Taken from: The King's Son...
The first man I ever felt I had done something worthwhile for was C. For four months I had performed this ritual of going out and looking for him and every time had helped him back to Simonlight and fed him Complan with a teaspoon; every morning after soup he shuffled out in search of more dink, and I knew I would be looking for him again that night. When he left next morning, he never smiled or said thank you, and often I would feel despondent, and that I was wasting my time. Then one day I picked C up and he was very ill; the meths was burning him up fast. I got him back to our shelter and for two days I sat with him as he died. I held his hand hoping that at one minute or another he would become conscious enough to realize that he was not along and that someone cared. I fed him regularly and bathed down his sweating body and I prayed. When he rallied two days later, I was still there and he knew it. His eyes were weak as a result of the meths so he could not see me, but his grip on my hand tightened. For the first time since I had known him he smiled and said, ' Girl, yer the first person who's loved me.' I wept many a tear when a few days later he died.
From 'Bury Me in My Boots' by Sally Trench.