Very very naughty

I have debated whether I dare share this story - I guess it shows us in a light that may not be entirely flattering but I would say in my defense that a black sense of humour is a vital requirement in surviving this job.
All people are equal but some are more equal than others, to paraphrase George Orwell. Ada's son was a Director of Social Services somewhere in England. This may or may not have had a bearing on the fact she got round the clock care granted by social services, I will leave you to decide. At any rate, Ada was in her late seventies and certainly needed a high level of care. She was a painfully thin lady and she had a terminal diagnosis due to a blood disorder. This meant she had to have regular painful blood and platelet transfusions and she was at constant risk of hemorrhaging. The slightest knock caused huge bruising and Ada needed somebody with her all of the time because she was also fairly confused. It seemed her husband had endured a particularly horrible death in hospital and her son had promised her she would die at home and so we were drafted in to do round the clock shifts. The care was necessary but often there were stretches of time when we didn't have a lot to do except keep Ada company, there are only so many times you can clean the fridge or wash the windows but we did our best to keep ourselves occupied and Ada as comfortable and safe as possible.
It was late one afternoon and I was in the office when my mobile phone rang. At first I thought there was nobody on the other end of the line but then I heard a voice whispering "Caroline" in a desperate tone. After a moment or two I realised it was Carol, the carer who was with Ada that afternoon. "Carol?" I said "Whatever is the matter? Speak up!" "I can't" came back the anguished whisper "Her son is downstairs and he might hear me!" She was in a state of flat panic and she poured out her story. She had taken Ada upstairs to the lavatory and was waiting with her as it was not safe to leave Ada even for a moment. Carol is one of those people who does not know the meaning of inactivity and she had become bored because Ada famously took for ever on the loo. She had been a hairdresser in the past and she hit on the bright idea of giving Ada's hair a trim while they were waiting for nature to take it's course. All had been going well and they had been chatting while she snipped away until disaster struck, prompting her frantic phone call to me. "She's dead!" she wailed, in tears now "She just slumped over and died and half of her hair is long and the other half is short - her son is downstairs - what shall I dooooo?" "Are you sure she's dead?" I asked "oh yes, absolutely" she gasped.
I answered reflexively, pictures of having to explain ourselves to God knows who flashing through my mind - "Cut the other half - quick!" I whispered back "And don't shout him until you have!"
We never owned up and at the time I felt sick at the whole situation but I have to admit, in retrospect, it makes me grin to myself whenever I think of it......