Ms. Barbara
I actually don't remember her name, but I believe it was Ms. Barbara...
She was an elderly woman in a nursing home that I visited for a volunteering opportunity in Los Angeles. It started off as a task for college. I was seeking volunteer hours as a student at Santa Monica College. I had chosen this particular nursing home because it was in walking distance of my apartment in West Hollywood. I don't remember the name of the facility either.
As a volunteer, I had my own name badge and on my first day I was thrown into the dining area to help set up for lunch. I tried to help out with any menial task I could find, such as placing forks on the tables, or picking up trash. It was hard for me to focus on anything because there was one elderly woman screaming, "HELP, HELP, HELP!!!" Yet, I could see nothing wrong with her because she was sitting safely in her wheel chair. But she continued to scream loudly, "HELP, HELP, HELP!!! Over and over again she screamed for help although nothing was visibly wrong.
Needless to say, I didn't enjoy that at all. When I give of my time and of myself, I need to feel like I'm serving a purpose. Placing forks on a table and staring at a frightened elderly woman yelling for help did not fulfill a purpose. The next time I came to the facility, I didn't have my badge on. Something inside of me wanted to connect on a deeper level with an elderly person living out the rest of his or her life in a nursing home.
I entered the building in search of someone to offer my companionship to. I ran into an elderly man with a radio, and we held a small conversation, but I didn't feel any connection with him. I began walking the halls and peeking into rooms on the left and right of the halls. Then I heard a voice call out, "Young lady, young lady!" I stopped and walked to the open door of the room.
"Would you give me a peppermint please and some water?" she requested. I guess she thought I was an administrator. I quickly walked up the halls in search of a nurse to assist the woman. When the nurses came into the room, they told me that Ms. Barbara was not allowed to have anything to eat or drink, and that she was fully aware of that. I never asked why, and because I wasn't family I knew they wouldn't tell me any way.
After the nurses left, I sparked a conversation with Ms. Barbara. I asked her about her family and about her upbringing. This was 5 years ago, so I can't recall all of the details about the conversation. I think she was around 80 years old, and she was from Mississippi. She told me she had a husband and some children as well. I wasn't really sure how much of the information was accurate because I think she may have suffered from dementia. She never could remember my name, but after a while she remembered my face.
I started coming back to visit her regularly. I even brought her some balloons once. We would talk and laugh, and the nurses would even come in and help her practice my name, "Reemona, Reemona." She'd gotten so accustomed to me coming to visit that she'd say, "Make sure you come see me, and don't jive me."
After I moved from the apartment on North Hayworth, to the duplex on South Curson, I never visited Ms. Barbara again. I often think of her. I wonder if she's still on this side of glory. I wonder if she remembers me. I wonder if she ever got her peppermint and water.
I don't know why I happened to be linked up with Ms. Barbara, but I don't believe in coincidence, only providence. Maybe we were just the person that the other one needed.
Whenever I sat with Ms. Barbara I felt fulfilled. We had many talks about many different things, but what stood out to me the most was her faith. Although she may have been suffering from dementia, she was clear about her faith and love for a Higher Power.
Well, Ms. Barbara, wherever you are, I hope I was able to shine a little light on your world. My prayer is that you are at peace whether you are physically present on Earth, or spiritually present in heaven. I enjoyed the time we spent together, and I'll never forget you.
She was an elderly woman in a nursing home that I visited for a volunteering opportunity in Los Angeles. It started off as a task for college. I was seeking volunteer hours as a student at Santa Monica College. I had chosen this particular nursing home because it was in walking distance of my apartment in West Hollywood. I don't remember the name of the facility either.
As a volunteer, I had my own name badge and on my first day I was thrown into the dining area to help set up for lunch. I tried to help out with any menial task I could find, such as placing forks on the tables, or picking up trash. It was hard for me to focus on anything because there was one elderly woman screaming, "HELP, HELP, HELP!!!" Yet, I could see nothing wrong with her because she was sitting safely in her wheel chair. But she continued to scream loudly, "HELP, HELP, HELP!!! Over and over again she screamed for help although nothing was visibly wrong.
Needless to say, I didn't enjoy that at all. When I give of my time and of myself, I need to feel like I'm serving a purpose. Placing forks on a table and staring at a frightened elderly woman yelling for help did not fulfill a purpose. The next time I came to the facility, I didn't have my badge on. Something inside of me wanted to connect on a deeper level with an elderly person living out the rest of his or her life in a nursing home.
I entered the building in search of someone to offer my companionship to. I ran into an elderly man with a radio, and we held a small conversation, but I didn't feel any connection with him. I began walking the halls and peeking into rooms on the left and right of the halls. Then I heard a voice call out, "Young lady, young lady!" I stopped and walked to the open door of the room.
"Would you give me a peppermint please and some water?" she requested. I guess she thought I was an administrator. I quickly walked up the halls in search of a nurse to assist the woman. When the nurses came into the room, they told me that Ms. Barbara was not allowed to have anything to eat or drink, and that she was fully aware of that. I never asked why, and because I wasn't family I knew they wouldn't tell me any way.
After the nurses left, I sparked a conversation with Ms. Barbara. I asked her about her family and about her upbringing. This was 5 years ago, so I can't recall all of the details about the conversation. I think she was around 80 years old, and she was from Mississippi. She told me she had a husband and some children as well. I wasn't really sure how much of the information was accurate because I think she may have suffered from dementia. She never could remember my name, but after a while she remembered my face.
I started coming back to visit her regularly. I even brought her some balloons once. We would talk and laugh, and the nurses would even come in and help her practice my name, "Reemona, Reemona." She'd gotten so accustomed to me coming to visit that she'd say, "Make sure you come see me, and don't jive me."
After I moved from the apartment on North Hayworth, to the duplex on South Curson, I never visited Ms. Barbara again. I often think of her. I wonder if she's still on this side of glory. I wonder if she remembers me. I wonder if she ever got her peppermint and water.
I don't know why I happened to be linked up with Ms. Barbara, but I don't believe in coincidence, only providence. Maybe we were just the person that the other one needed.
Whenever I sat with Ms. Barbara I felt fulfilled. We had many talks about many different things, but what stood out to me the most was her faith. Although she may have been suffering from dementia, she was clear about her faith and love for a Higher Power.
Well, Ms. Barbara, wherever you are, I hope I was able to shine a little light on your world. My prayer is that you are at peace whether you are physically present on Earth, or spiritually present in heaven. I enjoyed the time we spent together, and I'll never forget you.
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