I don’t talk about my job, other than to refer to the fact of having to go to work. Some of the reason is due to the privacy, other reasons are it isn’t a very interesting job. Basically I do personal care on seniors in a nursing home. Nothing intellectual, fascinating or even of interest to most. My frequent description is that we “wash, dress, fed, repeat 26 times” .
But it is necessary and very important to the people I care for. And care is a very apt description. Because we do come to care for the patients and even though we know they are frail and near the end of their lives, it is sometimes a shock when the end is so soon.
The best part of my job is the people I meet. They are all so different and so interesting, artists, fighter pilots, all sorts of fascinating lives they’ve led. The worst part isn’t the messy physical stuff or the heavy lifting that leaves me flat out exhausted some days. No, the worst part is losing them. Especially when I go in after a few days off and someone is gone, as I did today.
And this has been a hard year. I sat and counted them out today. 12 gone in 12 months. Good bye Jean, Otto, Joe, Nicola, Mary, Donna, Ilsa, Ilene, Ruth, Kurt, Cy, Margaret, I’m glad I knew you.