This is life... as long as you've got it

Janice hugs me when I enter her home. 

“I don’t get out much anymore,” she says, her eyes sparkling with tears. “So when they asked me if I wanted a hospice volunteer to come for a few hours so I could run errands… well, of course!”

Janice glances at my volunteer name badge and frowns. “Why do you do this? I mean, you’re young. Don’t you work?”

I must look surprised, because she waves her hand and blushes. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to say that,” she says. “I just know I wouldn’t put myself in a situation like this if I didn’t have to.”

“I do work,” I say gently. “I have a flexible schedule and volunteering is important to me, so I make time for it.”

She wonders why I would choose to be a hospice volunteer when I could spend my time playing with children or helping      animals. I give her the abbreviated version  of my story: I was my dad’s caregiver, his cancer diagnosis was similar to her father-in-law’s, and hospice volunteers helped me see the beauty in allowing my dad to die with dignity.

Before leaving, Janice introduces me to her father-in-law, Ralph, and he seems comfortable with me from the start. So comfortable, in fact, that he launches into his life story and his long career as an ironworker.

“I worked for a man and did whatever he wanted. I didn’t argue,” he says with a smirk. “Kids these days, they don’t know the meaning of real work. What I did, that was hard work.”

I just smile and nod. Ralph is deaf now and hears only slightly in his left ear with a hearing aid. When questions are asked of him, he becomes agitated. So, I listen as he tells me about all of the medications he takes and how he can’t seem to keep his thoughts organized.

Then Ralph shares about his colon cancer diagnosis, the chemotherapy he had, and how he’s lost feeling in his hands and feet.

“I walk across the cold floor and I don’t even know it’s cold,” he says and holds out his hands. “I drop something every day.”

He’s suffering from neuropathy, I guess.  My dad went through the same thing. I feel a pang of sadness, but then a wave of  comfort comes over me. I know my dad is proud of me, turning my pain and grief into something positive by volunteering. He used to call me his angel and say I was the bright spot in his day. I volunteer so I can continue to be that bright spot for hospice patients. In doing so, my dad’s legacy lives on through me.

Ralph lets out a heavy sigh. “This is life… as long as you’ve got it,” he says.

We sit in silence for awhile, then he asks me how mechanically inclined I am.

“Not very,” I admit.

He asks me to add water to his oxygen machine so the air doesn’t burn his nose. He directs me through the steps without any trouble and we’re both happy.

“People can do anything if they set their minds to it,” he says and points at me. “You can do anything, I’m sure of it.”

I smile. I needed to hear that today.

Janice returns a few hours later and checks the ice machine by Ralph’s bed. “He loves chewing on ice,” she says. “That’s the most important thing to him now.”

“Once upon a time I loved fishing,” Ralph chimes in. “Now I just watch it on TV. I always wanted to catch a cobia fish. I’ve heard they’re good eating.”

I bid Ralph farewell, gather my bag and follow Janice out of the room.

“I’m just going to rest my eyes for a moment,” Ralph calls from the bed. I reach for the light dimmer switch and when I look back, he’s already asleep.

“Sweet dreams,” I whisper.

Janice gives me a hug and thanks me for my time. On the way to my car, I check the clock on my phone. Three hours have passed and I have several errands to run before I pick up my son from school. 

Some people like Janice wonder why a middle-aged, single mother working a full-time job would give up precious time in an already busy day to sit with a stranger who can’t hear half of what she says.

The reason is this: The volunteers who gave up their precious time to sit with my dad made an impact not only on him, but also on me. I appreciated them more than they could ever know. Now, when I volunteer, I feel a connection to my dad that is so strong, it’s almost as if a piece of him is still here.