Imagine holding a piece of paper containing your name, address, and other personal information. You’ve seen such pieces of paper hundreds of times. Now, imagine that this paper contained a diagnosis that said that you have less than 6 months to live.
I held such a paper today. Fortunately, my name was not at the top. Unfortunately, someone else’s name was. Today was my first day as a hospice volunteer. I met with my new friend, let’s call him James. Of course, this is not his real name, just one that I picked out to make this a little more personal.
James was born in the 1930′s, served in the armed services for a while, likes chili, has had some interesting jobs throughout his life. He’s been robbed at gunpoint, raised children, and is now trying to raise a grandchild with his wife, but as he is for the most part bedridden, there isn’t anything that he can do to help out.
He’s a very friendly man. He used to take pictures in dance halls, or clubs, and sell them for $1.25 each to help put food on the table. He’s traveled across the country by train. I asked him if he ever read while he was on the train. “No! I didn’t want to miss any of the sights as the train moved down the track. Not one!”. Ironically, James lost his sight in 2001 and is now completely blind, yet, he seems to be in decent spirits and certainly is cordial. Our conversation was punctuated by periods of silence. I had been told that he would talk if encouraged and I found this to be true, but I also found that there was some comfort in the silence. Not all silence needs to be obliterated … something that I try to teach my boys, but they don’t understand that just yet.
Now, back to that paper. It’s an important paper, but it’s just an estimate. We all know that we are going to die; it’s inevitable. What we don’t know is when AND we assume that it will be later rather than sooner, so we put things off. We hold grudges. We make priorities of things that are of little consequence, like talking about whether or not a D3x is better than an M9. I didn’t feel sorry for James, but more so for his children who, for whatever reason, are not there to help him in his hour of need. Certainly, I cannot judge his children as I don’t know anything about this family or about anything that went on before, but I can ask, at this time, is it worth it? I’ve never walked a mile in their shoes.
No. I’m not going to get all serious on you every day. Life is about fun, or at least that’s what I think! However, there are those serious moments that cause a bit of reflection.
Anyway, I don’t have a lot to say about it. I guess that I never expected this to have such a large impact on the first day. I’m looking forward to returning, bringing a book to read to him, some chili, and some companionship. Everyone deserves it, no matter what.
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5 Responses to “Imagine, if you will …”
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Paul, if the impact wasn’t this large on the first day I’d have been surprised. Your reaction was very normal and there will be many chances for reflections ahead. The photo of Mr. Hobbs, comfort and companionship in a four legged package, was very appropriate. Good post!
@Earl: I suppose you’re right. I’m looking forward to helping over the coming months. As for the photo of Hobbs, it did seem appropriate. He’s always got it right. He knows what is important: Food and love … I think, for him, that is the correct order.
It is a wonderful thing you are doing I applaud you.
Especially because I just posted one of my self-absorbed rants about my frustrations, this hit home—and hit hard. Furthermore, I had been thinking about Hobbs just yesterday and missing hearing any news about him. Are you certain that you didn’t post this for me?
@Anita: No. This wasn’t directed at you.
It was directed at Paul Lester. He needs to see these things sometimes. As for Hobbs, well he’s doing just fine. I really miss him a lot and I love to hang out with him when I’m at home. He stays by my side and I contentedly pet him as much as we both need. We never tired of each other. As I only see him about once per week, or less, I don’t have much to report. He’s still the same wonderful dog that he’s always been. Eager to get a treat or a pat on the head, preferably both!