I
have spent a lot of my last two days as a care worker just sitting. One of my
clients, who is normally very lively, has been diagnosed with a urine infection
and has slept on and off throughout my visit. Her morning carers filled me in
when I got here, expecting our usual session of crossword puzzles, coffee and
chat, so effectively today I am a sitting service until her son arrives to take
over.
Yesterday,
a different client was upset and did not want to talk, eat, watch TV, listen to
music or generally interact but just needed me to sit and hold her hand.
I’ve
got used to being a doer: coming into a situation and instantly assessing all
the options, sussing out and flicking through what’s going on like Benedict
Cumberbatch’s Sherlock. I try to create some order out of chaos, make it easier
for people to find their way around both physically and mentally. I feed the
budgie, load the dishwasher, listen to the answerphone messages and check the
diary. I navigate the online shopping and appointment making. I deal with
endless admin – liasing with NHS and social services, opticians, electricians,
dieticians, housing, delousing, friends and families.
So
just sitting, being still, is not my typical modus operandi.
But how important
it is for all of us – in fact, isn’t that the definition of intimacy? Being
able to just sit with another person, together but doing nothing, or nothing
much?
I
realise how little of that these days I do with Nick. How nice it is to do that
with someone: just bobble about. Hard though, when you have so much other stuff
to do for a person who can’t do it for themselves – I think I am going to have
to find a window in our diaries amongst the appointments and the admin, and book
in some bobbling about and the intimacy of stillness.
