[Although inspired in part by a true incident, the following story is fictional and does not depict any actual person or event]
There will come a time when I will no longer be able to care for myself. I won’t be able to walk, brush my teeth, feed myself, or maybe not even leave my bed. Who will be there to support me? Will I be suffering, or loved?
Rose was a suffering woman. I first met her when she called me into her room and asked me to help her use the bathroom. She was so large she could no longer move on her own and was completely bed bound. She also had a contagious infection requiring everyone that entered her room to wear yellow gowns covering everything down to below the knees, and a mask over the mouth and nose. I entered her dark room, just my eyes showing, and spoke in a low voice, asking what I could do for her. In an even softer voice, she explained her needs.
In a dark quiet room, all alone, an unrecognizable person comes in masked in yellow. They uncover you, exposing a body you’re ashamed of, and touch you in uncomfortable places. A complete stranger; you can’t see them smile and you don’t even know their name.
I proceeded to help her, being as gentle and kind as possible. I made small conversation, asking her how her night was going and if there was anything else I could do for her. I was about to leave when she reached for my hand. In a quivering voice, she told me I was a beautiful person. She asked why I could do things for her that her own family couldn’t even do, and why she had to be stuck in this miserable place with no one to love her or care about her. I was so shocked by her honesty and I wanted to give her comforting words. But I knew whatever I had to say couldn’t comfort her in the way she needed. I was able to pray with her and ask for comfort through the night, but she needed love, she needed touch, and she needed presence.
She explained to me how all she wants to do is sleep because it helps her to escape from reality. However, she knew that by sleeping she was wasting her life away. But every time she awoke and remembered where she was, all she wanted to do was go back to sleep. There was no answer. Sleep your life away and forget where you are, or suffer by being awake enough to feel your pain.
Her feelings brought tears to my eyes but I could only comfort her for one night. I could stay and talk to her, cheering her up a bit, but then my shift would end and she would be left alone again, stuck in the life she hated. There was nothing I could do, although I would have done anything. I left her room that night feeling sorrow filled, ashamed, worried, and angry.
When will my life come to this stage? Will I feel all these same emotions that Rose felt, or will I have friends and family to support me? If I never do experience the desolate end of life like hers, what will have prevented it? Will I have been more deserving, have lived a better life, loved more people, been better looking or had more money? I have so many unanswered questions. I’m sure everyone dreads and thinks about what it will be like to be old. They make fun of having canes, grey hair, hearing aids, and dentures and make jokes about having to wear depends. But it’s not until you experience and witness the loneliness that can accompany old age, that you truly being to dread it.
I want to know why Rose’s children weren’t there by her side. She told me about her daughters and grandchildren and how they never come to see her. Maybe they don’t realize how lonely she is. Maybe they don’t have time with their busy schedules. Or maybe, subjecting themselves to viewing her miserable life is too hard for them to bear. I think human beings compartmentalize the difficult things in their lives making them disappear so the pain won’t exist. Rose’s family can keep pictures in their house of grandma holding her first grandchild, everyone around the Christmas tree, or getting together for birthdays. They can call her on the phone and update her about Charley’s school grades or Grace’s soccer game she won last week. But they don’t have to witness the loneliness that actually exists or even consider they may contributed to it. Even more, they don’t have to dread the time when they themselves are the miserable ones.
There will come a time when I will no longer be able to care for myself. I won’t be able to walk, brush my teeth, feed myself, or maybe not even leave my bed. Who will be there to support me? Will I be suffering, or loved?
Rose was a suffering woman. I first met her when she called me into her room and asked me to help her use the bathroom. She was so large she could no longer move on her own and was completely bed bound. She also had a contagious infection requiring everyone that entered her room to wear yellow gowns covering everything down to below the knees, and a mask over the mouth and nose. I entered her dark room, just my eyes showing, and spoke in a low voice, asking what I could do for her. In an even softer voice, she explained her needs.
In a dark quiet room, all alone, an unrecognizable person comes in masked in yellow. They uncover you, exposing a body you’re ashamed of, and touch you in uncomfortable places. A complete stranger; you can’t see them smile and you don’t even know their name.
I proceeded to help her, being as gentle and kind as possible. I made small conversation, asking her how her night was going and if there was anything else I could do for her. I was about to leave when she reached for my hand. In a quivering voice, she told me I was a beautiful person. She asked why I could do things for her that her own family couldn’t even do, and why she had to be stuck in this miserable place with no one to love her or care about her. I was so shocked by her honesty and I wanted to give her comforting words. But I knew whatever I had to say couldn’t comfort her in the way she needed. I was able to pray with her and ask for comfort through the night, but she needed love, she needed touch, and she needed presence.
She explained to me how all she wants to do is sleep because it helps her to escape from reality. However, she knew that by sleeping she was wasting her life away. But every time she awoke and remembered where she was, all she wanted to do was go back to sleep. There was no answer. Sleep your life away and forget where you are, or suffer by being awake enough to feel your pain.
Her feelings brought tears to my eyes but I could only comfort her for one night. I could stay and talk to her, cheering her up a bit, but then my shift would end and she would be left alone again, stuck in the life she hated. There was nothing I could do, although I would have done anything. I left her room that night feeling sorrow filled, ashamed, worried, and angry.
When will my life come to this stage? Will I feel all these same emotions that Rose felt, or will I have friends and family to support me? If I never do experience the desolate end of life like hers, what will have prevented it? Will I have been more deserving, have lived a better life, loved more people, been better looking or had more money? I have so many unanswered questions. I’m sure everyone dreads and thinks about what it will be like to be old. They make fun of having canes, grey hair, hearing aids, and dentures and make jokes about having to wear depends. But it’s not until you experience and witness the loneliness that can accompany old age, that you truly being to dread it.
I want to know why Rose’s children weren’t there by her side. She told me about her daughters and grandchildren and how they never come to see her. Maybe they don’t realize how lonely she is. Maybe they don’t have time with their busy schedules. Or maybe, subjecting themselves to viewing her miserable life is too hard for them to bear. I think human beings compartmentalize the difficult things in their lives making them disappear so the pain won’t exist. Rose’s family can keep pictures in their house of grandma holding her first grandchild, everyone around the Christmas tree, or getting together for birthdays. They can call her on the phone and update her about Charley’s school grades or Grace’s soccer game she won last week. But they don’t have to witness the loneliness that actually exists or even consider they may contributed to it. Even more, they don’t have to dread the time when they themselves are the miserable ones.
That does it! I'm going to go visit Grandma! Good word...
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