I don't really think there's a good subject line for this
Found out today that one of the old ladies at the home passed away on Tuesday. It was very sudden, apparently, she was relatively healthy til the very end; she passed out in the bathroom, but that's happened before with her bouncing back, so after she came to again, they'd put her to bed. When the nurse came by a few minutes later, they'd asked him to check in on her, and by then, she'd been dead.
I guess it strikes close to home because a) even though she was among the oldest of the group, she was also relatively healthy, she could still walk and she was the only one who didn't have any kind of dementia, and b) she was one of my favorites.
She'd be so happy just from getting a hug, and she had such a sense of humor. She told me that she liked that she could joke around with me, and I told her the feeling was mutual. I'd tell her that she was sweet, because she was, even though she could be demanding. She'd light up like I'd given her the most unlikely compliment.
She was very strong-willed and always took a lot of space, mainly I think because we--the staff--were her main social interaction as she spent all day in her room (by her own wishes; sometimes we could convince her to come out for lunch or dinner and sit by the table with the others). I got the feeling that she was often slow in what she did in order for us to stick around longer; slow in things she was pretty fast with if she was on her own.
It's going to be strange to go back to work next week and not have her there. I know it's part of the job, and the entire purpose of the home is that people can live out the last of their life there, but I think that you're never really prepared, especially when someone who's as alert as her. There are several other people there that I would have been less surprised, had they passed away.
I'm just glad that at my last day of work, I took the time to say a proper goodbye, because I didn't know when I'd be back and if she'd still be alive.
I'll miss her.
I guess it strikes close to home because a) even though she was among the oldest of the group, she was also relatively healthy, she could still walk and she was the only one who didn't have any kind of dementia, and b) she was one of my favorites.
She'd be so happy just from getting a hug, and she had such a sense of humor. She told me that she liked that she could joke around with me, and I told her the feeling was mutual. I'd tell her that she was sweet, because she was, even though she could be demanding. She'd light up like I'd given her the most unlikely compliment.
She was very strong-willed and always took a lot of space, mainly I think because we--the staff--were her main social interaction as she spent all day in her room (by her own wishes; sometimes we could convince her to come out for lunch or dinner and sit by the table with the others). I got the feeling that she was often slow in what she did in order for us to stick around longer; slow in things she was pretty fast with if she was on her own.
It's going to be strange to go back to work next week and not have her there. I know it's part of the job, and the entire purpose of the home is that people can live out the last of their life there, but I think that you're never really prepared, especially when someone who's as alert as her. There are several other people there that I would have been less surprised, had they passed away.
I'm just glad that at my last day of work, I took the time to say a proper goodbye, because I didn't know when I'd be back and if she'd still be alive.
I'll miss her.