Confessions of a care home worker | The Times Magazine – The Times

It’s an hour until my shift in the care home ends. Sylvia’s in bed, gumming a custard cream. I sit in the reclining chair next to Sylvia, scrolling through my phone, because the mad rush of assisting people to their own beds – the adrenaline spike of bending, hoisting, lifting, removing, wiping, emptying, folding, spreading, plumping, and repeat, repeat, repeat – can be exhausting. Physically arduous and mentally taxing. But with a 14-hour shift almost behind me, it’s the most relaxed I’ve felt all week. And because I’ve cared for Sylvia for many years, we can share a comfortable silence without worrying about filling it.

“Can you answer me this?” says Sylvia, after a few minutes of contemplation.

“Yeah. What’s wrong?” I reply.

“And you