The Carer

So, what time do you call this then? 

Michele pulled the key slighty to the left trying to remove it from the old worn lock, the peeling yellow paint was almost gone around the dull hammer glass windows.

Picking up the shopping bags and dragging them inside the door, Michele pushed the door against the harsh November cold wind and rain that had been at her back since leaving the supermarket forthy minutes earlier.

The door banged, Michele jumped and then called out "Sorry" while making a screwed face and laughing to herself. Throwing her wet coat at the end of the stair rail, rubbing her hands trying to warm them Michele entered the room where Jim sat by a fire, a fire lite earlier that day by the morning carer.

What time do you call this? Jimmy repeated his earlier inquiry to Michele, You come in here banging doors, late with my shopping, What time do you call this? 

Jim was 87 years old, some would call him a grumpy old man. He would complain most days that his breckfast was cold, his bed was lumpy, his lunch was late, the hovering was not done right, the hover was too noisy, his tea was too hot, too cold. Bathing Jim was Micheles job, three times a week Michele would listen to Jim cry as she tried to manover him into the shower, "this is not job for a young girl" Jim would seem distress,angry that this was happening to him, to Michele. But cut backs, and more cut backs meant carers had to do more work for less money. Could nt be fussy about female carers doing personal care for male clients, no that day was gone. You did what work you got, when you got it. Put up and shut up, thats what Micheles dad would tell her when she was growing up, mind you he say alot after two bottles of wiskey in him. Sometimes Jim would look confussed and scream out at Michele "Who the hell are you? what are you doing here?"  Jim would cry sometimes, when Michele would ask Jim if he was okay, he would always answer "I miss her" Jims wife Nula had died five years earlier. Married for sixty one years, one son, who now lives in Canada, John. John has a problem with drink, does nt really get in touch with home, Jim has no family left alive now. He was the younest son in a family of 8 children. Jack, Jims brother died three years ago, in America. Jim and Jack had not seen each other for twenty years, "Got too bloody old to travel that far" was Jims answer when Michele asked why they did nt seen each other more. "Last time i saw him, well when we said goodbye, we knew it was really goodbye" 

Michele was thrity six years old, two young children, raising them alone. The care work was flexable, gave her a chance to be there in the morning for the kids, bring them to school, she d do her calls during the school hours and if there was no delays, no red code calls, she was home in time to make dinner for the kids coming in. Red codes, now when they happened, well ya had to wait, wait with the body for the doctor, record the time of death, then get in touch with family and stuff. Ya red codes could delay Micheles day, but they did nt happen every week, no not every week.  Michele worked as a carer for seven years now, seven years, Mmm this jobs changes you, she thought, I was only a young girl coming into this job, a young girl of 29,  sit with enough dead bodies while you wait, wait for the doctor to come, for the details to be uncovered, you learn to not to be afaird anymore, get to feel comfortable around them. The bodies i mean.  Well ,you can see the pain is gone,  the pain of life, of lonliness, sickness, heartache. Blessing really, ya blessing,  Some of them even asked for it,It was them put the idea in my head, Michele thought. She could nt be blamed, giving God a hand, a kinda Angel. A little control in my life, control over something. My kids are young in the world, young, whole life ahead of them. Heres these old buggers with cash in teapots, under the bed, in the feckin flowerpots, oh ya.. funny the places they hide it really. Waches, necklaces, all sorts. Ya have to cheak the families are nt in touch, ya the lonely ones are usually the redcodes see, well they have nothing left to live for really, nothng at all, just me and Gina coming in everyday. Up dressing them, feeding them, washing them and keeping a house clean that no one uses really. Daft really, na.. doin them a favour i am.

Jim looked up from the fire, Michele still warming her hands together from the cold November weather she had just come in from. Her eyes had a coldness, they had widened and she rubbed her hands again and again, her face went blank, all expression left, her eyes darted towards Jim. 

Now Jim, will this be your day, what do you think Jim, are we going to have an easy day today or am i going to have to make you one of my specail dinners? Michele grinned as she bent over the old frail man, a maddness in her eyes, anger in her voice. Jim looked to the fire, hands shaking, he began to cry. 

Right, Michele said in a loud and confident voice as she left the room, lets get that shopping put away now shall we, and then ill get down to the cooking. I ve got a bit of extra time today Jim, bit of extra time. Kids gone on a school trip you see, so a bit of extra time on my hands today. 

Michele picked up Jims Jacket from the back of the chair took out his wallet, as if it was rightfully hers to take, pulled out two 20s and stuffed it back into the pocket. Gina got your pension i see Jim. Gina was the carer who attended to Jim in the mornings. Well we ll just tell her you paid me for shopping plus a little tip Jim, shall we. Michele laughed, a loud haunting laugh as she walked into the hallway. 

Jim shouted after her " Who the hell are you, why are you in my home"? 

To be continued.