Beryl GlanvilleThe morning of Friday 13th May 1994 dawned squally, with drifts of sullen, grey rain and a restless wind.

Early that morning my husband was involved in a motor vehicle accident at Taupo swamp just north of Wellington. A young girl travelling south from Paraparaumu had lost control of her car, crossing the median and hitting my husband's car head-on.

The next morning we were told that head injuries had triggered a severe stroke, leaving Lindsay with some paralysis, memory loss, and (probably) permanent loss of sight.

Lindsay remained in Intensive Care at Wellington Hospital for 10 days, spent three months in hospital, and then four months in rehabilitation at Hutt Hospital.

During that period I was forced to sell Lindsay's aviation instrument repair business, which operated from Paraparaumu airport.

With a family of three young adults in tertiary education and a hefty mortgage, life as we knew it looked very bleak.

Lindsay came home for Christmas that year, and though we all made an extreme effort to regain normality, exhaustion and reality hit home. That Christmas as I recall it was lonely and sad. We felt different, and isolated.

Support agencies were slow to kick in, and it became apparent that I would need to return to work as a primary school teacher. Teacher aiding seemed a good option. To see whether I could cope, I advertised in our church newsletter, and was fortunate that two retired ladies responded.

So while I worked mornings with a special needs child to earn an income, those wonderful ladies voluntarily spent time with Lindsay.

I also paid a gentleman for five hours every Thursday and felt he was invaluable, because he was a man. Every other care worker had been female, and it was so important for Lindsay to have the friendship and input of another male.

Early mornings became part of the daily routine, as Lindsay needed to be showered, shaved and breakfasted before I left for work.

Progressing to a teaching position in 1996 was exciting and encouraging. I was to job share and work in the mornings.

Unfortunately the position involved my teaching mornings, while two other teachers covered the afternoons.

I was responsible for all core subjects, and sadly failed to meet the unrealistic demands, even though I rarely left school before 3pm.

It was unfair to expect a teacher who worked until 12.30pm daily to do the work of a full-time teacher, taking on the responsibilities of meetings, testing, recording, reporting, and parent interviewing.

So part-time work isn't always what it seems. A succession of care workers provided by ACC spent time with Lindsay, but after nine months I was unceremoniously fi red from my job.

It took all the courage I could muster to return to the classroom, but it was unavoidable, as we needed the income. So the following year I began a new position.

On approaching ACC for more care hours for Lindsay, his innovative case manager suggested full-time care at the Laura Fergusson community hostel.

This decision making period was traumatic, requiring much thought, soul searching and encouragement.

But my new position really worked, as my working hours were 10.30am to 3pm (give or take several hours thereafter).

This gave me more control. I could decide whether to be at school early, or else by 10am.

Lindsay came home every weekend. I collected him from the hostel at 3.30pm every Friday.

Since then I have continued teaching, sometimes in long-term relieving positions, more recently as a day relief teacher, so I have a choice about how many days per week I wish to work.

I've made every effort to watch my energy levels and to balance demands.

I've learned that over-tiredness is my enemy and can rapidly lead to exhaustion and depression.

I haven't always been successful in controlling my situation. At times the services of a supportive doctor and a sympathetic counsellor have been invaluable.

Remember, this is not a fictional success story, rather one of a family's genuine desire to survive and move on to a more manageable ‘place'.

In 2005 we sold the family home, and Lindsay and I moved to a smaller property in a familiar area. Goodbye mortgage, hello to an easily maintained, sunny house and garden. What a relief! And the Laura Fergusson hostel is just seven minutes away by car.

I believe these things are vital for those of us trying to combine paid work and caring

  • Avoid fatigue.
  • Know your capabilities, and control the demands of work to maintain balance.
  • Take time for yourself ... exercise is great for the body and the mind.
  • Accept, encourage, and enjoy support from family, relatives, friends, and community volunteers.

I'd like to take this opportunity to acknowledge all caregivers and their strength of human spirit, and to encourage you to write your own story for Work Life Care! I'm aware that my story is just one of many.