I cared for my dad when he was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in 2009 for 11 short weeks; although I had "cared" for him since my mum's death in 2001, by doing his washing, ironing, cleaning and he came to us for a meal on Sunday. I had help from the local palliative care team (via my GP surgery and the local Sue Ryder hospice, they were in the main, brilliant; with the odd one or two who didn't really care, breezed in and out without doing anything, although they wrote in the diary that they had done a lot!) I made myself ill caring for him, letting my own care go by the wayside. I couldn't do it for a job, it was easy looking after my dad because I loved him, the intimate care didn't faze me, but doing it for a stranger would be different, no matter how much I got paid!
Now, my daughter is my carer and I feel so guilty sitting after the bits that I can do whilst she's still doing for me and she's in pain herself. We muddle on together, without any other outside help... for now.