George

When my mom was first moved to Lakeland Continuing Care Center on December 1 I learned a lot about myself. I sobbed as the ambulance crew readied my mom and wheeled her out of her hospital room. She was nearly in a coma at that point, and completely unaware of what was happening. I, however, knew exactly what was happening. My mom was being moved to a nursing home, and we had no idea how much recovery we would ever see. A nursing home. Ewwww.

At that time my nursing home experience was limited to Christmas caroling there with youth groups and my time working in marketing at Lakeland. There were -- hut hum -- old people there. I really didn't know how to deal with them, and knew I would never want to work in one. There were people who drooled, in wheelchairs, and I had no idea how to approach them.

How life changes you. I spent hours and hours there in the five months my mom lived there. I realized how wonderful the residents are. I realized how compassionate the staff there is, and how hard they work. I learned that I can relate to "old people," and I loved it.

I loved sitting my mom at the same lunch table each day. Talking with Agnes who was always, "Fit as a fiddle and ready for love," when you asked how she was. And who amazed me when I learned she was 102! I enjoyed conversations with her daughter, Kathleen, who lunched there most days. I learned to smile and cheerfully answer Virginia's same questions again... and again... and again. And George became my boyfriend. :)

George has been a resident for many, many, many years. A massive stroke has him in a wheelchair with the use of one hand, an inability to talk, and swallowing issues. In my prior life he would have been the resident that I saw drooling in a wheelchair, food on his face, hands and shirt... and I would have left him to someone else to help. In my new life I am happy to hand George napkins, help him with his food, and talk to him. I have learned enough of his facial expression language to converse with him. But my favorite is his thumbs up every time I see him. It hurts my heart that, although married with a grown family, I never once saw anyone visit him. So when my mom moved, I handed George a McDonald's milkshake and told him that I would still visit him. He got a hug and a kiss, and a thumbs up on my way out.

I feel guilty that it took me a month to make due on my promise. Today I stopped in with cookies for George. An employee I knew was there in the doorway when I got there, and most residents were in a program in the dining room. I talked with the employee a minute, then peeked in the dining room looking for George. The employee said he had been taken to the hospital today, but he couldn't tell me more because of confidentiality. I said, "Well, maybe I can swing by there to visit." No, I was told it wouldn't be a good idea today and he was still in the ER.

So here I am, saying prayers for George. Hoping that someone came to sit with him in the hospital and keep him company. Ease his nerves. Hoping that what took him there is minor and he gets to go back home soon. So if you've read this far, whisper a prayer for George for me.