I’m finding it hard
to face the regular passing away of residents I have got to know and have grown
fond of. After a little break where I
managed to have a holiday with friends in Wales I returned to work a shift in
the care home and was informed that David had sadly died the previous night,
and I couldn’t help but well up. He was
a great guy and a wonderful character; a proper London cockney from Crouch End
who loved telling me of his life growing up in the East End and his job as an
engineer working on Tube Trains. He also
played the piano really well and sang too and his presence kind of lit up the
home; everyone liked him... I miss him and I know that all too soon some other
resident will pass away too. It’s very
strange working so closely with people who are so near the end of their lives,
but it’s also somewhat life-affirming to make a connection with individuals who
rely on your care and commitment to their welfare. Bridget, a lady who until recently was very
active and always first up to read the papers in our library has succumbed to
the pernicious grip of oncoming dementia and has taken to her bed, scared and
somewhat confused, asking me continually where she is and asserting that she
doesn’t think she should be here and would like me to drive her home as her
mother will be missing her. I took her
breakfast in on a tray this morning and she was crying; I asked her what was
wrong and she said “I feel sad”. I sat with
her and held her hands for a short while and told her everything was going to
be okay and the kind people here were looking after her. I left her looking settled and managing a
little smile, but later that day when I took her a mug of tea she was crying
again.
