When Kathy's care worker failed to arrive for her morning visit, she knew she was in trouble. Unable to dress, bathe, or use the bathroom alone, the wheelchair user relies completely on support staff for basic needs. But with worsening shortages, Kathy is left without care for hours on end.
“I’ve been stuck in a soiled nappy waiting for the next shift to start,” shares Kathy. “It’s dehumanizing and painful. But there’s nothing I can do.”
Across the UK, disabled and elderly people increasingly face such scenarios as demand for care outstrips the supply of willing workers. Burnout and difficult conditions have sparked a mass exodus from the sector. Families desperate for qualified staff find few options. For reliant families, the stakes are tremendous. Insufficient care leaves vulnerable people at risk of injury and grave health consequences. But competitive wages could stem the shortage — if political will existed. Even families able to pay market rates come up empty-handed. Covid exacerbated the shortage with workers leaving due to dangerous conditions, low pay and instability. Disability advocates warn the skeleton workforce left behind is at a breaking point. With complex needs requiring experienced staff, hastily hired temps or family volunteers just can’t fill gaps. Carer training is intensive — from operating specialized equipment to administering medication.
“It takes months to train someone properly on my daughter’s intricate care plan,” explains Marissa, mother to a teen with high care needs. “But we’re expected to use whoever they send.”
Rushed, inconsistent care from unsupported temporary cover also jeopardizes safety. Unable to establish bonds with regular carers, disabled people suffer anxiety on top of discomfort. Meanwhile, families exist in constant stress. For Kathy, weeks without her regular carers have meant painful bladder infections and falls from her wheelchair when untrained temps fail to secure her. The indignity and pain leave her distraught. Advocates argue fair pay and investment in training could stem the shortage. But with social care vastly underfunded, change won’t come easily. Without political intervention, the crisis falls on those least able to fix it alone.
“Care work epitomizes the phrase ‘labor of love’,” says the Disabled People’s Organisation’s Lily Maynard. “But love won’t pay workers’ bills. That takes proper funding the government won’t provide.”
With wages hovering just above minimum wage, often on zero-hour contracts, care roles offer little incentive and economic security. Demanding work, high pressures, minimal benefits and low status feed departures. Parents like Marissa believe change is a human rights duty. With social care expected to face a 400,000-worker shortage by 2030, drastic action is overdue. In the interim, families go to extremes to fill gaps, even resorting to remortgaging homes to pay higher wages. But for lower-income households, few options exist besides struggling without care.
“Care should be a respected career that supports families,” stresses Maynard. “But until workers are valued, shortages will continue harming those who most need support.”
For vulnerable people like Kathy, change can’t come soon enough. “I just want to feel human again,” she shares. “Reliable care makes all the difference.”
Valuing essential support work with compensation, stability and resources will take societal reflection on how we regard equity and human dignity. But lives depend on getting this right.
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