Carer is an interesting word. We are all carers. We all care about someone or something to some degree. But being a ‘carer’ is different. It’s a commitment to care on a whole new level.  

I was my brother’s primary carer in the last months of his life. One of the toughest things I’ve ever been privileged enough to do. And that sentence sums up the extremes that the role entails. It was huge, exhausting, draining and overwhelming. But when a friend asked, ‘Why are you doing it?’ my only reply was ‘How could I not?’ In his last months, amongst all of the hard slog, we shared many precious moments of such pure honesty and vulnerability that I will always treasure.

Nobody asked me to be a carer. In most cases, taking on the role is assumed; a spouse, partner or parent. One day, I offered to go to the oncologist with Joe and things just snowballed from there. As his condition deteriorated and his needs grew, the demands on me also grew. Joe felt bad about relying so heavily on me, so I was very careful to reassure him that I was coping just fine. He was facing such an awful reality; the treatment wasn’t working, and his condition was only going to get worse. How could I possibly complain that being his carer was getting to be more than I could handle? I needed help but asking for help is hard. It feels like confirmation of that awful feeling that we aren’t enough. We aren’t smart enough to solve a problem, we aren’t strong enough to lift a weight, not brave enough to face something on our own.  

And there’s the paradox. Asking for help is the brave thing to do. Admitting to ourselves that what we have to do is bigger than we can manage, takes courage. In an ideal world, someone at the clinic Joe was attending would have had a meeting with me, on my own. Would have run me through some of the options or services available to me. But no one did. We just fumbled along. The one bit of help I got was by accident. I happened to be listening to a podcast and the presenter happened to recommend a free app to help organise support. I found the app, Gather My Crew, downloaded it and used it to make a network of support around Joe and his kids and me.  

Joe’s crew of family and friends quickly took on driving him to and from the hospital. They came and cooked breakfast when he became too weak, mowed his lawns, hung out washing. Each of these tasks was on its own, quite small but the sum effect was enormous. And it was all simply and effectively organised and scheduled on our phones. The physical help was amazing, but more important was the emotional support we felt. Every time we posted a task and one of his ‘helpers’ accepted it, we felt held. Instead of being a source of embarrassment, asking and receiving help became a source of comfort.  

A few months after Joe’s death, I contacted Gather My Crew to offer to help them get the word out and for the last six months, I’ve been doing that, volunteering with them. We’re only a small team but to date, over 50,000 Australians have downloaded the app and the crews they’ve formed have provided more than 300,000 hours of care and support.  And I’m really proud to be a part of that. I just wish everyone knew about the app. Not everyone would choose to use it; it might not be right for them but at least they can make a choice. Because we need carers and for carers to keep doing what they do, they need support, real, practical, ongoing support.  

GatherMyCrew is a free app available for all carers to help them organise support from family and friends. Find out more at www.gathermycrew.org.au.