The other day, one of the carers looked at everything I was doing and said:
“All that… for £1 extra?”
And honestly, I understood her.
Because on paper, she was not wrong.
That day had been a lot.
Cellulitis concerns.
Moisture lesions under the breast.
Sore skin on the crack of the buttocks.
Body maps.
Care plans.
Daily notes.
Communication book updates.
Escalations.
Follow-ups.
And this was not even an isolated shift. The day before had been similar.
So when she said it, I did not take offence.
Because I know care work can make you feel like that.
I know what it feels like to be a carer and quietly think, “Absolutely not. Not for that money.”
I know what it feels like to notice things and wonder why nothing is being done.
As carers, we see a lot.
We see when something has been reported but not followed up.
We see when documentation is weak.
We see when residents are not being advocated for properly.
We see when people are just ticking boxes.
And from that position, it is easy to say:
“They should have called the GP.”
“They should have updated the care plan.”
“They should have documented that.”
“They should have escalated sooner.”
And sometimes, we are right.
But at some point, I had to ask myself a harder question:
If I can see the gaps so clearly, why am I still hiding behind the curtain?
That is one of the reasons I took the senior role.
Not because of the extra £1.
I took it because I was qualified.
Because I wanted the challenge.
Because I was tired of seeing what needed doing and waiting for someone else to do it.
And because I care.
Not in a soft, fluffy way.
I care enough to follow things through.
To look at sore skin and not dismiss it as “just redness.”
To know when something needs a body map.
To update a care plan because tomorrow’s staff need to know what was seen today.
To document properly, not because I love paperwork, but because residents deserve continuity of care.
That is the part people do not always see.
Senior care is not just walking around with keys and telling people what to do.
It is noticing.
It is thinking ahead.
It is protecting residents.
It is protecting staff.
It is being able to say, “This has changed, and we need to act.”
And yes, sometimes it is exhausting.
Sometimes you are pulled in five different directions, trying to support carers, reassure residents, speak to nurses, update records, chase medication, call family, and still keep the shift moving.
Then someone looks at all that and says:
“For £1 extra?”
But here is the truth.
If I was only doing it for the £1 extra, I would have already dropped the keys and gone back to hiding.
Because £1 does not pay for the mental load.
£1 does not pay for the responsibility of knowing that if you miss something, it could affect someone’s health.
£1 does not pay for being the person people come to when something is wrong.
But purpose will make you stand differently.
Purpose will make you follow up when something does not sit right.
Purpose will make you advocate for a resident who cannot explain what is happening in their own body.
Purpose will make you take responsibility, not because the pay matches the weight of the role, but because the person in front of you matters.
I once wrote that you weren’t sent there just for a paycheque.
And I believe that even more now.
Because sometimes the assignment is not glamorous.
Sometimes it looks like checking skin folds.
Sometimes it looks like noticing sore skin.
Sometimes it looks like calling Telemeds.
Sometimes it looks like updating Fusion when you are already tired.
But that is still the work.
That is still advocacy.
That is still care.
I want management to know they can trust me.
Not because I am perfect.
Not because I know everything.
Not because I never get tired.
But because I take the role seriously.
If something happens on my shift, I do not want to bury it under busyness.
I do not want to ignore it because it means more paperwork.
I do not want to leave it for “someone else” if I know it needs action.
I want residents to be properly seen.
Not just washed and dressed.
Not just fed and placed in a chair.
Not just checked off a list.
Properly monitored.
Properly documented.
Properly advocated for.
So no, I did not take the role for the extra £1.
The £1 came with the role.
But it was never the reason.
I took the role because I had spent enough time seeing what needed to be done.
And at some point, you have to stop standing on the side pointing at the gaps.
At some point, you have to become the person who helps fill them.
Not loudly.
Not perfectly.
Not for applause.
But because someone vulnerable is depending on care that does not look away.
Some work is bigger than the rate. This resonates with what I wrote here https://anastacian.com/you-werent-sent-there-just-for-a-paycheque/
Some work is about trust.
And some assignments are not measured by what you earn from them.
They are measured by who was safer because you were there.
