around. I don’t go out that much. My last hospital stay was in a lovely local small hospital – the kind that are increasingly getting shut down! The staff were so nice and were concerned that I needed more help than I had when I went home. I wasn’t sure about this and said strongly that ‘carers’ were not something I wanted in my life – I couldn’t see what they would do for me that I couldn’t do for myself or that my family, gardener and cleaner were already doing so well. The hospital insisted and arranged for a care company to ‘call’ on me 4 times a day – twice for an hour and twice for a shorter ‘quick call’ visit.
I now have a reasonably consistent team of people who call on me in the morning and afternoon. They help me do bits and bobs in the house with the aim of offering a kind of security in case I fall…or worse!! My cleaner still comes and does all the things that are ‘not allowed’ by the care company. I would never want to lose her, but those rules and boundaries seem a bit odd to me. I was a home help for many years, so I know how I helped older people then…and how different (and worse?) it is now!
I have mixed feelings about the arrangements. On the one hand I am people person and I love having folks around, chatting, learning about their lives and being nicknamed ‘everybody’s Grandma’. On the other hand, I have come to know all about each of them and their many personal problems. I often feel like their problems are my problems and I worry about them all. I am not always sure this is a good thing. Sometimes I also feel like a small child rather than a respected adult – one young woman carer scolds me if I do something that she thinks I shouldn’t. I hate this. I know the risk I am taking if I decide to shower alone, and I feel strongly that this is my risk to make and not hers. The combined impact of all of this is I often feel that the older and frailer I get the less control and power I have over my life.
Even with the good and bad I know these low paid, undervalued lasses help me to stay in the home I love. I say a thanks every day for that. I also know that I would much rather this than a care home.
