I just found this post that I must have saved instead of publishing about one of my very first clients at work. I still feel it and wish I had posted it before.
From January: It's hard. Harder than I thought. Looking over at him, laying there in bed, unable to move himself, ignites something inside me. I know he is not at ease. I can tell he is in pain and his time is near. I know he is studying my face, my reactions. My unease exacerbates his unease, therefore I will smile. I will be chipper. I will joke with him. I will talk to him as if this is nothing but a mere social visit. It's what he enjoys. I see the smile crinkling his eyes.
This client passed away a few days later.
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