One week after the move, multiple hours spent cleaning, the unit in Mornington is in a near immaculate state, keys are ready to be handed back. The last hours spent in Morningtong today- house strewn with a plethora of cleaning products, buckets and mops. Windows and showers were cleaning, floor mopped, the remaining things stuffed in the car. We looked at the pilling brown yellow-green 70s carpet, which sheds ten times as much as a cat, in the last rays of natural light. The house is now empty. So many happy memories here. With D., and alone- having the place and solitude all to myself. This place has been a my little haven.
It is winter. Quiet week at work, not good, but at the same time, a blessing- I can relax and slow down a bit. I like work, but that nagging feeling is there- there's gotta be more to life than this, and I want to find something that hopefully I can make a living with, something that makes my heart skip in excitement, something to live for. Does it exist?
Nursing home trip. I look at my patient and wonder if there are any traces of a human mind inside her. The nursing home- labyrinthine corridors, the smell of disinfectant and old people, little rooms with doors wide open, each with an elderly person in an armchair or in bed, staring at a TV screen and at the people who walk past. I will never forget my patient. Her face. Her body. Her unintelligible cries. And most importantly, the heart breaking realisation that I am lucky to be where I am now, with an able body. That things end, and this body, this vessel, this vehicle, will one day disintegrate. We are all heading towards an inevitable ending. But we have the present, right now. It is the greatest gift.