And it can be a good thing. I have worked with three lovely little old ladies for the last two years, in their own homes. Two I work with on their beds, clambering all over to reach the bits that I need to get too. The third I see in her easy chair. I have enjoyed every minute of the time I have spent with them as even though their bodies are frail, their minds are sharp and there are always stories (sometimes you hear the same one, but that's ok, there's always an added extra embellishment). One is 91 and the other two are 87, spring chickens in comparison! I have, on some level, dreaded the day that I lose one of them.
Yesterday I had the call. N, one of the 87 year olds passed away this weekend. It may sound strange, but I am happy for her. She was a tiny woman with major spine deformities, constant pain from them and most frustrating for her - itching all over her body that just wouldn't ever stop. She had a number of falls and hospitalisations in the last year and was timid and fearful. Usually somewhere during our session she would sigh, shrug her shoulders and say "well, I guess all I can hope is that it will get better". She was trying to hold on to some hope even though on some level I'm sure she knew she wouldn't improve. Luckily for her, she still had her husband by her side and he is still strong as a rock. At 87 he'd hop on his computer and pay for the treatment online! Bless. What a champion.
The end was mercifully quick and painless. She got up from lunch to get a drink, said "I think I'm going to fall", collapsed with a stroke and passed away on the way to hospital. No more suffering. She is at last pain free. Rest in peace N. x