A Month of Reflection: Day Four
The best part about having a soul family is the superpower that comes along with it: infinite love.
I don’t know the breakdown of percentage of 30 year olds who still have living grandparents, but I would think at least half of all of them have one living. That seems fair in my completely inept statistical mind, math is my hell.
I lost all of my grandparents by the time I was 25. My mom’s parents both passed while I was in high school, my Dad’s in 2018 (Papa) and 2020 (Nana). They all died rather slow deaths. Both my maternal grandparents had cancer and dementia. Grandpa was in a nursing home for a brief period before he fell out of bed and hit his head. He passed a couple days later. Grandma died in a hospice home in Syracuse called Francis House. It’s actually a really beautiful place to die. I only got to visit her once, maybe I’ll tell that story some day. Papa lost a years long battle with a bad intestinal infection. He was able to pass at home, surrounded by his family. The “perfect” death. Nana…my heart breaks for Nana. For years she slowly lost her mind. Then before COVID she fell and had to enter a home. Completely lost in her mind. Then she survived for a lot of COVID. Trapped in a room, who knows what state she was in. No one had seen her for a long time when she passed. Not trying to blame the facility or anything, I just mean I have no idea how sick she was or anything.
A lot of care ay home was a part of each of their experiences. I am very grateful I was able to be a part of some of it. I wish I had done more…but life is wasted on regrets. This is refection season.
For as long as I can remember I have been close with the elderly. In 7th and 8th grade I volunteered at a nursing home as an activities aid, from there I fell in love with the geriatric population. Honestly, I relate to them a lot. The slow life, soup being a staple of your diet, reading large print books and naps in the early afternoon sun. I love caring for them, but really it’s just the spending time with them. Hearing their stories, their lives. Even when they aren’t all there, I’ve found so much value in giving time and attention to them.
Working in the nursing home I had a patient, Margret. She was 80 pounds. Eyes swollen from constant crying. She was basically on a two day up one day down schedule. She would have two okay days with a few brief lucid periods. Followed by a combative day in bed. She would shout racial slurs. Scream at you for abusing her when you were trying to provide care. She was incontinent and played in it. She could be frustrating. There was a secret though, to connecting to her. You had to take care of the babies.
I would listen to her talk and most of what she would say would somehow relate back to children. Someone was hurting the children if she was upset. The children were in school if she was happy. I started beginning all of my care for her by picking up the baby dolls she had in her room and letting her know I was going to take them and feed them. I was able to build a trust with her. A relationship. With a woman who thought that the year was 1930 and that *expletives* are stealing babies and eating them. She was one of my favorite patients ever.
That title belongs to a very special lady though. My dear Irene.
My nursing career (round one) was pretty short. The pandemic burnout was very real, and in the nursing home it was so hard to watch those I loved die around me. One hurt a little too much and I actually had to pull out because of it.
Irene was 95 years old when I met her. Spunky for it too. She had a stroke and was paralyzed on her right side. Mentally, she was pretty with it. She’d slip up, she was 95 though, give her a break. When I first started she had a roommate, Phyllis. I was warned about the two and their rowdy wine and cheese happy hour traditions. They were the most quick witted on the floor. Phyllis was quite the wino so it was fun to watch them laugh, especially in a place as miserable as a nursing home. There aren’t many heads thrown back in fits of laughter. Phyllis and Irene, though, they would laugh at the hard stuff. They were my people.
Phyllis was released back to her long term care after a month or so of my being there. Soon after I started getting closer with Irene. I would took over her bedtime care on the days that I worked. I had her million pillow, OCD level bed set up down to a science. I advocated for her to continue physical therapy. I made sure that she got skim milk because the kitchen could never remember.
In return she got me married.
While I would be perfectly placing every pillow to ensure her comfort for her slumber, Irene would be gabbing on the phone to my then boyfriend. She would let him know how all the paramedics were hitting on me and that he better get on this or I would get snatched up by a doctor. She would never let that happen, she knew I loved my Navy man.
Irene had married a man in the Navy, too. Daniel. He died a long time ago. They had one beautiful baby boy together and now she is a great grandma. And a bonus, soul grandma to me.
She quite literally got me through that job. I looked forward to her shining face every shift. She truly was the reason I loved what I did. Alas, I love too hard as I’ve said before. And the healthcare system in this country isn’t exactly fair, and getting old gets you fucked by it. It was killing me to have to watch her wither away and not be able to do anything more to help.
So I left the nursing home. I thought I left nursing all together. I remember walking out of that job and going directly to the dispensary to buy some weed to celebrate. I thought “I am fucking free”, and I was. I was for a bit. It turns out it wasn’t the job that was locking me up, it was just the position.
You give me an old person, I will adopt them. They will become mine. The grumpier the better. The more nonverbal, amazing, I promise I can get a smile. Children are our world, the future. The elder though, they hold the keys from the past. We have to listen.
Thankyou so much for reading and allowing the space here to share and reflect. Hopefully it inspires some level of insight within you as well. Below are some links for you to check out. Different ways to make a difference in a life. Be kind to each other, move with love, be patient.