James Bowdler
2 September, 2026
2 min read
Guide Contents
Self-employed carers grieve twice. They grieve for the people they have looked after, sometimes for years, and they grieve for their own families. Neither kind comes with compassionate leave, and both land in a working life where a fortnight away can cost a placement, a month’s income, and, occasionally, the way a form judges you afterwards.
The first is the one people half expect. A live-in carer rang our team a couple of days after her client died. She wanted to know two things: when her final payments would land, and whether she was still welcome to stay for the funeral on the Saturday.
“He was really, really a gentleman. I fell in love with him. He’s just an amazing, amazing person.”
In the same call, she said she was willing to travel anywhere in the country for her next placement, as soon as the funeral had passed. That sentence sits oddly next to the one before it, and yet both were completely sincere. She was mourning someone she loved, and she needed work in about ten days.
Another carer opened a call in tears about a client who had died in the night, after the family had kept her updated hour by hour as things worsened. Minutes later in the same conversation, she cheerfully agreed to cover an urgent job for a different family. “Even if it’s one day, I’ll come running,” she said. She was between placements and could not afford to be.
The second grief is the private one. A parent, a sibling, a child. That is where the absence of any safety net stops being a talking point and starts being arithmetic.
A long-serving carer called to say her mother had died the previous morning. She had booked an emergency flight home the same day, at a cost of about £1,400, several times what the same seat would have cost booked months ahead. She and one sister were the only two left of seven siblings.
“I’m so broke. Can you imagine? I paid my flight, it was 1,400.”
She was not ringing for sympathy. She was ringing to ask whether there would be work waiting when she came back in two weeks.
Put the numbers together and you can see why. In 2026, live-in carers booked through the platform typically earn somewhere between £130 and £190 a day. A fortnight away is therefore roughly £1,800 to £2,600 not earned, on top of a flight and a share of funeral costs. There is no statutory bereavement leave for the self-employed, no employer absorbing the gap, and no paid notice.
That is one half of the trade that self-employed care work asks you to make. The rates are usually better than agency employment and you choose your own clients, but the weeks you cannot work are simply weeks you do not get paid. Most carers know this in the abstract. Very few have thought it through before the phone call that changes everything.
The hardest version of this we hear is not cruelty on anyone’s part. It is two clocks running at different speeds.
A live-in carer told us her father had died and been buried the week before, and that her mother was seriously ill in hospital at the same time. She had told the client’s family she needed time. Each time she spoke to them, her return date moved again: Monday, then Thursday, then the following week. She was not being evasive. She genuinely did not know, because she was in the middle of it.
“I have all these things around me. You know, when you are bereaving, your mum is sick.”
From the family’s side of the phone, the picture looked different. Someone in their nineties needed care in their own home every night, and the rota had a hole in it that kept moving. A member of our team put it to her bluntly, because it was kinder than letting her find out later: if a date keeps changing, some families stop believing in it. By the end of that week the placement had gone to another carer.
Nobody in that story behaved badly. The family were frightened about cover. The carer was burying a parent. But the practical lesson is worth saying plainly, because it is the one carers tell us they wish they had heard first: give one date you are confident you can keep, even a pessimistic one, rather than an optimistic date you keep having to move. “I will be back in three weeks, and I will confirm again in ten days” holds a placement far better than four hopeful Mondays in a row.
It cuts the other way too. A live-in carer whose own relative was entering end-of-life care had to leave a placement within days. Her family wanted her to walk out immediately. She refused, and stayed long enough on her final day to hand over properly to a replacement. “This has never happened to me before, never,” she said. She lost nothing professionally, because she left well. There is more on that in our piece on how and when to walk away from a placement.
The sharpest detail in all of this is administrative, and it is the one that stings longest.
A carer with a recognised care qualification and years of hands-on experience registered with us and found her application flagged for insufficient experience. She could not understand it. When she talked it through with our team, the explanation turned out to be an eight month gap in her employment history.
“I lost my son, and I needed time to grieve.”
She had taken those months off, and returned to care work in the spring. A form had read the empty months and drawn a conclusion about her competence. It took a person, not a system, to correct the record.
This is a general problem, not a problem with one platform. Registration checks look at identity, right to work, DBS documents and a rough reading of work history, and an unexplained gap is exactly the kind of thing an automated check treats as a question mark.
PrimeCarers is an introductory platform and does not provide, manage, supervise or clinically assess care. Clients remain responsible for checking carer documentation, interviewing carers, checking suitability for their specific needs, and agreeing the scope of care directly with the carer.
If you have a bereavement gap in your history, do not leave it blank and hope. Write one line into your profile summary or your application notes: “Career break from March to November following a family bereavement.” That single sentence turns a red flag into a human fact. Keep a reference from the job you held before the break, and if a check still goes against you, ask for a human review rather than resubmitting the form.
The stretch between placements is its own strain even without grief on top. We have written separately about what live-in carers face when a job ends, and about when the carer is the one who needs care.
If your carer’s own relative has died, you are one of very few people who can materially change how hard the next month is for them.
And if it is your relative who has died, remember that the carer is bereaved too. Live-in carers in particular have often spent more waking hours with the person than anyone else in the family. Ask whether they would like to come to the funeral. Most say yes, and most are never asked. Our piece on the last weeks at home covers what else tends to matter at that stage.
James Bowdler
Author