Humbled

Before last Tuesday I never dreamed that I'd be patient enough to care for a woman who is over four times my age. I was worried that I would have to do everything for her and that the experience would be a waste of my time.

Instead, I have been in awe of this incredible lady. Each day she surprises me with more progress, and even though she'll have an occasional bad day which slows her down, she'll let us push her to make her stronger.

Today, despite the sheer exhaustion that hides in her tired eyes, Mrs. H found her way from the den into the living room, where she proclaimed that she needed to practice walking. I almost cried from happiness. It was such a victorious sign. I was so proud of her and made sure I was clear about that. Each day is a step in the right direction.


Unfortunately, later in the day I witnessed something that broke my heart and made me realize that even though she is constantly progressing, she will never have her old body back. Just before I left, I was talking with Mrs. M, Mrs. H's youngest daughter. We were discussing the progress that Mrs. H has been making over the past two weeks. After a few minutes we walked into the den to talk to Mrs. H. She was sound asleep in her chair, as she had been for most of the afternoon. She awoke with a smile when her daughter entered the room and sat next to her on the couch. Their conversation brought tears to my eyes.

Mrs. H: "I'm fading..."
Mrs. M: "What if we don't want you to fade?"
Mrs. H: with a scary serious face "I'm fading..."

To see something so private made me sad. I've known all the way through that this was a possibility, but it made me pray extra hard for Mrs. H to gather the strength to make it through. She's very stubborn like that, so I wouldn't be surprised if she lasted another 15 years. Unfortunately, if she's admitting that she's fading, there's the chance that she won't let herself get better. I fear that the independent soul she once had has been replaced by the requirement of someone being by her side all the time. We forgot to ask ourselves what are the repercussions.

I suppose that deep down I'm so terrified of being the one to discover her after she's completed her journey to heaven, and for that I try to encourage her independence. I often think that if she can hold onto that one piece of her past, she'll make it through. Don't get me wrong, I understand that her passing is inevitable. I just don't want it to be anytime soon.

Maybe I'm selfish. Okay, let me rephrase. I know I'm selfish. This job has been helping me with that. It's opening new doors for me. I can feel a new maturity wash over me, preparing me for life. Mrs. H has shown me the importance of caring for others. I adore seeing her every day. She always treats me like I'm family, which is how I one day hope to be. Her hospitality is extended not just towards friends and family, but also towards strangers. When new social workers come to visit, she treats them with as much courtesy, if not more, than what she would expect.


I guess this post was a way for me to not only express how I'm feeling, but also to ask for prayers for Mrs. H's recovery. She needs her independence and she needs it soon.