Work.
Recap: I'm a support worker in a hostel for older alcohol dependent men.
This morning I wanted to help one of the boys get ready for a doctor's appointment, so I took a cup of tea up to him. He'd been ill for a couple of days and his GP was no help on Tuesday (home visit, have some paracetamol and something to settle the stomach) and we hoped his specialist clinic would admit him to hospital today. He didn't answer when I knocked on his door, so I used our key to enter. There's little more heartbreaking than the sight of a dead frail old man.
I knew he was well past reviving even from the door, but I checked to be sure he wasn't breathing and legged it back to the office to call emergency services. Ambos there in less than three minutes, confirmed all as they walked through James' door. Police in, statements given, coroner in, undertakers in and gone.
I'm struggling a bit to get the image of his face - eyes sunken and open, grey skin, blood dribbled down his chin and shirt - out of my head. I am tempted to double up on the codeine my doc prescribed so I can sleep while this dumb cough abates.
He had been diagnosed with TB about 9 months ago, and a few people (the ambos, my manager's manager, his clinic) have told us that he likely had a lung bleed overnight as a result of that. The coroner will report in a few days apparently.
I'm glad I spent a lot of time with him yesterday, took him something to eat, held his hand for a while.
A cliche, but having this last month or so been on the periphery of two deaths, it rather brings home how fleeting and kind of pointless life is.
My boss is great. I was right to follow her to this job. She managed the legal and internal procedures we had to go through today defly, made sure the staff and other residents felt cared about, gently broke the news to his son who happened to call an hour later just to see how his father was (reunited late last year after James left them 35 years ago) and whom the police hadn't got over to yet. She did it all exactly as needed, at times with tears running down her face, without pretending it was no big deal. Beats the attempt at gallows humour barely three hours later from the deputy manager.
You've no idea how happy I am to have a long weekend of cat butling ahead of me.