Looking back, it seems I spent most of the weekend worrying and sleeping.
Whenever Sarah, our daughter, has a weekend short break, I fondly imagine myself bursting with energy to do all the jobs not done in the ordinary way - starting out in the garden, maybe - or all those fun activities there's just no time for - like getting on the road again on my bike. The reality, most often, is exhausted sleep and, in between, a brain that can't or won't switch off from bothering about all the stuff I'm trying to get a break from. With the added twist that by the second night, I'm missing Sarah and hoping she's OK.
Which is just a way in to drawing your attention, if need be, to a story running in the UK this week about money promised by the Government for short breaks for carers that's ended up in the bottomless pit that is the NHS. The story started with a report of ongoing research by The Princess Royal Trust for Carers & Crossroads Care "that many Primary Care Trusts (PCTs) are not providing breaks for carers with monies given to them for that purpose by the government".
Amidst much media comment, there is this, for instance, from Dominic Lawson in this morning's Independent Carers deserve better than this diversion of their money.
Actually, I don't much care for the term "carer". More than anything else, I'm Sarah's Dad. That's how I see her. That's how she sees me. I'll do whatever she needs simply because I'm her Dad. I've two other children, both married, and I've four grandchildren - but I'd better not get started on the very special feeling of being a Grandad! The point is I love them all. They are all busy getting on with their lives - even the little ones, which fascinates me to watch and be part of (you see how easy it is to slip into soft-brained Grandad mode, even when trying not to?).
The difference is that Sarah needs loads of help to get on with her life. And there's the rub: I'm her Dad as well as being one half of her real primary care team. The boundary between being a "Dad" and being a "carer" is an indistinguishable mess, frankly. To me, I'm her Dad. To the Government and the PCT, I'm her "carer" (unpaid). Like others I know, I simply do both as best I can, probably neither as well as we'd like, whilst trying to find space for ourselves and our other relationships and friendships.
Hey - this past weekend my wife and I went out for a meal with dear friends. Today I'm off to London for an important meeting. My wife has Ofsted to deal with. I'd rather be me than her! Oh, and Sarah will be home tonight. Life's OK - if you don't weaken, as the saying has it.