Rest In Peace

I've never had anyone particularly close to me die; a few years ago, an old friend passed away, but it had been years since we'd been in contact, so any upset I felt was minimal.

Yesterday, I worked an early shift at my supported living job, and finished at 3.15pm. By 5pm, the man I've cared for for over two years had passed away.

To say it was unexpected would be an understatement; though he suffered from severe epilepsy, he was as strong as an ox, and we all often joked that he'd outlive everyone on the support team. I can take some comfort in knowing that his death was likely instantaneous, that he didn't suffer. But he was achieving so much that losing him now feels completely unfair.

You see, when we first started working with him, he was a completely different man. He was on so many drugs to control his epilepsy and behaviours that he couldn't verbally communicate, he could barely walk, and spent most of his time shuffling around, dribbling -- when he wasn't sleeping, of course. Which he did a lot, thanks to all the medications he was plied with.

In the two years that passed, we watched him transform. He fought to get his drugs reduced, which gave him a whole new lease of life -- the freedom to communicate, to access the community, to advocate for himself. We strengthened the team, piece by piece, to ensure everyone was providing him with individualised support, that the life he was living was his -- which, frankly, before we worked with him, it wasn't. We all grew together, and it's uplifting to know that the last year of his life might have been among the happiest he'd ever experienced.

Working with him was my first real care/support job, and any skills I've developed are thanks to him. Whilst we watched him transform, I did too -- from a shy, scared girl into what I'd like to consider a strong-minded woman who can fight for herself and for others. I was in charge of his care plans, his meds, I contributed to his MDTs, I fought his corner when no one else would. I'm proud of everything we achieved together, and I'm honoured to have worked with such a lovely man.

I always thought the saddest day of my career would be the day I finally left working with him when I qualified as a nurse -- I'd gone over it in my head so many times, even though it's still three years away. He knew I was training as a nurse, and was upset that I'd be working with him less when I was on placement and the like, but in his own way, I think he was proud of me. When I took two weeks off to get started at university, he told everyone who came into the house that I was off because I was going to be a nurse, and that he thought I'd make a good one.

Fingers crossed he was right.