It was torture. Woodrow is a hopsice volunteer and so off we go to see Sam once a week. Sam is 95 years young and far more with it than I. He's had a long life, a good life, worked hard, raised a family, and was devastated when his wife of 66 years and 2 months died a few years back. He's survived 4 heart attacks, open heart surgery, couple rounds of cancer, oh and he was shot in the head back in Kentucky and still has the bullet lodged to prove it.
Sam has given me so much over these last 2 years (hospice defier, I love it), and the hardest thing about leaving for the summer was having to say goodbye to him. There aren't enough volunteers to go around (many patients die before they ever get one assigned to them), and so I know he won't be getting a replacement in my absence. This wouldn't cause me such shame if I knew his family would be there - yet, they are not.
Aside from one grown grandson that brings him his groceries once a week, Sam has absolutely no contact with his family. Well, maybe a phone call from his son (Sam, Jr., ahem), once a year. That's it. It breaks my heart. Since Sam lives in his own apartment, the only visitors he has are his hospice nurse that comes by once a week and well, Woodrow and I. Imagine that life and tell me he doesn't deserve more.
I just have a hard time with the way our society treats the elderly, sometimes. We cast them off, easily forget, prioritize our weekly trip to Chili's over a visit, and simply tell ourselves we're too busy to care. Perhaps one's grandparents have already passed and they feel they are off the hook - oh my, go to a nursing home, walk the halls and just knock on a door, any door and see how welcomed you will be. These are our veterans! These are those whom stormed into battle at as 17 year old kids and risked everything for us, yet there they sit alone, forgotten, waiting to die because that would be so much better than feeling abandoned everyday.
Okay, off the soapbox. I get a little worked up. This was a World I had no idea about until going through it with my grandparents these last few years. We were fortunate enough to be able to provide nice places for them to live and yet, still watched them suffer daily in their failing bodies and minds. Hospice was a godsend with each of them and I will never forget Jimmy, that sweet hospice volunteer that drove with me through a blizzard to go and fetch my grandma at 2am to come and be at my grandpa's side as he passed on.
I'll admit, I hope Sam passes in his sleep and never has to gasp for those final breaths but even more so, I hope his family can step up and realize what an amazing legend they have right in front of them. When I went to say goodbye the other day, I held his hand and gave him kisses and told him how much I would miss him. He put his head in his hands and wept. Not necessarily for losing me, but for losing the company, someone to talk to, to smile with, and that fine hound that comes to see him. God bless you Sam. I will sure miss you. Selfishly, I hope I get to see you again in the fall. Honestly, I hope your little body lets you go.
No comments:
Post a Comment