Just went out to give him something

Sunday, bloody Sunday.
Don't I say that almost every Sunday? Sadly it is almost always true. It certainly was today.

I start every Sunday with the client who is the most demanding of them all.
Clients come and go, live and die, come on service, drop off service and still she is around.
Not that we do not appreciate the business or anything but it is too bad she does not understand the concept of repricosity. She believes it is only about her and everyone else must defer or deter. Blah.

I was thinking to myself, after I left her home, how nice the rest of the day would be.
Clients 2 and 3 are full care, but on the way to independance again, client 4 is a joy to be around.
Client 5 is in Hospital now so client 6-7-8 would be me! Going home!!

*buzz* ---wrong answer---
Clients 2 and 3 went like a dream.
Client 4 the joy and delight did not appear to be home. I had a bad feeling. After waiting the requisite 4 minutes it would take for someone to come, slowly, to the door, I went in search of the hidden key and went in.

The usual place my dear client goes is the shower. Not in the shower.
Once the garage door was a source of confusion, and I had to liberate my client from the garage.
Today, it was not the garage. I checked the bathrooms, the bedrooms, the garage, and laundry rooms, and looked around for shoes, and coats to indicate a walk. No no no and nope.

I opened the living room curtains, and looked outside.
Nothing in the back yard. My spidie-senses were tingling.
On the concrete patio laying flat, face-up, blue-lipped, was the client.
Rushing out to check for a pulse I saw an eyelid flutter.

"I have to call for the paramedic, just wait a moment."
The client was so cold, eyes glazed over, foam from both corners of the mouth. I held a pale cold hand and spoke quietly waiting for the ambulance.
My client was muttering something almost inaudible.
"I just was getting something for the dog. He looked so hungry. I just came out to give him something to eat."


God bless the people who train us. God bless the man who long ago drilled into my cottonball head, put a blanket over any crisis victim and call 9-1-1 and while you wait keep the person calm.

The clothes had to be cut off. The shoulder was out of its socket. The right temple had a horrid contusion. The upper back was moving at cross purposes to the lower back.
And all through these manueverings the client quietly waited. No fussing.

I have a new hero.
The Paramedics in my District.
And my dear client who was most likely outside all night laying, waiting, knowing help would come. Eventually. After they left, I cleaned up as much blood as I could. It was distressing enough without the family arriving to see *that*.

I had noticed when I arrived, and again when I left that on either side of my client both neighbours had company for Mothers day. On one side they were sitting on the patio drinking coffee, and sharing chit-chat. On the other side, they were gardening. For some reason noone thought to look over the shubbery where a 80 year old hero lay.

damn it all.

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Ambrose Bierce: Patience:
A minor form of despair, disguised as a virtue.