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‘I realised how lucky I was when I cared for the elderly’

Jun 19, 2018

Caring for the elderly gave Jacqui a whole idfferent perspective on life. Source: Shutterstock

I worked in nursing homes and care centres for almost 20 years, from when I left England in 1987, until I was 70, in 2009. Even after I left I still did another year teaching art helping with a group of intellectually challenged young adults.

I suppose it was the laughter that kept me coming back and made me realise how lucky I was to be on this earth. In the midst of some desperately sad happening I would be lifted by the sheer grit and humour some of them showed. In spite of pain or memory loss there could still be a glimpse of the person beneath. A bright spark of spirit would rise above the gloom. We would smile, or perhaps shed a tear, because it moved us.

Every person I looked after was different. Some had more of an impact on my life than others.

When, in the early-’90s I worked at a small nursing home in a suburb of Melbourne, I met Doris and she was special. Tight bun of white hair, skin that on her face was lined and frail, but even at 90 her figure was beautiful, and her skin untouched by sun over the years was like smooth alabaster. She was tough to deal with, she threw food at you if you insisted she ate it, but loved cake. She never married, but loved the company of men. I was so fond of her and her amazing life stories. We formed a bond, and when she died I was devastated.

There was Annie who had us foxed for ages wondering how she could get drunk with no access to drink. Then we found her secret cupboard, a cask of wine a week smuggled in for her by a friend. We still let her drink, but rationed it to a glass with a meal.

So many special people so many special stories. There was French lady who never spoke and was so sad. One day something happened that opened a door in her poor confused brain and she talked and talked. The other nurses and I all sat around and there were lots of tears. Those who had nursed her were transfixed. Then the door closed again and she did not speak after that. I was glad I was there for the precious time that one day.

I remember a woman in her 50s who had just realised she was getting severe memory loss. She spent time every day writing stories of her life before they were lost to her and her family forever. She only lived about another year, but at least she passed on those memories to her children.

I loved the time I spent with one of the old farmers. He used to get me to sit beside him as he ate his porridge and would flirt with me like mad just to get some extra sugar on his cereal. I’ll also never forget the smart old businessman who was sadly fading with each breath. He held my hand one day and said, “Jacqui this dying is darned hard work”.

I have beautiful memories, too, of special days at the nursing home, when we did ‘Happy Hour’ on Friday afternoons. We had pretend champagne, and strawberries, cheese and biscuits. It was lots of fun and it made a somewhat ordinary day for those in the home better. It made my days better too.

In the last year or so of my working life, I tended towards doing just activities with the residents. The outings to quiet places where we could eat sandwiches or have a barbecue and the effort it took to get some of them there was gruelling. I had to make sure those in wheelchairs were carefully watched. It was also important to keep an eye on the wanderers. There was one occasion where we were having lunch at a posh hotel and we had to search the kitchen for the missing molars. Three had left their dentures on the plates they whisked away. Sorting out which teeth belonged to which resident… Well, that was certainly very interesting!

I am pleased I did the job I did. I’ll admit it was not a career choice, I seemed to drift into it, but caring for the elderly was the hardest and yet the most rewarding thing I ever did.