Unbeknown to me, life as a carer first started when I was 12/13yrs – somewhere about then anyway. My Nanna had alzheimer’s and through this because of her condition moved from Bradfield St. George (Suffolk) to Fostrasol (Wales) which was a 546 mile round trip. Going with my Dad and family to help him support my Grandad. Later through life, my Dad had Cancer and now I have a Mum who’s eyesight is deteriorating with trips to hospital and a son who is on the Autistic spectrum.
For my son specifically, he’s now 19yrs. We actually didn’t know, become aware or get diagnosis until he was 17yrs. And you kind of this “how bad are we as parents?!” All that time and we didn’t think about his behaviour and ways being so different. But with his mum and I having parted ways when he was 1yr (we get on well though), we put it part down to that and him spending time between us both, plus the teenage years. Thankfully his college tutor noticed. Since then life has been so much different. Importantly he knows why he acts differently, which helps immensely. It can be tough, but it’s still easier.