Picture it.
A class of 9 live-in carers doing their annual update training, learning about new equipment and being tested on our moving and handling skills. We are transferring each other from wheelchair to chair. From bed to commode. From lying to sitting.
And this is where I start getting morbid.
It is disheartening enough that we are performing these moves on elderly, vulnerable adults all day every day. But next up, it will be my mother in the hoist. And then it will be my kids having to find someone to do it all for me.
I could cry.
A reminder that time counts, and that we have a duty to make the most of it.
My first step is to make sure that I ALWAYS have something to look forward to. That will help me get through the day-to-day tediousness.
Then I will book a holiday with my mum. And keep doing that, at least every three months.
And I will always look for the real person behind the façade of helplessness that presents itself to the world. These men and women have lived full lives and are full of stories and experiences. And it is up to me to recognise that in them.
And to help them to feel special.
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