Memories of a Candystriper
As a teenager, I really enjoyed my weekly candy striping in Evergreen House at Lions Gate Hospital. Basically, it involved just hanging around with the seniors who lived there and received end of life care. I got to know and love each of them individually. My “responsibilities” occasionally involved feeding someone, but usually I just talked with them, sat with them, and sometimes sang a song.
One lady I remember was extremely cantankerous and her main activity consisted of scanning the yellow pages and phone books to find the number of someone she was going to call to rent a house and get out of this place she hated so much. She couldn’t eat by herself so I had to try to get the food in her mouth while she kept pushing back at me and reaching for the phone book. Sometimes, I would sit there and leaf through the pages with her. Her plight really touched me.
There was a joyful man, a relatively young resident with — I don’t know what — but he would wander the halls and smile. Sometimes he had a walker. I didn’t help him much but he was a nice presence. Another lady couldn’t talk at all and sat motionless in her chair all the time. I would hold her hand and sing, and I felt that she appreciated it.
I became close to one old couple and spent time with them every week. She was a resident of the ward, while her husband came to stay with her most of the day. They played cards with really sharp minds, and taught me how to play “29”. I was mentally quick, too, and got good at it, though they had the advantage of experience. We didn’t talk about many things, but just enjoyed each others’ company.
One day, upon coming to the floor, I inquired why my friends weren’t in their usual place in the sunroom and I was told that she was sick. Sadly, as a naive teenager, I felt shy and didn’t go looking for them in her room. The next week I came in to find out that she had passed away. I will never forget my sadness about that, and the regret that I had not gone to see her the week before. I wanted to write a letter to her husband, but I didn’t even do that. I guess I couldn’t really deal with the sense of loss and was immaturely trying to ignore my feelings and pretend the whole thing hadn’t happened. Suddenly, these two kind elders were gone from my life.
It makes me sad to think of it even now. To think that I hadn’t had the courage or maturity to reach out to them back then. But I am somewhat comforted by the fact that we had such a simple, loving connection… that endures, surely. I believe that one day we will meet again, hopefully in a time when I have the confidence to come forth and express my caring heart.
Kerry