I was nervous, I admit it. Old people can be unpredictable. This was my first solo outing as a social worker, standing it for the regular person. I had been warned that this client was particularly difficult.
She answered fairly quickly for a woman in her eighties. She greeted me with a toothless smile, ushering me through to her tiny kitchen. She insisted on making me tea while I went through my list of questions. Was she taking her medications regularly, using her inhaler as directed? Oh yes, yes, yes, she said to everything. I don’t know if she could hear me or was bothered to listen. She filled two mugs from a chipped teapot and then she picked up a box of cigarettes. ‘Do you mind?’ she asked. ‘I know people these days don’t tend to approve.’
I was so relieved and reached into my purse for my own. ‘Here, have one of mine dear,’ she insisted. After that things became easy and she chatted away about her life and days gone by. ‘I am so glad that you smoke too dear,’ she told me and she shook her head sadly. ‘Smokers, we’re a dying breed.’
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