Here is another great poem by our anonymous home carer. In this poem, she reflects on her first, nerve-wracking night on duty, visiting people in their own homes to ‘do the tuck-in’ – or as we might prefer it, to assist our loved ones to get ready for bed.
Night One
September.
Wednesday night, half-past 8.
No keysafe number. Ring bell.
Expected to have keys, and am too early.
'I'll wait till you're ready,’ I say, standing still.
‘Worst carer ever,’ they shout, from the hall.
They teach me their night routine, shaking and angry.
I see nothing but fear in their eyes.
September.
Wednesday night, 9pm.
Open the keysafe.
Exactly on time.
We dance their routine.
They chant my name,
smile ever-so-slightly,
say softly, 'good night.'
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