The Way You Play It

Life is like a game of cards.  The hand that is dealt you represents determinism; the way you play it is free will.

Jawaharal Nehru,

Former Prime Minister of India

Casually tossing the stack of mail on the seat beside me, I continued on with my day unaware of the personal letter lumped in with the invoices, sales pitches and bank statements which usually await me at the post office.  Later that evening, getting back to business after dinner was served, the table cleared and the dishwasher loaded, I returned to my desk to review my next day’s agenda and sort through the mail I picked up earlier. 

It was only then that I noticed the hand-addressed envelope.  The words it contained were simple and sweet, but powerful enough to settle the unsettled feeling I had been dragging around with me for weeks. 

She teaches me and I really enjoy her company were among the written words, but it was what was written between the lines that made me feel so much better.  Written there, in invisible ink, but large bold-face type, was a message reconfirming there is always meaning and purpose to human life no matter what a causal observer may think. Thank you, Ashley.  I knew it was there, I just needed a short, straight-forward example to wrap my mind around …  She teaches me and I really enjoy her company.

About a month earlier, while making idle chitchat with another visitor at the memory care unit, the woman with whom I was conversing  unexpectedly blurted out, “I would rather take a bullet to the head, than land up like this.” Given that we were in the company of a half dozen dementia patients, her comment was inappropriate and insensitive.  Most would agree, her comment would be inappropriate and insensitive no matter what the setting.  As I gathered my belongings and prepared to quickly move Maggie down the hall, I suggested to Chatty Cathy that nobody wishes to suffer from dementia, and perhaps she should choose her words more carefully.

I confess I don’t have much of a poker face, and although I tried to hide my irritation brought on by the insensitive comment, Maggie picked up on it.  She suffers from advanced dementia and usually doesn’t seem to comprehend most conversations.  Sometimes though, she surprises me with a spot-on interpretation of what is going on around her.  A few minutes passed and as we settled into a quiet corner to watch the birds feed outside the window, she said, “Well, my dad always told me, we’ve got to make the best of it.”  She is fond of common sayings, and I have heard her repeat this one many times before.  Never in such an appropriate situation though.  I wasn’t certain whether she was directing her comment at my mood, or addressing the careless words of the other visitor.    Maybe neither.  I couldn’t be sure.  Just as I did the other times she said this, I replied, “Sometimes, that’s all we can do.”

Copyright 2012 Carol M.W. Bagazinski.  All rights reserved.

Priceless Giving ...

Although they weren’t clad in matching flashy ensembles, the Motown choreography was unmistakable.  David Ruffin, who sang lead for My Girl, must have been smiling down from Heaven, content this time to be singing back-up from a small radio in the community room of a memory care facility.  An elderly man who holds a PhD in physics, and who more closely resembles the late children’s program host Mr. Rogers than one of the Temptations, was sharing the song, a dance and pure bliss with a young African-American woman who according to statistics, earns less than 65 percent of an average U.S. worker's salary. 

Just a few minutes earlier, the elderly man had to be physically restrained by two male attendants to keep him out of harm’s way.  In an effort to calm him, the quick thinking aide flipped on some music, moved a few chairs, and took him to a happy place just a couple steps away.  Each day, the aide and others like her, offer kindness and consideration to those they serve, often returning distressed residents to a state of mental calm and serenity.   Their actions, though treasured gifts, often go unrecognized.    

Last month, U.S. consumers spent $52.4 billion shopping at malls and on-line during the Thanksgiving weekend preparing for Christmas.   I wasn’t among them.  Crowds aren’t my thing.  Besides, I’ve been trying to think outside the box, or shopping bag as the case may be, in terms of holiday gift giving this year.  This may come as unwelcome news to my 12 year-old son who has been requesting an “X Box” game system for the past six months.  To him, thinking outside the box is seemingly an impossible task, not just an idiom describing a more creative approach to problem solving.  While he is very vocal about exactly what it is his heart desires, most who share my world are not. 

Still, I remain hopeful that it will not come down to wandering aimlessly around department stores in search of random gifts during the next few weeks.  This year, I have been fortunate to witness many gift exchanges, such as the song and dance, that did not involve a paper receipt. While they might not have been pre-planned, there was nothing hit or miss about them.  I’m hoping they inspire me to be more creative with my offerings this holiday season.  Gifts given with nothing expected in return, but perhaps a few minutes of joy for the recipients who live their lives moment by moment as that is all their minds allow.  Gifts offered by caregivers, who indeed understand it is better to give, than to receive.  

Another day I arrived at the memory care unit noticing many of the female residents wearing beautiful scarves around their necks.   The scarves were all different – chiffon, silk, knitted – and few of them matched the accompanying outfits.  During lunch I overheard several of the residents, who rarely converse with one another, commenting on how lovely they all looked.  Knowing these women are not able to dress themselves, I inquired about their fancy attire.  The supervisor told me the aide who dressed them that morning tries to do something each day to make the residents in her care feel special.  That particular morning she decided it was pretty scarves.  Delightful inspiration:  doing something extra that makes someone feel special. 

A few months ago, a client who has Alzheimer’s disease required a hospital stay.   She was sick, alone and very frightened.  Knowing I could not be there around the clock as a parent might be with a small child, I picked up a teddy bear, a little ball that when squeezed changed colors, and a plastic slinky at the local dollar store.  I hoped these items would give her something to focus on, helping to keep her fears at bay.  As it turned out, I could have saved myself $2.12 because the teddy bear was the only thing that caught her interest.   The nurse was amazed by the change in her patient’s demeanor as she clutched the small bear and cheerfully chatted away at her new inanimate companion.  

The next morning I noticed the small dollar store bear was nowhere to be found.  In its place, however, was a much larger bear.  The same nurse from the day before walked in the room and said, “Oh, I hope you don’t mind, but the other bear must have been taken with the laundry so I ran down to the gift shop during my break and gave her this one.”  A medical professional who understands there’s so much more to making your patient feel better than pharmaceuticals.  What a gift!

Yes, I’ve learned a lot about gift giving during the past few months.  This year, amid all the holiday hoopla, I have added the following items to my Christmas shopping list:  kindness and consideration; doing something extra; and a small empathetic gesture.  They can’t be found at the local mall, but they will most likely be the most treasured presents I offer this season.  What do I want?  What more can I ask for?  I’ve got sunshine on a cloudy day …When it’s cold outside, I’ve got the month of May …

Copyright ©2011 by Carol M.W. Bagazinski – All Rights Reserved.