Somehow the word has gotten around, in my professional community, that I am a notary public. Sometimes other realtors' clients call me with notarization requests, because it's hard to find a mobile notary. I don't always grant these favors, but today I agreed to help a woman named Jane who needed someone to notarize the signature of her sister, Judy, who is in an assisted care facility. I didn't know why she was there, and I didn't ask.
Jane met me at the main door to take me to her sister's room. The facility was shabby, the carpets worn and fraying, the staff harried. Jane knocked once at Judy's door, and then took me in. I didn't know what to expect, because nobody had told me anything . . . but the woman in the bed was more ill than I had thought she would be. She was moaning in pain, her face gray, her hair sweat-damp and tangled. The room smelled incredibly foul. Judy opened her eyes and looked at me with mild horror, and I knew that despite my squeamishness and my revulsion, it would be unconscionable to compromise this woman's dignity further by allowing her to see anything I was feeling. I was dizzy, and bit my tongue to keep from gagging.
Jane prepared the document -- it was a quitclaim deed, removing Judy from the title to their mother's house, so that Jane could sell the house. My job was to witness Judy's signature, to prove that the document had been signed by her in person. Judy was so weak and in so much pain that she could barely hold the pen. I asked her a few gentle questions to make sure she knew what she was signing and that she was in a proper state of mind to sign a legal document. It took her a long time to write her name. Across the hall, another patient started a bout of wet, retching coughing. I stood there with my notary stamp in my hand, drowning in the stench of shit and despair and my own cowardly fear, and wished I could bear witness to who this woman had been before she ended up in this bed in this terrible place. I wished I could help her in some tangible way; I wished I knew what to do, other than behave as if nothing unusual was happening.
Jane saw me out to my car, with many protestations of thanks. I didn't let her pay me. . . I just couldn't. I sat in my car for a little while, thinking about Judy. Someday that might be me, or even worse, someone I love. And what will I do then, when ten minutes was almost more than I could bear? Will I find unknown reserves of strength and compassion, or will I break down and run?
It seems that the tests we fear the most are inevitably the ones we end up facing. I'm afraid of failing.
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Comments: 43
When it was MY mom, I found fury, and in becoming her advocate, I overcame the fear, the reluctance, the pain .. I didn't even notice half of what had made me squeamish before. The need to protect and the need to shelter someone you love from "slings and arrows" is powerful stuff. When you need it, you will find it, and you will succeed. I would not have believed that if it hadn't happened to me.
When I was 31, my Grandma had to be in a nursing home and eventually died there. Three years later, my Grandpa was in the same nursing home I had worked in when I was 16. I was older, but my parents were still in charge of my grandparent's care.
When I was 46 my dad had a stroke and he was in a nursing home for a few months before he died. Mom handled all of my dad's needs, with my brother and his wife helping her because they lived in the same town. I was there when I could be, but I still felt like it wasn't in my hands.
In 2001, my mom was in an assisted living place, and then in a care center until she died. This time, I was much more involved, but my older brother still took the lead. He and his wife were more 'experienced' with taking care of her parents and now ours. I felt like a fish out of water, but I did the things I needed to do. You will be able to do so too. "Self" goes by the wayside when someone you love needs you.
he has never told me of any awful experiences like that one David, it had to be hard on everyone
Would you please publish this to my group Bear Witness?
Ten stars for both you compassion and for this excellently written piece. I only wish I could give you more.
I was sharing Truth with you when I said: 'Because you did not fail a complete stranger, you will not fail those close to you and, in the doing, others will not fail you.'
Should you doubt it, then remember my well my words, for you will yet come to know the truth of it. And in the doing, you will also come to know that you are not born to littleness. You are asked to love in a loveless place, which is totally beyond you if you are indeed little. But is asked nonetheless, in affirmation that you were not created little and that littleness is not the truth of you. David, your response to Jane has demonstrated this. When you stop writing your life's script, and your words have been erased, you will see the words of God clearly written - they attest to your magnitude.
Only our disbelief and investment in littleness keeps us blind. What we value manifests. Magnitude or littleness are yours, as you elect. The spiritual journey is the transition away from the valueless to the valuable.
Peace and Light to you.
Things happen to our loved ones in life that we'd never expected. Never even thought of, or thought to have to make decisions or be a part of or the ENTIRE part. I've lost both parents to cancer, and took care of each at home. Was it easy? Hell no. Did I want to? Yes.
You get through what you have to, and you do it because you love them, no other reason. It's different when it's someone you love-- the compassion encompasses everything else - really. The love does too. And when the day comes that they pass away with you right there, you are darned glad that you were there for them.
Hugs,
Marilyn
Sometimes, David, we all fail tests. It does not mean we are failures.
Believe in your inner strength....you showed your courageous mettle at the nursing home, and maintained a calm, caring strength.
You won't run. You won't fail.
Marilyn and Cheri -- Thank you for sharing your words and (Marilyn) your experience.
Amanda -- That's an interesting comment . . . I am not aware of writing any differently than I ever have. My writers' collective disagrees with you, I fear . . . they've hated everything I've put on the table for the past six months :-)
I am a retired Social Worker, and Patient Advocate, recently moved to Delaware. You know that tiny state between New Jersey and the rest of the country. Delaware also has the honor of calling itself "the first state".
Recently I have become involved with Long Term Care facilities in Delware. What you describe is rampant and not at all what the end of life can be. It is called Nursing Home Abuse.
I have a long history of Whistleblowing such abuse when I worked in NY. Google: Bernard Bergman Nursing Home Scandals.
You noted that you wrote with a different voice when complimented on this piece.
Let me encourage you to make that voice louder, it is your true voice, use it to make the changes in our system that allows scenes such as you witnessed continue.
Write of what you saw, felt, smelled to every public official in your state, then beyond. Find your local Advocacy group...make noise.
Use the fear you feel of failure as fuel to fight this ongoing and unnecessary abuse on our parents, neighbors, children, spouses, and untimately, ourselves.
You say David's writing has improved. Does that imply that at some point it wasn't vastly superior to everyone else's pithy, mortal attempts at elocution? I notice no improvement because I was prostrated from day one.
(I'm not exaggerating, I'm just talking fancy talk.)
Start by going to your State Government sites...or Medicaid sites. Most residents in these places, end up on Medicaid, and Medicaid is so easily exploited, since the people being exploited can hardly complain. But you can.
Go to your local Ombudsman site...find out how you can help. Write what you see, take names, times and dates. Make a fuss. Don't forget to CC all your stuff everywhere...from local officials to your governor. Call the Special Investigators Office of Medicaid Fraud. Call the Patient Abuse hotline. Make yourself familiar with the rules and regulations of these facilities, which are supposed to be posted along with their latest "survey", so that anyone can read them. Ha Ha.
You might find, as I did, that postings are either not there, very old, or not where anyone can find them. Also in small type. Hey, I am having trouble reading large type, already.
You will get the impression that this entire system is hell bent on covering up the stinking reality of this particular aspect of "health care", since robbing the poor to pay the rich is so, so, so easily done.
However, every once in a while, the forces of good converge, and a particularly horrific facility is uncovered and legal action is taken. I have been part of one of those rare events, and am working on another go-round. Whether I am effective or not is not important, that I am doing what is right...is!
Meanwhile, if you rattle some nerves, and the particular facility get scared...the patients are treated better for a while. It is all part of the "game". So you take what you can get.
On a personal note...save pills and join the Hemlock Society.
Soren -- I do hope that your prostration will not end in your being incarcerated in an institution such as the one that inspired this post.
yes Sylvia that will do nicely..
Yes, Sheila, it is. My own mother was a long term patient in a hospital....she was so neglected...her hair was never washed, her nails grew so long she couldn't close her hands....she had a bedsore that ran the length of her spine, and nerves were exposed, causing her severe, debilitating pain. When I got there, and confronted the nursing staff, they gave me the "deer in the headlight" stare.
Had I known better, at the time, I would have secured an Advocate. At the time, I was horrified, and didn't know what to do. So, I washed my mother's hair, trimmed her nails, and watched the nurses gosspip at their station, knowing that, as soon as I left, my mother were be neglected again. I had many a sleepless night.
Years later, I got a job at a home for Alzheimer's patients....I was horrified at their care. I became very vocal, and got things changed.
Huzzah! We all need to speak out.
To Joe T. If you put your mother in a LTC...do your research well. Check out the home at different times of the day. Let the admissions know you know what to do if you are not happy. DO NOT KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT...IF something doesn't seem right...it is not right. Call the State...after that, the nursing home adminstrator will know you are a "squeaky wheel"...and you know what they get?
Find out what the turn over rate for staff is. How long has the Social Worker been there? Check the social worker out. We have a hard time hiding stuff. Well, I do anyway. Take nothing at face value....be a big pain in the ass. Visit often and at different times. Speak to other visitors and patients. Do your homework.
I had to put my dad in a LTC...finally...I found a good one...he was fine. Well, that I was a social worker might have helped. But I never saw anything there that bothered me. But there are very few of those.
Sheila...this is the best advice! I wish I had had someone like you to help me when my mother was infirm.
And, David, I think that maybe you should consider reporting what you saw. Chances are things could be improved for Judy.
Better than being of public notoriety.