Last night gave me a lot to think about. My 86 year old friend, Beverlee called me during the day and asked if I could pick her up from the VA Hospital ICU in Baltimore City and drive her home after I got out of work. Of course, I did.
Bev had lung cancer and recovered successfully years ago. She's also had other lung-related ailments, although never a smoker. Over the last year, she's lost about 20 pounds and stands around 4'7" and weighs around 80 pounds. She's extremely frail, has severe breathing difficulties and has used a walker for the last two years. She's also been on oxygen 24/7 since about 6 months ago. I've watched the physical abilities fade from her over the last two years, mostly the last 6 months.
Bev's husband passed away some 40 years ago when he was around my age. She's never forgotten him. He was and always will be the love of her life. His pictures adorn her apartment.
Beverlee has one son who lives in another state with his family. She doesn't like speaking with him, because he's apparently very selfish. She wonders often how he turned out that way. She tells me that she can only turn to a niece and her husband for help, who live in Pennsylvania (a 90 minute drive), so she called me.
Up until last night, Beverlee has had all of her faculties. However, pulling out of the VA Hospital parking garage last night, she kept asking me "where did you park?" I told her we were driving in my truck. She asked again. Finally I asked who she was talking to, and she said "Darlene." I told her Darlene wasn't in my truck, then she realized where she was.
She also kept talking about a nasty young woman that she was currently "working with in an office" - so it sounded like she was remembering something from the 1950s or 1960s. Then it got mixed in with being at the hospital. I couldn't follow it. She became paranoid that that nasty woman would follow her and I back to her apt. or call her and harrass her. I told her there was no one.
When I got to the apt. bldg where she lives (a retirement building, but NOT assisted living, which she so desperately needs), I parked outside (on Charles Street, a main street in Baltimore) and ran and got a wheelchair to bring her inside.
Once inside her apt. she collapsed on her bed, while I helped organize things a little. She looked very frail, and I wondered how long it would be before she wanted to join her husband in Heaven.
Her oxygen machine wasn't working either, so I called an emergency technician who arrived 1 1/2 hours later with a replacement. While we were waiting, she lay on her bed talking occasionally about the hospital, and how she needs to immediately move to assisted living. (I gave her a bunch of places to contact, several months back). Once rested, she seemed more coherent, and the technician arrived and left. So I headed back home. I call and check on her almost every day, as I do with my own mom (300 miles away).
I think the big fear is growing old and not having anyone to help us. Tom and I talk about that, as we won't have children. However, at least we can be there for others. That's what life is about. Please keep Bev in your thoughts and prayers.
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