‘Why don’t you just leave?’ Said my friend as she sat down. We were meeting in a busy Pret A Manger coffee shop in central London before work as I was on one of my rare work trips.

My heart sank at that question. I was going to have to explain my unique situation for the umpteenth time. To be fair, it was a valid question, my grandmother shouldn’t be my responsibility. She has a son, my father, who is retired – let him look after her.

‘It’s not that simple.’ I answered, knowing exactly where this conversation was going. ‘She needs help, she’s basically blind. If I don’t cook, she doesn’t eat. And we can’t afford private carers everyday. I still can’t believe how expensive private care is.’

‘I don’t know, can’t your dad take care of her? It is not fair to let you do it. What about your life? This is destroying you, I can tell.’ Said my friend, gently.

I paused. She was right. I just wasn’t ready for that level of honesty before I’d had my first latte.

‘He won’t. He lives in France and is not prepared to change his life for her. He prefers to let me do it, very well, for free. He knows I’m suffering and doesn’t care. I’ve tried every approach with him. Ultimatums, having breakdowns, being logical.‘ I said, enumerating the options on my hand. ‘He won’t budge. Last time I told him I couldn’t do it anymore, I was crying my eyes out begging for him to do something, and he walked away. He literally walked away from me. He wouldn’t even speak to me about it.’ I said, trying not to sound as hurt as I felt. 

It is still very painful to me that my father would choose to let his daughter bear the brunt of looking after his mother, knowing the suffering it causes. Simply because it is more convenient for him, he can keep playing golf and live his retired life in France. On top of this, he insists that I can leave, without proposing any plan to care for his mother or offering any help. Gaslighting and unbelievable selfishness at its best.

‘That’s awful, I’m sorry.’ Said my friend quietly.

‘And she’s not bad enough for a home, she wouldn’t agree to go anyway. Not that we could afford it without selling her house. And if I did move out and get a place of my own somewhere close, I’d still have to go over everyday to cook, clean and do everything else. And stay to look after her when she gets sick, which happens a lot when you’re in your late 90s. I might as well stay there.’ I added, anticipating the next two questions.

My friend opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it and took a sip of her coffee.

‘And yes, I could just leave, and let her fend for herself. And when she falls or gets sick and dies, I blame myself.’ I said, knowing what she was thinking.

‘Yeah…it is so tough. You’re basically trapped.’ 

‘Yup, and I hate it. But at least I get to see you once in a blue moon and have depressing chats!’ I joked, trying to move the conversation along. 

‘Ha! OK, let’s talk about something else.’ She said, taking the hint.

I often have these conversations with friends. They usually can’t understand that the predicament I am in doesn’t have a workable solution. So I have to explain my perfect storm of a situation over and over again.

I am trapped. The lack of help and the fact I can work remotely means I have become one of the many millions of unpaid carers in the UK. The hidden, largely ignored group of people forced to give up large parts of their lives to look after the people they love. At least I am lucky in that I can still work. 

Here is the truth- nobody wants to be in this position. Nobody wants to give up their lives, and often lose jobs, family and friends to care for someone who couldn’t manage by themselves. There is nothing noble is this sacrifice, it is done out of pure necessity.

Let me leave you with another uncomfortable truth, 1 in 6 people in the UK will provide unpaid care by 2040. That means it will most probably happen to you at some point, dear reader, and you may also face the same set of circumstances I’m in. I would strongly advise you to have some uncomfortable family discussions about care, setting money aside for carers or care homes etc. so the burden doesn’t fall on one person. These conversations may also be helpful to weed out the hidden sociopathically selfish relatives. Always good to know.