"I haven't given you one of these yet, have I." a voice said behind me. It was more of a statement than a question. I turned to see a gray haired grandma handing me a piece of hand made room decor. She explained how she made it from a milk carton and punched holes in the side, where she crocheted a border from florescent orange yarn. "You just stick something in the middle and your done."
I thanked her, still slightly befuddled from being surprised by this gift, and she returned to her table to continue with her craft making.
That day was one of those days that just doesn't go as planned. My mother warned me about those kinds of days. "Don't get to attached to how you plan your day," she said, "things have a way of changing on you."
Isn't that the truth. A few weeks of routine will really lower your guard when things start to get exciting in this job. The day started with me getting an hour behind on my visits because one of my clients was getting her hair done when I arrived and it would have taken longer to leave and come back, rather than wait. The day ended with me leaving work 15 minutes early because my last client died before I got there.
I don't think I would have been prepared for that, had I been running on time. I haven't yet been present for a death, and sincerely hope that fate will steer me clear each time. That the family will decided I wasn't needed because the time was soon, or that they just don't make it until their next appointment. I want to be there for them for as long as they can benefit from massage. I want to comfort them; I want to comfort their family. I don't want to be holding their hand when they die.
I tell myself that I want the family to be the ones that are there for them in the last moments, and that is true. I don't admit to myself that I don't want to face that initial emotion. I don't want to see life leave someones face. I'm afraid I wouldn't know what to do.
*****
While driving between visits, there was a near accident between myself and a oncoming car. It was a small town with an uncontrolled intersection and they seemed to know where they were going. Only my unfamiliarity with the intersections in town slowed me down to look for the stop sign. I almost didn't stop, because I didn't have one, but I noticed just in time, they didn't either. At the speed they were going, I would have been seriously injured. My first concern when I imagined the accident was whether or not I would be able to use my phone to call the office and let them know what happened, and adjust my schedule accordingly. Then,"how would I work with broken bones", not once did I think about 'what if I had died?'. I try not to think about that when I'm driving.
Working with dying people is not the quite the same as facing death. I thought it would be when I started this job, but there is still that fine line. They are still alive when I see them. I'm not a nurse or medical professional, so my services are considered 'non-critical', which means if death is imminent, my services are cancelled most of the time. I've learned a lot about the act of dying, but I still have not faced my fear of death head on. I've only skirted around it, acting brave and seemingly unafraid.
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