How Can I Be of Comfort?

This question comes up routinely when volunteers are committing to share time with Little Brothers Friends of the Elderly friends. I have struggled over the years as to what may be the right response. This has been a long year for our country, our friends and family and our elders that we serve here in San Francisco. We are enduring a war that has tragic clips that we now watch again at the dinner hour as we once did in the 60’s. We are still recovering from the devastation of 9-11 and now here we are with the natural disaster that has occurred in the south from Hurricane Katrina. We ask ourselves what we can do to help shape the world that we live in and decrease the suffering that takes place each and every day in this world.

Earlier this year my mother was diagnosed with lung cancer. Unfortunately by the time that she felt the decline from the disease it had well advanced passed any hopes of survival and my sister and I were faced with the reality that we now were in the position of being her voice. We advocated with the doctor’s and hospice and made the long journey that was needed for her to transition away from us. During that process I realized that this strong woman actually allowed us to make decisions for her and trusted that all would be well. This was the comfort of her loved ones that steadfastly stayed by her side until the end.

I returned to work with that weighing heavily on my shoulders as I understood that the elders, Little Brothers Friends of the Elderly are serving are isolated and do not have any one to be their comfort during their trials and tribulations. The question remained unanswered in a sense of “How Can I Be of Comfort”.

Part of my duties as Visiting Volunteer Program Manager with Little Brothers Friends of the Elderly is to perform home visits to our referred elders for placement in our programs.  Recently, I had the fortune to meet a lovely charming lady aged 89 whose name is Helen. She had referred herself to our program, she was lonely and had no family members in the area and her only child had died years ago, tragically of a brain aneurism. Helen suffers from macular degeneration. MG is the leading cause of severe vision loss in elders over the age of 65. MG affects your ability to see near and far, and can make some activities like reading difficult or impossible.

While Helen and I talked and as she looked at me with those seeing yet not seeing eyes, we began to talk about how it was that she lived alone and all she could see was shadows? She excitedly began to tell me in detail a procedure that she had gotten at John Hopkins Hospital called photo-dynamic therapy. The end result was that this condition could not be cured, but that it would keep her vision as is. That was important to her to keep the shadows. Seeing shadows meant continued independence. There was only one problem, she was unable to return to the doctors here in San Francisco and continue the treatments. Helen’s only problem was that she could not get there alone. How can I be of comfort rang through my head and I let her know that I would take her to the appointment and stay with her through out the day.

When I went to pick her up and led her to the elevator she asked for my arm which I gave to help guide her. She remarked what strength I had. When the cab arrived I helped her into to the seat, she remarked what patience I had. When we arrived at the hospital and I situated her while I went and commandeered a wheelchair for her she remarked how smart I was. When the doctor called her name she asked if I would go with her and stay during the examination. I entered the room as her doctor examined her eyes and chided her for not coming back sooner, she remarked I did not have my good friend Gina then, but here I am now. He decided that she needed an angiogram which is actually taking pictures of the back of her retina to see if she needed any further Photo-dynamic treatments. I watched the picture on the screen of the machine and then he gave me goggles to protect my eyes while he gave a laser treatment.

While we waited for the doctor to examine the x-rays we began to talk about Krispy Kream donuts and her love for them. I let her know that I also liked them and tried to stay away from the high fat content. She remarked what a fine figure I had and in her opinion I was the perfect size. We made a follow up appointment and I gave the front desk my card so that they could keep me also abreast of any future appointments, she smiled and remarked what generosity I had. When we returned to her home after a long day and she was tired and held my arm as we went into her apartment she remarked what a comfort I had been.

When I left her home I realized that I had felt none of those things that morning when I woke up. I was imperfect, not at all patient, smart, strong nor a comfort or generous at least in my own eyes that supposedly see clearly. What a gift she had given me I now had the answer to the question of “How can I be of Comfort”? I had the answer and the example; I had the gift of a brand new friend who calls me Miss Gina despite my protests and the forty year difference in our ages. She had also lifted the heaviness that I had brought back from my own life.