"Mi amor, mi amor."
I haven't missed a day.
One time I almost missed a day and I had the worst anxiety. I felt distracted. I was worried. I felt guilty. So I made my visit late at night after work. I only stayed for fifteen minutes but the anxiety went away.
Since I've been there every day for almost a month I've started to notice the routines: medications and breakfast are between 9:00-10:00, our roommate Jean sits in the hall every two days but only when Nurse Anna is there (she's a little grumpy and Anna is the only one that can get her to get out of bed), Issac watches TV at noon and checks his Facebook at 12:30 (we're "good friends" now and will be for a long time), the woman with the pretty pink hat sits by the fountain (rain or shine) after lunch and once a week she eats my FAVORITE Jalapeno potato chips which we've decided we both think are the best chips ever.
I've gotten to know a few of the residents and many of the workers at the convalescent home. I like to people watch, I especially like to say 'hello' to people...it didn't take long for me to start talking to people.
Everyone there has amazing stories, I just know it. Sometimes, when my aunt is sleeping, I watch everyone as they meander through the hallways carrying on with their routines and I imagine where they came from, how they got there, where their families are and if they get many visitors...
One man in particular never misses a day either. I see him everyday. All the employees know him, even the kitchen staff. He only speaks Spanish and everyone calls him Juanito. Juanito is always cheery, saying hello to everyone he passes, even if they don't acknowledge him. He visits the woman who sits in the wheel chair two doors down from my aunt. I haven't found out her name yet because she doesn't talk to me.
She won't say hello. She sits in the hallway and waits for Juanito.
The woman cradles a small white stuffed bear that she treats like a baby. The minute Juanito turns the corner she starts waving down the hallway. He gets an extra pep in his step and hurriedly makes his way to her. Everyday he brings a new blanket for her "baby." They immediately wheel their way off to one of the common areas where they spend the afternoon together watching tv and sharing their lunch...taking care of their baby.
One day I was near the vending machine at the end of the hall. We weren't having a very good day and the room got heavy. I needed air. I couldn't breathe. Juanito never really said more then a quick hello, he was always in a hurry to get to the reason for his visit. This day he stopped for just a minute and gave me a questioning look pointing to my aunt's door (he had already figured out I don't speak Spanish. I guess I'm not the only one paying attention.) I pointed and replied "Mi Tia. Cancer."
"Oh, okay" with the most understanding acknowledgment in his face.
He then pointed down the hallway in the direction of the woman he left for just a second while he grabbed some water.
Holding his hands over his heart he replied "Mi Amor, mi amor. Dementia."
"Oh, okay" with the most understanding acknowledgment I could give.
"Okay," he said in the most broken English, "I have to go." And he cheerily made his way back to his love.
The weight lifted and suddenly I could breathe again. I went back to the room and we got through our heavy day.
One time I almost missed a day and I had the worst anxiety. I felt distracted. I was worried. I felt guilty. So I made my visit late at night after work. I only stayed for fifteen minutes but the anxiety went away.
Since I've been there every day for almost a month I've started to notice the routines: medications and breakfast are between 9:00-10:00, our roommate Jean sits in the hall every two days but only when Nurse Anna is there (she's a little grumpy and Anna is the only one that can get her to get out of bed), Issac watches TV at noon and checks his Facebook at 12:30 (we're "good friends" now and will be for a long time), the woman with the pretty pink hat sits by the fountain (rain or shine) after lunch and once a week she eats my FAVORITE Jalapeno potato chips which we've decided we both think are the best chips ever.
I've gotten to know a few of the residents and many of the workers at the convalescent home. I like to people watch, I especially like to say 'hello' to people...it didn't take long for me to start talking to people.
Everyone there has amazing stories, I just know it. Sometimes, when my aunt is sleeping, I watch everyone as they meander through the hallways carrying on with their routines and I imagine where they came from, how they got there, where their families are and if they get many visitors...
One man in particular never misses a day either. I see him everyday. All the employees know him, even the kitchen staff. He only speaks Spanish and everyone calls him Juanito. Juanito is always cheery, saying hello to everyone he passes, even if they don't acknowledge him. He visits the woman who sits in the wheel chair two doors down from my aunt. I haven't found out her name yet because she doesn't talk to me.
She won't say hello. She sits in the hallway and waits for Juanito.
The woman cradles a small white stuffed bear that she treats like a baby. The minute Juanito turns the corner she starts waving down the hallway. He gets an extra pep in his step and hurriedly makes his way to her. Everyday he brings a new blanket for her "baby." They immediately wheel their way off to one of the common areas where they spend the afternoon together watching tv and sharing their lunch...taking care of their baby.
One day I was near the vending machine at the end of the hall. We weren't having a very good day and the room got heavy. I needed air. I couldn't breathe. Juanito never really said more then a quick hello, he was always in a hurry to get to the reason for his visit. This day he stopped for just a minute and gave me a questioning look pointing to my aunt's door (he had already figured out I don't speak Spanish. I guess I'm not the only one paying attention.) I pointed and replied "Mi Tia. Cancer."
"Oh, okay" with the most understanding acknowledgment in his face.
He then pointed down the hallway in the direction of the woman he left for just a second while he grabbed some water.
Holding his hands over his heart he replied "Mi Amor, mi amor. Dementia."
"Oh, okay" with the most understanding acknowledgment I could give.
"Okay," he said in the most broken English, "I have to go." And he cheerily made his way back to his love.
The weight lifted and suddenly I could breathe again. I went back to the room and we got through our heavy day.
Comments
Post a Comment