Writing about carers is personal

Most every family will live their lives safe in the knowledge that only Grandma and a rare visiting Auntie will see them in their favourite Disney PJ’s, yawning on the way to their morning ablution. I wake up everyday to greet a variety of carers as they enter our home, 7.00am the door bell rings and our privacy evaporates. I mostly bump into the roster-ed carer on the stairs; I’m usually sleepy, padding barefoot towards the kettle for morning tea.

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