Interesting times…

I’ve had the strangest few days. I had my first shadowing visit yesterday. I won’t lie, I was terrified! I meet with the nurse I’m shadowing with and he leads me in, explaining his process. I walk in and I see a man, with his pants around his ankles, arms folded on the table with his head just resting on them as though he was asleep. He was as it happens, but he looked so pale. For a split second, I thought ‘No fricking way! My very first call and the client is dead!’ Obviously I was somewhat mistaken but still, I believed it for a second. Horrific. Actually caring for him was quite easy and didn’t take very long at all. The next client… Oh my god! I was warned in advance that he was sometimes abusive, aggressive and just generally unpleasant. ‘Ok then, in the deep end again.’ I thought. Long story short, apparently my being there chilled him out. It didn’t take long for me to find out why. Mr fight club is from south Africa. Or rather , as he pointed out aggressively, Rhodesia… Right… My shadow buddy is African. If you’re not aware of the history here, Mr Fight Club was from the apartheid days of black segregation. The bile that came from his mouth… I was actually gobsmacked. My normal response in the face of overt racism would be to pull them up on it. Obviously you can’t in this setting. Seriously though. I can’t even repeat some of it here… My shadow buddy is as cool as a cucumber. Chuckling every time Mr Fight Club threatened to kill him for disrespecting his father. He didn’t even mention his father. Then, when asked if he wanted breakfast, he said in a quite frail voice, “Can I have banana with it please?” Almost with childlike innocence. The next moment, he slipped back into the vile Afrikaans hate speak.

By the end of the visit, he was happy sat with his papers, drinks and even commented on how nice we were with a smile. If there is a God out there, please don’t let me end up like that. That one visit opened my eyes to the other end of this shit show we call life. We all think we can imagine ourselves getting old and frail, maybe even infirm, but unless you have a relative in home care or in a care home, you really can’t. Sure, one would think of the obvious, like incontinence pads, bed washes and so on, but it’s the psychological side of it… Mr Fight Club clearly missed his healthier days. So much so, it seemed to be a trigger for his nasty side. The stereotypical bitter old man. He kept saying he could still kill us if he wanted too… Bless him. Not so much.

There was another client just a few roads away from Mr Fight Club so my shadow buddy suggested popping in to introduce myself to him. Varys was completely different. Lucid, smiling and friendly. Bald, chubby and his house was dirty as hell. Again, bless him. Not as incapacitated as Mr Fight Club, I think I felt more sorry for him than the others. He is with it enough to be fully aware of his situation. Still, he keeps on smiling… A lesson in gratitude right there.