C. is cheerful and buzzing when I approach her. Ten minutes later, it’s clear she doesn’t want me there; her eyes only spark again when I mention we might finish the conversation soon.
Walking away, I think I could have been more patient, allowed for more silences, more time.
Afterwards, Susanna offers feedback and I’m taken aback by how much we project through small, simple things. For days afterwards I (re)consider the way I held my notebook in those moments, how threatening, inspectorial and unfriendly this practical, unconscious decision may have been.
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Shazea has been working with A, a strong, determined woman. A. has a penchant for coffee (black, 3 sugars). Her room is impeccable; a fluffy toy dog sits in the corner. Every once in a while, she switches from English to her native Italian.
I am able to leave J. and C. in Westmead. I close the book where I write down their words, and while everything that happens between us resonates until it’s time to see them again, I realise it’s mostly the process I think about. “I’m here to write your words” I often tell them; I have to leave the relationship in all its fragility just outside the care home door, manoeuvring the coping strategies along the way.
A. follows me to the tube, from her home to mine, there when I wake up in the morning. We share an unhealthy relationship with coffee; we live in English, but don’t always think in English. My fears of ageing in a foreign country (and without a steady stream of coffee) are leeching on to A. Or maybe I can afford to let her roam around my head because someone else is writing her words down.
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C. is all smiles when I come into her room. She offers her blessings as I’m leaving. In the meantime we spend half an hour in almost complete silence.
“I can’t think of anything. Can’t think of anything to talk about.”
C is patient with me. She says little but rarely breaks eye contact. I feel more than think for the first time in this process. I put my pen down, get comfy in my chair, sync with her breathing. C. and I sit in her space, on her time; we’re not chatty, but we are together.
Bojana Jankovic