Equal Treatment for Carers in Society by Wal Warmington

In a peculiar way l’m both grateful and fortunate in my current position as a carer, caring for my partner and my brother. It’s not that l’m a martyr wishing for more things to coordinate, arrange and carry out. But rather l feel humbled, at times, to be able to learn from those I care for: namely a brother with learning disabilities and acute rheumatoid arthritis; and a partner with ABI who is going through a series of 4 operations to replace her hips and knees having been thrown through a house window by a car that mounted a pavement back in 1990.

I feel my humanity is regularly tested within the various systems that l face in my caring role and that a particular approach is necessary if I’m to push for equal treatment for myself, whilst also safeguarding my mental well-being.

This blog piece briefly explores what ‘equal treatment for carers in society’ means for me currently and some of the practices and observations, from a black male perspective, that l have found to be both pertinent and helpful.

Recognition and self worth is at the heart of my challenges as a carer. The praise and encouragement l receive from family and friends helps shore up my emotional support and gives timely reminders of trying not to do too much. It also helps to counteract those times when l feel invisible and incidental when dealing with agencies, appointments and activities that sometimes run seamlessly across days and weeks.

With the near universality of communication barriers around accessing health services, e.g. call wait times, website logins, etc., the feeling of being dehumanised can be like trying to find your way in dense fog.

When feeling like this, seeking equal treatment starts with trying to hold on to my dignity as a human being who facilitates happenings and change for someone else without disappearing in the process. Despite the strategic decision-making and creativity l practice, this position causes me to wonder how possible it is to gain equal treatment when equal access at the starting point increases the challenges at the onset.

Dignity is a curious dynamic and sometimes it can be positively activated by a simple, civil recognition, for example through a health professional calling you by your first name or simply saying ‘thank you’.

I recall a recent time when l felt angry at the manner l was spoken to. Think of the many ways you could ask: “and who are you?” and the various meanings that could flow from this depending on the intonation. This was the question asked of me by a white staff nurse conducting a pre-op hip assessment with my wife (who is also white). As we came into the room, she on her crutches, the Staff Nurse asked me the above question with such disdain that I almost swore. In the milli-seconds that followed I realised I had to revert to a polite assertiveness in giving her a curt reply back that: ‘I was her husband’; followed by a concise summary of my wife’s medical history to this point. Hiding her near surprise at my summary, she hardly acknowledged me as she tried to bring up my wife’s case notes on her computer screen. She then conducted the remaining pre-op meeting in a formal way by being civil towards my wife and rendering me invisible over the next 15 minutes.

In these moments I realise how the challenges for equal treatment are both hidden and contain power dynamics that can only be overcome by being dignified and not allowing such incidents to jeopardise an operation that has been nearly 12 months in the waiting!

I have sympathy (indeed empathy) for those employees working and having to manage impersonal systems but if I’m to secure some kind of equal treatment I attempt to model civility, use first names where possible and resist reacting to those personality types that may exacerbate institutional racism on a personal level.

A further recent example highlighted the role technology appears to play in diminishing opportunities for carers to tell their stories or experiences. Going to the theatre used to be fairly straightforward when booking and asking for a carer’s companion ticket which were widely available. However, a recent attempt to do this led to innumerable unanswered calls and trying to navigate a very confusing website in trying to apply for a Nimbus card. Again, in being polite and assertive with theatre staff, there seemed to be no acknowledgement of the challenges involved in applying for the card online (at least 5 hours administrative work for me). Asking why theatre goers with, for example, head injuries and limited IT skills and confidence, couldn’t bring their paperwork into the theatre to be processed was met with a stoic policy reply directing me back to the Nimbus helpline.

Similar experiences occurred when applying for my brother’s blue badge online where the bureaucracy, limited assistance and lengthy wait times of local authority assessments resulted in me experiencing excessive emotional stress. From this I learnt again that often ‘systems’ only want your data to populate a field before giving you an answer. They don’t need, or want, your personal context or to provide someone who can listen to you and your particular issues.

For me the challenges of ‘equal treatment’ cannot be separated from ‘equal access’ and ‘equal outcomes’ and as our society adopts more technology in directing, and controlling our lives, these challenges can only increase in number, resulting in more unequal treatment being embedded in processes and interactions. Such activity devalues human experience and lessens our voices and personal histories. Furthermore, in terms of social policy decisions around entitlement and resource allocation it is clear that securing equal treatment for carers, and those cared for, will be an ongoing challenge:

https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2025/mar/30/labour-attack-disabled-people-benefits-cuts

So, is equal treatment for carers attainable or just a myth? Some days the mini-victories and relational breakthroughs reflect equal treatment that has been fought for and not necessarily given. However, the struggle is always present and all I can try to do is review, reflect, learn and go again in my attempts to navigate the systems with dignity and respect for myself and those l care for.

I remain motivated by, and mindful of, the timeless words of Bob Marley:

Get up, stand up — stand up for your rights….

Get up, stand up — don’t give up the fight!