Olde adages

The little lady with the shuffle took her shoes off and rubbed her feet.

"I do not know why they get so sore these days, dear. I suppose it is my age."

She is 91. Her skin is in marvellous condition and so is her mind. She has lost much of her vision to macular degeneration and her shoulder broke last year when she fell on the ice.
There is a pin in her somewhere.

We had done all my 'set' tasks and I was headed for an unscheduled break. Another late cancel! Bah... to sit in my car?

"Would you like me to get your foot tub?"
"Oh no,dear, that would be too much trouble."

The hell it is. I got the electric foot fixer her daughter had given her for Christmas out from the main bathroom where it was covered in two inches of dust. After washing it off, I filled it with warm water and 2 tbsps of baby oil and brought it in to her with some towels. She eased her feet in and I dialed the setting for massage/bubble.

I brought her a cup of tea and we chatted away for 25 mins.
There was a pumice stone in the bathromo and a file.
As I was drying her left foot, I had to focus my mind not to say expletives out loud.
Her poor foot had callouses 2 inches thick. Her toenails were dry and split and in some places the skin had grown over the nail. No wonder she couldn't walk without pain.

I knew she had no idea that her feet were so unkempt and I also knew that she would be very distressed to think I had seen her in a way she would find unflattering.
I kept encouraging her to tell me about life in England of the 20s and 30s and she forgot about my ministrations to her and told all kinds of tales.

After creaming her beautifully groomed feet and putting her slippers on I disposed of the evidence. She sat smiling and then got up to get a picture to show me.
No more shuffle.

"You know, that little machine is a marvel. I must remember to thank my daughter. I had no idea it could make such a difference."

That was the best break I have had in months.
Bless her heart and toesies.

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There is a garden in her face... Where roses and white lilies bloom... A heavenly paradise is that place... Thomas Campion c. 1619