Another Evening With The Village Elders ...
ServiceSpace
--Mia Tagano
2 minute read
Nov 15, 2014

 

Two fire trucks and an ambulance were in front of the nursing home as I pulled up. My chest tightened. The reality here is that people do not necessarily get better – they come here to die. Still, after visiting almost 6 months now, I have come to care for the residents. It always makes me sad when someone passes.

Inside, I half expected there to be a rush of firemen or paramedics shouting, “Code blue” or “Clear the way!” but that is only on TV. Here, it is business as usual – all in a days work.

Down the hall, Mr. Le was propped up on the sofa, his one foot in his wheel chair. He has good days and not so good, today was a sad one. I sat with him while he spoke to me in Vietnamese with tears in his eyes; I held his hand and nodded as if I understood. Later, Mrs. Owens brightened up as I came into the room and reached for me as she always does now. I spoke to her about the cold and laughed about winter being here for sure before going to my grandmother who was working intently on a word search puzzle.

Turns out she’s pretty good at finding the words; It is the one activity that keeps her from wandering around lost. I greet her with a big smile and hello – she responds in kind adding, “Where have you been? Long time no see! Sit down, Sit down!” It is part of our ritual. Next we take a walk through the halls where she complains to all the nurses, “She’s making me…WALK!” We all laugh including her.

Next, is shower-time - another something she will complain about at first but is always grateful for during and afterwards. We spend shower-time getting wet (me barefoot but fully clothed) and laughing through the washing and drying. It is a sweet time, I will never forget. Before putting her to bed, she hugs me tightly and thanks me for helping her. I say my goodnights and sweet dreams to both her and Mrs Owens who now adds, “Be careful!” with a wave and a smile.

As I approach the front lobby, I see Mr. Yakov in the doorway – he was trying to escape (for a 90 something year old man with a broken foot confined to a wheel chair, he is pretty mobile). Now, he is holding on to the door refusing to let go. 3 nurses are trying to get him to come inside. Tomorrow all of this will be forgotten. At least, by most who live here. For the rest who remember, no matter, it will be a new day for us as well ☺         

 

Posted by Mia Tagano on Nov 15, 2014


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