Carers Quotes

Overeating is the addiction of choice of carers, and that's why it's come to be regarded as the lowest-ranking of all the addictions. It's a way of fucking yourself up while still remaining fully functional, because you have to. Fat people aren't indulging in the "luxury" of their addiction making them useless, chaotic, or a burden. Instead, they are slowly self-destructing in a way that doesn't inconvenience anyone. And that's why it's so often a woman's addiction of choice. All the quietly eating mums. All the KitKats in office drawers. All the unhappy moments, late at night, caught only in the fridge light.

I'm convinced that a lot of people run ultramarathons for the same reason they take mood-altering drugs. I don't mean to minimize the gifts of friendship, achievement, and closeness to nature that I've received in my running carer. But the longer and farther I ran, the more I realized that what I was often chasing was a state of mind - a place where worries that seemed monumental melted away, where the beauty and timelessness of the universe, of the present moment, came into sharp focus.

Because men’s crimes are always ours in the final analysis, aren’t they, Mr. Strike? Ultimate responsibility always lies with the woman, who should have stopped it, who should have acted, who must have known. Your failings are really our failings, aren’t they? Because the proper role of the woman is carer, and there’s nothing lower in this whole world than a bad mother.

I’M LOSING FAITH IN MY FAVORITE COUNTRY Throughout my life, the United States has been my favorite country, save and except for Canada, where I was born, raised, educated, and still live for six months each year. As a child growing up in Waterloo, Ontario, Canada, I aggressively bought and saved baseball cards of American and National League players, spent hours watching snowy images of American baseball and football games on black and white television and longed for the day when I could travel to that great country. Every Saturday afternoon, me and the boys would pay twelve cents to go the show and watch U.S. made movies, and particularly, the Superman serial. Then I got my chance. My father, who worked for B.F. Goodrich, took my brother and me to watch the Cleveland Indians play baseball in the Mistake on the Lake in Cleveland. At last I had made it to the big time. I thought it was an amazing stadium and it was certainly not a mistake. Amazingly, the Americans thought we were Americans. I loved the United States, and everything about the country: its people, its movies, its comic books, its sports, and a great deal more. The country was alive and growing. No, exploding. It was the golden age of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. The American dream was alive and well, but demanded hard work, honesty, and frugality. Everyone understood that. Even the politicians. Then everything changed. Partly because of its proximity to the United States and a shared heritage, Canadians also aspired to what was commonly referred to as the American dream. I fall neatly into that category. For as long as I can remember I wanted a better life, but because I was born with a cardboard spoon in my mouth, and wasn’t a member of the golden gene club, I knew I would have to make it the old fashioned way: work hard and save. After university graduation I spent the first half of my career working for the two largest oil companies in the world: Exxon and Royal Dutch Shell. The second half was spent with one of the smallest oil companies in the world: my own. Then I sold my company and retired into obscurity. In my case obscurity was spending summers in our cottage on Lake Rosseau in Muskoka, Ontario, and winters in our home in Port St. Lucie, Florida. My wife, Ann, and I, (and our three sons when they can find the time), have been enjoying that “obscurity” for a long time. During that long time we have been fortunate to meet and befriend a large number of Americans, many from Tom Brokaw’s “Greatest Generation.” One was a military policeman in Tokyo in 1945. After a very successful business carer in the U.S. he’s retired and living the dream. Another American friend, also a member of the “Greatest Generation”, survived The Battle of the Bulge and lived to drink Hitler’s booze at Berchtesgaden in 1945. He too is happily retired and living the dream. Both of these individuals got to where they are by working hard, saving, and living within their means. Both also remember when their Federal Government did the same thing. One of my younger American friends recently sent me a You Tube video, featuring an impassioned speech by Marco Rubio, Republican senator from Florida. In the speech, Rubio blasts the spending habits of his Federal Government and deeply laments his country’s future. He is outraged that the U.S. Government spends three hundred billion dollars, each and every month. He is even more outraged that one hundred and twenty billion of that three hundred billion dollars is borrowed. In other words, Rubio states that for every dollar the U.S. Government spends, forty cents is borrowed. I don’t blame him for being upset. If I had run my business using that arithmetic, I would be in the soup kitchens. If individual American families had applied that arithmetic to their finances, none of them would be in a position to pay a thin dime of taxes.

I had been conditioned my whole life to think one step ahead, to anticipate the needs of those around me and care about them deeply. Emotional labor was a skill set I had been trained in since childhood. My husband, on the other hand, hadn’t received that same education. He is a caring person, but he is not a skilled carer.

If more carers do not speak up about their experiences then how can we expect the system to accommodate us?

During the 24/7 grind of being a carer, it's all to easy to forget the fact that the person you're doing so much for is, and is obliged to be, more resourceful than you in many respects.

As children, a great number of us were taught by our parents, carers, extended family members, and teachers, that showing any form of emotional vulnerability was “not OK.” We were conditioned to believe that in order to be acceptable as human beings, we had to be like the other children. We were taught to “suck it up,” “stop being cry babies,” “get thicker skin,” “stop being so sensitive” and go participate with the other kids, even if they overwhelmed us with their energy.

And sometimes when she does remember, she calls me her little angel and she knows where she is and everything is all right for a second or a minute and then we cry; she for the life that she lost I for the woman I only know about through the stories of her children.

And why shouldn’t they? Carers aren’t machines. You try and do your best for every donor, but in the end, it wears you down. You don’t have unlimited patience and energy. So when you get a chance to choose, of course, you choose your own kind. That’s natural. There’s no way I could have gone on for

John Donne's 'A Valediction: forbidding mourning' concerns a sea voyage, and uses the image of a circle as an antidote to the abyss of loss and separation. He pictures the invisible but precious bonds which link carer and cared-for, lover and beloved in an attachment relationship as slender threads of gold.

If the world had more carers and sharers, we wouldn't need the services of therapists.

We all need someone to talk to. Don't let them bottle it up. Let them know you're there. Care for the carer.

All I ask of all my friends is that they understand this is truly a devastating neurological illness and not just about being a bit tired because its way and above beyond that. One day ME will be unravelled by the many researchers working tirelessly around the world I hope it's in my lifetime!

One of the foster carers kept a video library of musicals that we worked our way through en famille at weekends, and so, although I fervently wish that I wasn’t, I’m very familiar with the work of Lionel Bart, Rodgers and Hammerstein et al. Knowing I was here on the street where he lived was giving me a funny feeling, fluttery and edgy, verging on euphoric. I could almost understand why that frock-coated buffoon from My Fair Lady had felt the need to bellow about it outside Audrey Hepburn’s window.

She wipes her forehead with her wrist She's just back from a double shift Esther's a carer doing nights Behind her on the kitchen wall is a black and white picture of swallows in flight Her eyes are sore her muscles ache she cracks a beer and swigs it She holds it to her thirsty lips and necks it till it's finished. It's 4:18 a.m. again. Her brain is full of all she's done that day She knows that she won't sleep a wink before the sun is on it's way. She's worried about the world tonight. She's worried all the time. She don't know how she's supposed to put it from her mind . . . - Europe is Lost

For a young woman today, developing femininity successfully requires meeting three basic demands. The first of these is that she must defer to others, the second that she must anticipate and meet the needs of others, and the third, that she must seek self-definition through connection with another. The consequences of these requirements frequently mean that in denying themselves, women are unable to develop an authentic sense of their needs or a feeling of entitlement for their desires. Preoccupied with others' experience and unfamiliar with their own needs, women come to depend on the approval of those to whom they give. The imperative of affiliation, the culture demand that a woman must define herself through association with another, means that many aspects of self are under-developed, producing insecurity and a shaky sense of self. Under the competent carer who gives to the world lives a hungry, deprived and needy little girl who is unsure and ashamed of her desires and wants.

How do I validate him in the face of such profound personal loss and the outrageous denial by the medical community?

Mother is a verb as well as a noun. We all, male and female, have the capacity to mother others. And each of can, always, mother ourselves.

umbelliferae

Socialists, charity workers, carers, people who volunteer to help others; they're all - and he's quite convinced about this - they're all in reality mean-spirited bastards, either self-deceiving bastards or - for their own filthy left-wing reasons - deliberately trying to destroy the self-esteem of normal, healthily ambitious people like him. Because if only everybody looked after their own interests everything would be fine, see? Level playing field, with everybody nakedly ambitious and selfish; everybody knows where they are. If some people aren't totally selfish, or, even worse, 'pretend' not to be selfish, then it messes up the whole system. It makes it more unfair, not fairer, the way they'd claim. He calls people like that do-gooders, and they make him angry. I think he would actually prefer do-badders, which is a pretty fucked up attitude when you think about it. He feels quite strongly about them. Never misses an opportunity to complain that they're liars and frauds. Frankly, Ade, altogether, it makes him sound like - and I firmly believe he actually is - a complete cunt.

Women in Bolivia are credited with one year of pension contributions per child, up to a maximum of three children. As a side benefit (and a more long-term solution to the problem of feminised poverty), pension credits for the main carer have also been found to encourage men to take on more of the unpaid care load.60 Which raises the question: is women’s unpaid work under valued because we don’t see it – or is it invisible because we don’t value it?

Throughout his illness she had put his needs first, subsumed her own. Her sole objective had been to make his life as good as possible. She had changed shapre aound him. Reinvented herself to become the carer that his illness demanded, rather than the lover and partner she had once been. She had been selfless. And yet, all that time, he'd been planning and plotting behind her back, drafting this elaborate ending to their story. Damn him. Damn him. Damn him!

Overeating is the addiction of choice of carers, and that’s why it’s come to be regarded as the lowest-ranking of all the addictions. It’s a way of fucking yourself up while still remaining fully functional, because you have to. Fat people aren’t indulging in the “luxury” of their addiction making them useless, chaotic, or a burden. Instead, they are slowly self-destructing in a way that doesn’t inconvenience anyone. And that’s why it’s so often a woman’s addiction of choice.

You'll have heard the same talk. How maybe, after the fourth donation, even if you've technically completed, you're still conscious in some sort of way; how then you find there are more donations, plenty of them, on the other side of that line; how there are no more recovery centres, no carers, no friends; how there's nothing to do except watch your remaining donaitions until they switch you off. It's horror movie stuff, and most of the time people don't want to think about it. Not the whitecoats, not the carers---and usually not the donors.

He’d have known, too, he was raising questions to which even the doctors had no certain answers. You’ll have heard the same talk. How maybe, after the fourth donation, even if you’ve technically completed, you’re still conscious in some sort of way; how then you find there are more donations, plenty of them, on the other side of that line; how there are no more recovery centres, no carers, no friends; how there’s nothing to do except watch your remaining donations until they switch you off. It’s horror movie stuff, and most of the time people don’t want to think about it. Not the whitecoats, not the carers—and usually not the donors.

I could barely even say Will's name. And listening to their tales of family relationships, of thirty-year marriages, shared houses, lives, children, I felt like a fraud. I had been a carer for someone for six months. I'd loved him, and watched him end his life. How could these strangers possibly understand what Will and I had been to each other during that time? How could I explain the way we had so swiftly understood each other, the shorthand jokes, the blunt truths and raw secrets? How could I convey the way those short months had changed the way I felt about everything? The way he had skewed my world so totally that it made no sense without him in it?

Wandering has long been seen as part of the pathology of dementia. Doctors, carers, and relatives often try to stop patients from venturing out alone, out of concern they will injure themselves, or won’t remember the way back. When a person without dementia goes for a walk, it is called going for a stroll, getting some fresh air, or exercising, anthropologist Maggie Graham observes in her recent paper. When a person with dementia goes for a walk beyond prescribed parameters, it is typically called wandering, exit-seeking, or elopement. Yet wandering may not be so much a part of the disease as a therapeutic response to it. Even though dementia and Alzheimer’s in particular can cause severe disorientation, Graham says the desire to walk should be desire to be alive and to grow, as opposed to as a product of disease and deterioration. Many in the care profession share her view. The Alzheimer’s Society, the UK’s biggest dementia supportive research charity, considers wandering an unhelpful description, because it suggests aimlessness, whereas the walking often has a purpose. The charity lists several possible reasons why a person might feel compelled to move. They may be continuing the habit of a lifetime; they may be bored, restless, or agitated; they may be searching for a place or a person from their past that they believe to be close by; or maybe they started with a goal in mind, forgot about it, and just kept going. It is also possible that they are walking to stay alive. Sat in a chair in a room they don’t recognise, with a past they can’t access, it can be a struggle to know who they are. But when they move they are once again wayfinders, engaging in one of the oldest human endeavours, and anything is possible.

The most groundbreaking and important work can easily be forgotten and undervalued. Just like cleaning, nursing and teaching today, some of the most important jobs that keep society functioning, are desperately underpaid. While some might argue that bankers, academics and CEOs are paid more because they contribute more to the economy, we need to remember that pay is as much about power as it is productivity. Imagine for a moment what would happen if all the hedge fund managers in the City of London decided collectively to quit their jobs. How much of an impact on our lives would this actually have? While I'm sure there is a case to be argued that the loss of these jobs would cause some damage to the economy, it is not unreasonable to ask whether the world might actually be a better place? Compare this to the alternative case where all the carers - the workers who look after children, the elderly and the sick - stopped turning up for work. The negative human impact would be undeniably immediate and devastating.

They never thought about their age, was a common reply; they had once been adolescents, then they were thirty, fifty, sixty, and never gave it a thought, so why should they do so now? Some of them were very restricted, finding it hard to walk or move, and yet there was nowhere they wanted to go. Others were absentminded, confused, or forgetful, but this worried their carers and relatives more than it did them. Catherine Hope insisted that the residents of the second and third levels remain active, and it was Irina’s job to keep them interested, entertained, and connected. “However old one is, we need a goal in our lives. It’s the best cure for many ills,” Cathy insisted. In her case, the goal had always been to help others, and her accident had not altered this in the slightest. On Friday mornings, Irina used to accompany the most active residents on their street protests, to make sure things didn’t get out of hand. She also took part in the vigils for noble causes and in the knitting club; all the women who could wield a pair of needles (apart from Alma Belasco) were knitting

We already have eight hundred million people living in hunger—and population is growing by eighty million a year. Over a billion people are in poverty—and present industrial strategies are making them poorer, not richer. The percentage of old people will double by 2050—and already there aren’t enough young people to care for them. Cancer rates are projected to increase by seventy percent in the next fifteen years. Within two decades our oceans will contain more microplastics than fish. Fossil fuels will run out before the end of the century. Do you have an answer to those problems? Because I do. Robot farmers will increase food production twentyfold. Robot carers will give our seniors a dignified old age. Robot divers will clear up the mess humans have made of our seas. And so on, and so on—but every single step has to be costed and paid for by the profits of the last.” He paused for breath, then went on, “My vision is a society where autonomous, intelligent bots are as commonplace as computers are now. Think about that—how different our world could be. A world where disease, hunger, manufacturing, design, are all taken care of by AI. That’s the revolution we’re shooting for. The shopbots get us to the next level, that’s all. And you know what? This is not some binary choice between idealism or realism, because for some of us idealism is just long-range realism. This shit has to happen. And you need to ask yourself, do you want to be part of that change? Or do you want to stand on the sidelines and bitch about the details?” We had all heard this speech, or some version of it, either in our job interviews, or at company events, or in passionate late-night tirades. And on every single one of us it had had a deep and transformative effect. Most of us had come to Silicon Valley back in those heady days when it seemed a new generation finally had the tools and the intelligence to change the world. The hippies had tried and failed; the yuppies and bankers had had their turn. Now it was down to us techies. We were fired up, we were zealous, we felt the nobility of our calling…only to discover that the general public, and our backers along with them, were more interested in 140 characters, fitness trackers, and Grumpy Cat videos. The greatest, most powerful deep-learning computers in humanity’s existence were inside Google and Facebook—and all humanity had to show for it were adwords, sponsored links, and teenagers hooked on sending one another pictures of their genitals.

Ever since she was a young girl, [Patricia Highsmith] had felt an extraordinary empathy for animals, particularly cats. The creatures, she said, 'provide something for writers that humans cannot: companionship that makes no demands or intrusions, that is as restful and ever-changing as a tranquil sea that barely moves'. Her affection for cats was 'a constant as was feline companionship wherever her domestic situation permitted,' says Kingsley. 'As for animals in general, she saw them as individual personalities often better behaved, and endowed with more dignity and honesty than humans. Cruelty to or neglect of any helpless living creature could turn her incandescent with rage.' Janice Robertson remembers how [...] Highsmith was walking through the streets of Soho when she saw a wounded pigeon lying in the gutter. 'Pat decided there and then that this pigeon should be rescued,' says Janice. 'Although I think Roland persuaded her that it was past saving, she really was distraught. She couldn't bear to see animals hurt.' Bruno Sager, Highsmith's carer at the end of her life, recalls the delicacy with which the writer would take hold of a spider which had crawled into the house, making sure to deposit it safely in her garden. 'For her human beings were strange - she thought she would never understand them - and perhaps that is why she liked cats and snails so much,' he says.

Faced by five glaring goblins, Jack Frost hesitated. “Perrie is the only one who can help you,” said Kirsty. With a sigh and a frown, Jack Frost held out the siren and Perrie took it. A big smile spread across her face as she hugged the siren to her chest. “Now you have to keep your end of the bargain,” said Jack Frost. “I always keep my promises,” said Perrie. She waved her wand over Jack Frost and the goblins. At once Jack Frost jumped to his feet, quickly followed by the goblins. But they didn’t say thank you to Perrie. Jack Frost just glared at the fairies. “You pesky fairies have spoiled everything again,” he grumbled. “How am I supposed to win the Helper of the Year Award without the magical flashing

... we might be drawn into a more left-centric way of hearing ... and experience the promotion of safety as a somewhat mechanical process in which A inevitably leads to B-- [ie: the belief that 'my being in a ventral state will automatically draw you into one, and if it doesn't then there is something wrong with one of us'.] Viewing it that way encourages us to turn social engagement into a technique, even a manipulation of the other person's nervous system toward what we view as a more desirable state. Ironically, when the left hemisphere is dominant rather than supportive of right-centric attending, we have already moved out of social engagement and thus are in no position to offer safe space to another. When we make an effort to return to it, we have forgotten that neuroception is continually arising automatically and not under the control of our will. The very pressure to activate ventral makes the space between us unsafe.

If they are not distorted by outside influences the relationship between a baby and her carers can help the adults to grow as well as the child.

loved them and they were the new kids on the block. I called my mum. ‘Are you sitting down?

Indeed, during their final days the terminally ill are often said to be almost living in two worlds, swapping nonchalantly between chatting with palliative carers and family physically present in the room, and interacting with visions of previously deceased individuals who appear to be – in some way – there to help them through the dying process.

But codependency is inappropriate, over-the-top loyalty, caring and supportiveness.

Nevertheless, the large number of experiences of this type reported by carers suggest that it is an area that deserves far more attention. If it can be shown that patients with significant degradation of their brain tissue (for example, in advanced cases of Alzheimer’s Disease) become lucid, with memories intact, in their final days, what implications does this have for the relationship between mind and brain?

It is true that the great religions of the world have produced some bad outcomes, particularly when married to politics: war, terrorism, conflict and corruption. We cannot hide from that. It is equally true, however, that when such religious expression is faithful to the founders’ principles, it produces spiritually attuned carers for humanity. such as William Wilberforce (abolition of slavery), William and Catherine Booth (founders of the Salvation Army), Mahatma Gandhi and the present-day Dalai Lama. These are but a few among the many self-transcendent champions of mercy, human dignity and human rights whose wellsprings of compassion are religious in origin.

It was interesting to note how rarely social workers appeared to have initiated kin placements (4%) (see also Doolan et al. 2004) ... Given how rarely it appeared that social workers had made the first move to instigate kin placements, it was not surprising to find that for the majority of children with unrelated foster carers (57%) a kin placement had apparently not been considered.

Alzheimer’s, senile dementia, dementia. What’s the difference? Not much for the carer. Ma is just a confused old person.

Around the world there are 31 million girls who don’t get a single day at school. More than 10 million girls are married off as child brides every year. Millions more are forced to lose their education and chance of better future employment as they are sent out to work as cheap child labour or kept at home to serve as carers. The evidence is clear that providing universal education in developing countries could have huge impact on economic growth … and the results are starkest of all when it comes to educating girls. As ever it makes both big and small sense to invest in girls, and it is time to close that gender

The Circle of Security map is a user-friendly guide to a child’s emotional state as it moves from attachment to exploration and back again. The ‘safe haven’ of the parent or carer (one who is ‘bigger, stronger, wiser and kind’) is illustrated by an inviting pair of grownup hands. ‘My behaviour actually means that I need you,’ the cartoon toddler says with arms upheld. ‘Stay with me until we both understand this feeling that seems too much for me alone.’ That

Some addicts do not even have basic parenting and instead are beaten, sexually abused, left to be looked after by a dysfunctional ‘carer’, put in orphan homes or rejected by their community. If you calculate the millions of emotionally neglected children and observe them growing up together trying to ‘get by in life’, you will understand why many adults (adult children) have addictive personalities.

ROUTINES FOR BREASTFED BABIES FROM ONE TO EIGHT WEEKS OLD Routine for a breastfed baby aged one to two weeks This routine is for a baby aged seven to thirteen days old (and until she regains her birth weight and is over 3 kg). Feed times 7 am 10 am 1 pm 4 pm 6 pm 9.30 pm 2.30 am (at the latest) Sleep times 8.15 am 11.30 am 2.30 pm Bedtime 7 pm 6.40 am Express as much as you can, up to 90 ml, from your right breast. 7 am Wake your baby up and feed her for up to 25 minutes from your left breast. You will wake and feed her even if she last fed at 5.30 am, so she is always starting her day at the same time and on a full tummy. Then feed her for up to fifteen minutes from your right breast. 8.15 am Swaddle your baby and put her in bed on her back awake and allow her to self-settle (see guide to self-settling starting here). 9.40 am Express as much as you can, up to 90 ml, from your left breast. 10 am Wake your baby up and feed her for up to 25 minutes from your right breast. Then feed her for up to 15 minutes from your left breast. 11.30 am Swaddle your baby and put her in bed on her back awake and allow her to self-settle. 1 pm Wake your baby up and feed her for up to 25 minutes from your left breast. Then feed her for up to 25 minutes from your right breast. 2.30 pm Swaddle your baby and put her down in bed on her back awake and allow her to self-settle. 4 pm Wake your baby up and feed her for up to 25 minutes from your right breast. Then feed her for up to 25 minutes from your left breast. After this feed, put your baby down somewhere comfortable and safe, so if she feels like having a little nap before her bath she may. But don’t put her in bed as she may choose not to sleep. 5.20 pm Bath baby, or give top-to-toe wash. 6 pm Feed your baby for up to 25 minutes from your left breast. Then feed her for up to 25 minutes from your right breast. Or you or another carer could give her a bottle of expressed milk. If you don’t breastfeed your baby at the 6 pm feed during the first week of the routine while establishing breastfeeding, you should express 30 ml from each breast at 8 pm instead of the suggested time of 9 pm. 7 pm Swaddle your baby and put her in bed on her back awake and allow her to self-settle. 9 pm Express as much as you can, up to 90 ml, from your right breast. 9.30 pm Wake your baby up and feed her for up to 25 minutes from your left breast. Then feed her for up to fifteen minutes from your right breast. Night feeds Set your alarm clock for 2.30 am every night: in case your baby has not woken for a feed it is very important you don’t go more than five hours without feeding your baby on this routine. But if your baby woke, for example, at 12.30 am, then reset your alarm clock for 5.30 am. If she woke any time after 1.35 am and fed, however, reset your alarm for just before 6.40 am, so you can get up and express. If your baby wakes at 6.30 am, or while you are expressing, and is crying you should feed her. If your baby seems content to wait then you should try to express first and feed her as near to 7 am as possible. However, if you feed her first you should express after the feed. During night feeds, try not to talk to your baby and keep the lights dim so your baby starts to understand the difference between night and day. Important note: By two weeks old your baby should be back to her original birth weight. If your baby has regained her birth weight and is over 3 kg, you may advance to the two-to four-week routine. If your baby has not regained her birth weight or is still under 3 kg, please stay on the above routine until she has reached these goals. When you do advance to the next routine, follow each routine for two weeks until you reach the ten-week routine. Then your next move of routine will be when your baby starts on solids. Tip: If you find your baby is too sleepy after a bath to take a good feed try feeding her on one breast before the bath and the other side after the bath.

target still seems achievable. For example, Eldridge et al. (2010: 82) investigated the vocabulary needs of learners who are studying school subjects in a second language, and found that the evidence ‘suggests a distinct lexical threshold of around 1,600–1,700 of the most frequent word families.’ (A word family is a group of words that share the same root but have different affixes, as in care, careful, careless, carefree, uncaring, carer; 1,600 to 1,700 word families represent around 6,000 individual words.) They add that ‘students who fall even 200 or 300 word families below the threshold seem to have a vastly reduced vocabulary in total and consequently find it extremely difficult to cope with content studies in the medium of English.

Using theory can help to justify actions and explain practice to service users, carers and society in general.

formal meeting, in which all concerned parties are present, so that social services can give the new carers some background and so that a plan of action for the child or children’s future can be put in place. But in practice … Hmm, I thought, we’d been

Engaging with other carers developed my identity and made me feel I was not alone in the community

Contents Beginnings 1. Facing Up 2. Getting Older 3. The Brain, the Mind and the Self 4. Memory and Forgetting 5. The Diagnosis 6. Shame 7. The Carers 8. Connecting through the Arts 9. Home 10. The Later Stages 11. Hospitals 12. At the End 13. Saying Goodbye 14. Death

covered in stickers, scribbled notes and photographs of children. Addie wondered who the children were and whether they all lived here, with Ruth and Sam. Whatever Penny and Ruth were planning, Addie’s photo was never going on that fridge. She strained to hear what Penny was saying to Ruth. Penny had her serious face on, which was worrying. Ruth was nodding. She glanced over at Addie, her eyes soft and watery. Like the police officer’s eyes, just before she made Addie let go of Mam’s hand. ‘Almost done, Addie,’ she said, smiling. She turned back to the stove, stirred her pan of milk, as if everything was normal. As if everything was fine. Ruth didn’t look like a foster carer. Not like Dawn anyway. Dawn, with her pink hair and high heels, her endless phone calls, her high-pitched

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I felt the familiar tearing inside, my job tugging me one way, Mum and Gran the other. The job was like a new baby, demanding total commitment and unsociable hours, especially with the Hamilton case. I couldn't bear to fail. I had to prove I was good enough for the opportunity I'd been given. If Mum got more anxious, how could I find the time to be with her? And we needed my salary. Without the money I contributed, Gran couldn't have a private carer. It had been so upsetting for her when she'd had a different one each day, someone she didn't even know, doing the most intimate and unspeakable things to her.

Grief, I’ve learned, is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give, but cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go.

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Today, I was at church and saw a blind teenager who obviously felt lost. Feeling like I should help, I went over and asked if he needed anything. He said, ‘I can’t find my carer.’ I asked, ‘What does she look like?’ FML

Compassion was a small flame, needing care and attention and protection from the wind. Perhaps the professional carers’ first object was to preserve what they sensed as precious in themselves.

Those procedures might include certification by independent practitioners that the patient was terminally ill within the meaning of the relevant law; that the patient had voluntarily requested euthanasia, having been fully informed of the prognostic and palliative facts; that there was no undue influence on the patient from relatives or carers; that there had been a ‘cooling-off’ period since the request for euthanasia; that the request was signed and duly witnessed; and so on.

I have seen three beautiful young girls in their 30's within the last few years pass away due to this illness, who not only fought their battles with this illness but who played an important role in raising awareness of ME. Yes you can die as a result of having ME if you become at the severe end of it which 25% do.

I wake up every morning, thinking that this can't really be happening. What parallel universe have I entered?

Over the years, I have cared for loved ones with advanced Alzheimer, late stage cardiovascular and renal disease and Stage 4 cancer. But none of those experiences prepared me for being a carer for a Severe or Very Severe ME patient. The breadth, severity and unprediciability of the symptoms and dysfunction from one person ro the next and from one day to the next can be hard to comprehend and mainstream medical education doesn't help.

How do I deal with my own frustration and outrage at the injustice of what has happened to my son and all ME patients and with my own inadequacies and inability to change that?

Four things about learning how to care for someone with dementia are important to realize. Firstly, most family carers are unfamiliar with the effects of dementia on people’s abilities, and people with dementia due to Alzheimer’s disease, or another disease, function in ways that most of us have never experienced.  Common sense does not help here. The carers have to learn how to understand new information about memory processes and how to cope with situations that are new to them. Secondly, don’t be too hard on yourself. If you realize you have made a mistake in the way you have been interacting with a person with dementia, learn from it, change what you are doing, but don’t hang onto the guilt. Forgive yourself. Know that every family goes through these painful experiences and feelings of being inadequate. Apologize to the person with dementia and then distract them with something fun. Thirdly, understand that each person with dementia is unique in the way they behave and how they understand what is happening. What has helped one family carer to cope may not help the next. Be patient with yourself and the person with dementia and never stop trying to find ways to help yourselves. Coping often means trying one thing after the other, and then using the approach that works for as long as it continues to work. Fourthly, scolding and arguing will not help them learn because they have lost most of their capacity to learn with their short-term memory. Scolding will, however, establish a procedural memory in their mind that interacting with you is always unpleasant.

Invalids were habitually hated by their carers. It took a special government grant, instituted in 1850 in the Seine and Loiret départements, to persuade poor families to keep their ailing relatives at home instead of sending them to that bare waiting room of the graveyard, the municipal hospice. When there was just enough food for the living, the mouth of a dying person was an obscenity.

Ganges, the Carrier of Corpses Don’t worry, be happy, in one voice speak the corpses O King, in your Ram-Rajya, we see bodies flow in the Ganges O King, the woods are ashes, No spots remain at crematoria, O King, there are no carers, Nor any pall-bearers, No mourners left And we are bereft With our wordless dirges of dysphoria Libitina enters every home where she dances and then prances, O King, in your Ram-Rajya, our bodies flow in the Ganges O King, the melting chimney quivers, the virus has us shaken O King, our bangles shatter, our heaving chest lies broken The city burns as he fiddles, Billa-Ranga thrust their lances, O King, in your Ram-Rajya, I see bodies flow in the Ganges O King, your attire sparkles as you shine and glow and blaze O King, this entire city has at last seen your real face Show your guts, no ifs and buts, Come out and shout and say it loud, “The naked King is lame and weak” Show me you are no longer meek, Flames rise high and reach the sky, the furious city rages; O King, in your Ram-Rajya, do you see bodies flow in the Ganges?.

Its tough being a carer. You have to put your own life on hold. It isolates you from people, makes it impossible to hold down a job.

Suzanne’s children looked introspective, isolated – and lonely, so incredibly lonely. The only carer to be found was the grandmother. The mother was nowhere to be seen.11

It is fair to say that, though the main deficits incurred by damage to the left hemisphere are in the twin important areas of the use of language and of the right hand, the world itself usually remains recognisable, and mainly, though not always wholly, undisturbed. That is because the right hemisphere is functioning as normal. Things are very different when the damage is in the right hemisphere, and the subject is more – or wholly – dependent on the left. When those who care for left hemisphere stroke patients were asked to specify the most important problem encountered, they named difficulty writing or spelling; by contrast, when those who care for right hemisphere stroke patients were asked, it was loss of empathy. Almost half of carers for those with right hemisphere stroke reported as among the most important problems a whole range of cognitive and emotional impairments, as well as alterations to personality. Not one of the carers for left hemisphere stroke sufferers did so.4 For those with right hemisphere damage, they and their world had changed. For those with left hemisphere damage, they and their world were recognisably the same: it was their ability to handle it, to make use of it, that had altered. As we have seen, the foundational difference between the hemispheres lies in the way they attend – and how you attend changes the world. It also changes you, the one who is doing the attending. Since it is of such consummate importance, let’s take a closer look at attention from a hemisphere point of view.

Indeed, if one was a cold-hearted economist, whose sole aim was to maximise GDP, or even better GDP per head, then one’s advice on the best way to respond to the coronavirus pandemic would have been to do absolutely nothing, to ignore it entirely and let it take its course. It primarily affects the elderly; the average age of death so far in the UK has been about 80; and even then the younger deaths are mainly amongst those with other severe medical problems, co-morbidity in the jargon. This is a group largely dependent on others to help with daily living, and thus stopping their carers from producing goods and other services to swell GDP per head.

men’s crimes are always ours in the final analysis, aren’t they, Mr Strike? Ultimate responsibility always lies with the woman, who should have stopped it, who should have acted, who must have known. Your failings are really our failings, aren’t they? Because the proper role of the woman is carer,

Practical Mindfulness (The Sonnet) When someone's world is crumbling down, Reach out to lend a shoulder not analysis. If the world had more carers and sharers, We wouldn't need the services of therapists. Most humans are raised to be selfish robots, Then they spend their life on a therapist's sofa. When someone's going through a period of grief, Only the mindless comments, 'have you tried yoga!' For the human mind to be whole and healthy, You gotta empty it of all the unhealthy junk. And there is no greater junk on the face of earth, Than the traditions that make us self-centric drunk. Elimination of coldness is the highest of all wisdom. Treat the common cold, and you'll treat all descension.

Each year, news stories reveal the neglect and abuse that goes on behind closed doors - because to be a professional carer is a woefully undervalued and underpaid occupation, and if someone can't remember they can't tell tales; and because as a culture we have infantilized and even dehumanized the old, frail and cognitively impaired.

Wandering has long been seen as part of the pathology of dementia. Doctors, carers, and relatives often try to stop patients from venturing out alone, out of concern they will injure themselves, or won’t remember the way back. “When a person without dementia goes for a walk, it is called going for a stroll, getting some fresh air, or exercising,” anthropologist Megan Graham observes in her recent paper. “When a person with dementia goes for a walk beyond prescribed parameters, it is typically called wandering, exit-seeking, or elopement. Yet wandering may not be so much a part of the disease as a therapeutic response to it. Even though dementia, and Alzheimer’s in particular, can cause severe disorientation, Graham says the desire to walk should be be seen as “an intention to be alive and to grow, as opposed to as a product of disease and deterioration.” Many in the care profession share her view. The Alzheimer’s Society, the UK’s biggest dementia support and research charity, considers “wandering” an unhelpful description, because “it suggests aimlessness, whereas the walking often has a purpose”. The charity lists several possible reasons why a person might feel compelled to move: they may be continuing the habit of a lifetime; they may be bored, restless, or agitated; they may be searching for a place or person from their past that they believe to be close by. Or maybe they started with a goal in mind, forgot about it, and just kept going. It is also possible that they are walking to stay alive. Sat in a chair in a room they don’t recognise, with a past they can’t access, it can be a struggle to know who they are. But when they move they are once again wayfinders, engaging in one of the oldest human endeavours, and anything is possible.

Can’t Handle Freedom (The Sonnet) Whole human is the first human, All else are but wannabe. Designation human says it all, Yet why do you chase terminology! Even when you broke free from religion, You could not handle that utter freedom! Like a rightful new descendant of divisionists, You chained the word "human" with an "ism". It is like you can't handle being free, You have to stay enslaved by one ism or another. They used to keep the world apart with religions, Today the same is done by new-age dividers. Human, human, human - that is all we ever are. Not humanist, not socialist, just carers of each other.

Many of you will understand how easy it is for a carer to succumb to despair. How easy it is for exhaustion and hopelessness to take hold.

He moved into her house allegedly to care for her. Beulah knows he’s just after the house. It’s a highly valuable piece of luxury waterfront property now. Horton is a caregiver, not a carer. Sometimes she wonders if he’s trying to hasten her demise. Horton is Beulah’s big regret in life. She bites into the soggy biscuit and wonders what her boy will do with all the family china when she’s gone.

Human, human, human, that is all we ever are. Not humanist, not socialist, just carers of each other.

With the web uncovered, the intricacies of the belowground alliance still remained a mystery to me, until I started my doctoral research in 1992. Paper birches, with their lush leaves and gossamer bark, seemed to be feeding the soil and helping their coniferous neighbors. But how? In pulling back the forest floor using microscopic and genetic tools, I discovered that the vast belowground mycelial network was a bustling community of mycorrhizal fungal species. These fungi are mutualistic. They connect the trees with the soil in a market exchange of carbon and nutrients and link the roots of paper birches and Douglas firs in a busy, cooperative Internet. When the interwoven birches and firs were spiked with stable and radioactive isotopes, I could see, using mass spectrometers and scintillation counters, carbon being transmitted back and forth between the trees, like neurotransmitters firing in our own neural networks. The trees were communicating through the web! I was staggered to discover that Douglas firs were receiving more photosynthetic carbon from paper birches than they were transmitting, especially when the firs were in the shade of their leafy neighbors. This helped explain the synergy of the pair’s relationship. The birches, it turns out, were spurring the growth of the firs, like carers in human social networks. Looking further, we discovered that the exchange between the two tree species was dynamic: each took different turns as “mother,” depending on the season. And so, they forged their duality into a oneness, making a forest. This discovery was published by Nature in 1997 and called the “wood wide web.” The research has continued unabated ever since, undertaken by students, postdoctoral researchers, and other scientists, with a myriad of discoveries about belowground communication among trees. We have used new scientific tools, as they are invented, along with our curiosity and dreams, to peer into the dark world of the soil and illuminate the social network of trees. The wood wide web has been mapped, traced, monitored, and coaxed to reveal the beautiful structures and finely adapted languages of the forest network. We have learned that mother trees recognize and talk with their kin, shaping future generations. In addition, injured trees pass their legacies on to their neighbors, affecting gene regulation, defense chemistry, and resilience in the forest community. These discoveries have transformed our understanding of trees from competitive crusaders of the self to members of a connected, relating, communicating system. Ours is not the only lab making these discoveries—there is a burst of careful scientific research occurring worldwide that is uncovering all manner of ways that trees communicate with each other above and below ground.

. . . my experience as a psychotherapist working with people with troubled bodies shows that the kind of touch we receive when we are little and the impact of a mother's (or carer's) physical sense of herself are crucial to the development of our own body sense. Our bodies are a lot more than an executed blueprint given by our DNA.

Each of us was mothered into being.

In his great work Attachment and Loss (published in three volumes in 1969, 1972 and 1980), Bowlby explained that an adult’s sense of self is built up through the relationships it has as a child: if a parent or carer is warm, consistent, attuned, steady and kind, the child will thrive. It will have confidence in itself and in the world. It will know how to love and will have the courage to start relationships, secure in the knowledge that it can complain calmly if its needs are neglected.

Being a carer is about making mistakes. Like a mother who learns the ropes of motherhood with her first newborn, a carer learns on the job and more often than not gets it wrong.

Here’s secret that beautiful feet carries you around life time and it doesn’t justify and judge you.Would you help it by taking good care of it.

Balance feet carering is the major point for living healthy life by doing it physical and spiritual to complete your beauty.

Boulanger is not a one-off. Women working as carers and cleaners can lift more in a shift than a construction worker or a miner.

When the interwoven birches and firs were spiked with stable and radioactive isotopes, I could see, using mass spectrometers and scintillation counters, carbon being transmitted back and forth between the trees, like neurotransmitters firing in our own neural networks. The trees were communicating through the web! I was staggered to discover that Douglas firs were receiving more photosynthetic carbon from paper birches than they were transmitting, especially when the firs were in the shade of their leafy neighbors. This helped explain the synergy of the pair’s relationship. The birches, it turns out, were spurring the growth of the firs, like carers in human social networks. Looking further, we discovered that the exchange between the two tree species was dynamic: each took different turns as “mother,” depending on the season. And so, they forged their duality into a oneness, making a forest. This discovery was published by Nature in 1997 and called the “wood wide web.

As I write in the middle of this crisis, we can see that we have failed our elderly, it's the difference between caring and not caring, and the problem for carers is that they are currently doing their job in a society where the majority of people, and those with power, don't really care. The protective ring around our care homes that the government said they were implementing, didn't really protect anyone after all.

a “caregiver” might dislike the person to whom they are giving care, while a “carer” cares about the person, period.

We are becoming used to simple solutions for all our problems. It is logical and reasonable for people to expect an easy fix for dog behavior issues, based on a simple and intuitive explanation. This is the poisoned apple that is so attractive to carers of troubled dogs.

Overeating, or comfort eating, is the cheap, meek option for self-satisfaction, and self-obliteration. You get all the temporary release of drinking, fucking, or taking drugs, but without - and I think this is the important bit - ever being left in a state where you can't remain responsible and cogent. In a nutshell, then, choosing food as your drug - sugar highs, or the deep, soporific calm of carbs, the Valium of the working classes - you can still make the packed lunches, do the school run, look after the baby, pop in on your mum, and then stay up all night with the ill five-year-old - something that is not an option if you're coming off a gigantic bag of skunk or regularly climbing into the cupboard under the stairs and knocking back quarts of Scotch. Overeating is the addiction of choice of carers, and that's why it's come to be regarded as the lowest-ranking of all the addictions. It's a way of fucking yourself up while still remaining fully functional, because you have to. Fat people aren't indulging in the "luxury" of their addiction making them useless, chaotic, or a burden. Instead, they are slowly self-deconstructing in a way that doesn't inconvenience anyone. And that's why it's so often a woman's addiction of choice.

-The four pillars of childhood are necessary for optimal emotional development of the formative child and thus the adults. These are: 1) Unconditional love and positive reinforcement from our parents and/or primary carers. 2) Discipline – All children need accompanying boundaries to go with this unconditional love. 3) Encouragement and respect from our parents and/or primary carers, during the formative years (and beyond) for our own personal development. 4) Self Control – By this we mean "control of the self", the sense of control for oneself – feeling safe and having one's own space.

They were both Filipino and laughed no matter what you said. Were the Philippines really such a happy place or were the carers just happy not to be there?

Biomarkers of inflammation, like cytokines and CRP, are increased in many stressful situations, including poverty, debt and social isolation. Carers of patients with Alzheimer’s disease, people with day-to-day responsibility for a spouse or relative with dementia, have increased inflammatory biomarkers.74 So do adults who suffered poverty, neglect or maltreatment as children.

People experiencing many kinds of difficulties find mindfulness useful. There have been positive results from studies involving people experiencing post-traumatic stress disorder, paranoia, irritable bowel syndrome, insomnia, asthma, fibromyalgia, tinnitus, bipolar disorder, loneliness, and the stress of being a carer, among many other situations.4 There seem to be few circumstances in which practising awareness doesn’t help, and mindfulness is now an option that health professionals turn to in supporting the people they work with. However, in each of these instances, changes seem to come as a by-product of people learning foundational practices and attitudes, such as the ones we’ve been exploring together, and applying what they learn to their lives. This appears to be the best way to approach the training, for as soon as we try to make mindfulness solve a particular

E de-ajuns că trecutul este un permanent colocator al fiecăruia dintre noi, un colocator de carer nu poți scăpa. Să-l mai vâri și-n prezentul altuia?

As far as I am concerned a carer who gives herself airs because she washes out pus-soaked bandages is no better than an overdressed airhead flaunting her bling

dominated by the needs of the damaged child, but I don’t mind. Like many foster carers, I’m driven by a powerful need to ease their pain. I remember myself as a child, walking by our local newsagents on the way to school. Outside the shop stood a little wooden figure of a beggar boy with polio, both legs fixed in metal callipers and a forlorn expression painted on his face. He held up a sign saying ‘Please give’ and there was a slot in the top of his head for pennies. Undeterred by the bird droppings across his shoulders, I would give him a quick hug, longing to take him home and make him better. My pulse quickens as we pass over a deserted bridge lined with old-fashioned street-lamps. After seven years of fostering I still feel an intense excitement when taking on a new child. It’s only been a few days since my last placement ended and already I’m itching to fill the void. As we drive past the riverside council blocks I’m reminded of one of my previous charges – three-year-old Connor, a boy who spent a large part of his day roaming the

When you look after a relative, when you’re a carer, you’re so removed from other people. You exist in a realm of sickness, age, worry. It’s debilitating.

Brian, I know you told me your last job was your last job, a strange feeling came over me when I took the booking, they asked for someone with an abundance of patience and who has better patience than you, no one, better care, and that best carer, my friend is you, Brian you listen to me, and you listen good, think of this as your retirement present, think of this as a way of closure for all the wonderful work you have done for the past thirty years, if not for my sake, then do it for the sake of an old eighty-four-year-old woman