I’m not going to lie; I never thought that I would do this job. It never struck me as one which would be valuable in my journey into clinical psychology. I remember one time in A&E, I watched the nurses and support workers rush around, cleaning up vomit, diarrhoea, blood and urine, and thought to myself “I could never ever do that job”. I was so unbelievably wrong in every way.
Starting out, I didn’t feel accepted into the HCSW role as I was young and inexperienced in caring for someone’s physical needs. I was a poor student with limited job opportunities due to geography, and despite my first-class degree and wealth of voluntary experience, and I needed a job – any job. At first I was a member of staff who would float between wards, going to whatever ward was most understaffed or in need of an extra pair of hands. These wards included mainly geriatric care, but also extended to neurological and maternity wards. This meant that I could never get used to one teams way of working, to the layout of the ward or know exactly where certain things were kept. In my experience, this led to a lot of frustration from my colleagues and I always felt that I wasn’t good enough. Eventually I was able to move onto a ward permanently, which allowed me to be a part of an amazing team and have consistency with the patients that I cared for.
So what do you do as a healthcare support worker? What don’t you do? You act as a friend, companion, carer, nurse, advocate, coach, counsellor, dentist, teacher, chef, waitress and clown. You are there to care for someone in every aspect of their life while they are most vulnerable, so if that includes cleaning up someone’s explosive diarrhoea every hour or putting barrier cream on someone’s penis, testicles and anus (sorry to be crude), then that’s what you do. Yes, it is hard, sweaty, dirty work. But you also get to be there the first time they get out of bed after weeks of being bedridden. You get to hear their singing voice for the first time after losing their speech. You get to make them laugh at 5am when you bump your head on their table for the millionth time that night. You get to hold their hand and talk to them about their worries, hopes and ambitions. You have the honour of being a part of someone else’s memories, knowing that you made the difference when everything else in their world was crumbling down around them.
It’s not all sunshine and rainbows, I assure you. There were times when I have been spat at, kicked, pinched, threatened, had chairs thrown at me, been head-butted and verbally abused. There were times where I had to lock myself in the toilet and have a little cry because nothing I tried was working; dementia had taken over and left someone so distressed that all they could do was scream and cry and act aggressively. I have been there when family could not cope with the pressures and challenges of their loved ones needs, when the realisation set in that their mum, dad, brother, or sister was no longer the person they once knew. I have held someone’s hand and watched as they drew their final breath, and sang to others in their last days in this world. I have washed and prepared the dead bodies of people I had been laughing and joking with a few weeks earlier. Most of the time there is no one there to thank you, to tell you that you’ve done a good job, or to fully witness the extent of your hard work. But I would never change this experience and I admire anyone who has the grit, determination and strength to pursue this career pathway.
Some of the people I met in this job were the most inspirational, hardworking, hilarious people that I have ever met. They take everything in their stride and carry on smiling and laughing even when faced with stress, high demands and understaffing. I’m not trying to idealise the job, and no one can be perfect. However, I think that there is something seriously special about this job and the people who do it. Whilst it wasn’t my dream career and it was both physically and emotionally exhausting at times, I think everyone can learn a lesson or two from being a healthcare support worker.
aspiring psychologist 