Life

A few days ago I volunteered at an elderly activity center. It was actually my second time at the center; fun because I got to see some of the same people again and they knew me! They ran up and gave us (the students) hugs and wanted to meet the new student that was with us. I knew some of them had memory impairments, but they remembered me and we had wonderful little conversations. One of my favorite ladies (I'll call her Mrs. S for privacy purposes) had looked familiar to me on the first day, but I thought it might be because she had the most beautiful blue eyes and was always smiling. If you choose what you want to act like at 90, she epitomizes it!

During one of the activities, a Rabbi stuck his head in to say hello to the class. We were doing crafts, and he noticed Mrs. S. He said "Mrs. S I was so sorry to hear of your husbands passing. He was a great man of God. Please give my regards to your daughter and if you need anything at all I am happy to help." Now this seemed normal enough; Mrs. S thanked him, we continued doing our crafts, all was well with the world. When it was time to clean up the crafts table and head to lunch, Mrs. S stood up and walked toward the office with a very bewildered look on her face.

The program director asked Mrs. S what she was doing to which she replied "I need to call home. I need to call home right now. Someone needs to pick me up." The program director reminded her that her daughter had dropped her off and her caregiver would be in to pick her up after the program was over; nobody was at home for her to call. Mrs. S repeated her request and the program director asked her who she wanted to call. Mrs. S said "I need to call my husband right now." The mood in the room completely changed as the students, caretakers, and elderly participants realized what was taking place.

Mrs. S then told the program director why she needed to call home. Her blue eyes welled up with tears as she said "I've just heard the most awful news. Someone told me that my husband has died!" The program director confirmed this news and reminded Mrs. S that she had been at his funeral. She reminded her that it was very nice and that her husband had lived a wonderful life. Mrs. S was obviously still upset, but went up to lunch and finished the afternoon activities. Her affect (something used to describe her demeanor, kind of her facial expression and the way she is acting along with it) was very flat. She was very quiet for the rest of the afternoon. When her caretaker came to pick her up, she bolted from her chair to meet her at the door.

"I've just heard that my husband died." The caretaker replied, "Yes, Mrs. S your husband passed away about a month ago. Do you remember him being in the hospital?" "Yes" Mrs. S replied. "Do you remember that we talked about him being very sick?" "Yes, but why didn't anyone tell me he died? Why are you trying to hide it from me?" replied Mrs. S. The caretaker began to remind Mrs. S that her husband had lived a wonderful life, that he was in Methodist hospital and Mr. S lived all the way to 90 years old.

At that very moment, it hit me. She was there after he died. That was the reason she looked familiar. Mrs. S was the wife of one of my very first patients as a student. He died about a month ago 10 minutes before my shift. The hospital had to get everything completed quickly so that he could be buried before sundown (a Jewish practice).

I felt horrible that Mrs. S had forgotten. She is such a sweet woman and always so very happy. She is surrounded by a loving family and a caretaker that absolutely adores her. It was excruciating to see her reliving her husband's death and realizing that this scenario will likely play out a number of times in the future. That day I cried.

I'm sorry if this post is a little depressing, but it is real life. It helps me document my experiences so that I can look back on them one day. I hope it will help me to provide better care to my patients; I know it is therapeutic for me.