Care home investigation: 'They would sit, often alone. They were simply dolls on a conveyor belt'

MY grandmother is 92 and still very active, so I'd never had to provide round-the-clock care for an elderly person before.

Not knowing what to expect, I imagined the kind of care I would want for her if she needed it; being treated as an individual, not being made to feel a burden and living a life as close as possible to the one she has now.

With that in mind, I started work at Ashley Court determined to make the effort to talk to the residents individually. I wanted to get to know their life stories, their likes and dislikes.

As I introduced myself to residents, I found that although many suffered dementia, some became more coherent the more they were spoken to.

Those I talked to seemed surprised to be having a conversation at all and thanked me for giving them the time.

On my first day I chatted to one lady who had worked in the foreign office and met Stalin and Churchill, and a Polish man who had been shot while escaping Nazi Germany.

I was humbled by their stories and saddened by the monotony of their daily cycle of washing, dressing, feeding and bed.

I noticed that in between meals and cups of tea, they would sit, often alone, and always in silence. They were simply dolls on a conveyor belt.

By the start of the third day, I was feeling the pressure of the routine: getting the residents up, washed and dressed, making sure they had their food and toilet breaks, then bed. The need to get all the residents through each stage by a certain time was exhausting. The fact few could stand or walk unaided and many had dementia made it harder.

By the end of the day I felt the strain. My legs ached and I was finding less and less time to talk to the residents. By now, all I wanted to do was get each resident through the cycle and get to the end of the day.

By my final two days I was expected to know the job as well as the other carers. I was learning about each resident and their needs, but also from other carers the "tricks of the trade".

I was advised to ignore some residents when they complained that they needed to be changed – and, despite myself, I could see why. I couldn't help thinking this was the only way to get through an endless routine of 13-hour shifts.

Five days was enough for me. I was relieved that I didn't have to do more. The people who do it, day in and day out, have my respect and admiration. But I am equally troubled that this is apparently the best care we can offer our loved ones in later life.