Stories of Hope and Courage-
By Joe Guse
Copyright 2006, Aardvark Publishing
To my mother Rosemary Guse, who instilled in me
the values necessary to write this book.
Foreword
A couple of years ago I thought I had it all. I had had some success in Chicago, traveled often, and seemingly had everything a young single man could need. Yet still I felt that something was missing. I would lie in bed thinking about the direction my life was going and always felt vaguely uneasy. One day I got a call from my mother informing me my father had died, and this marked a turning point for me both personally and professionally. I had never been close to my father, and returning home for his funeral I was filled with many conflicting emotions.
At my dad’s funeral the priest conducting the services read an excerpt from the book “Tuesday’s with Morrie” which was a book I was familiar with, but that really took on added meaning given the circumstances. Hearing the priest talk about regret really struck a cord, and something occurred to me at that moment which I’ll never forget.
The thing is I had forgotten something in my life that I used to believe very firmly. Martin Luther King’s quote that “Life’s most persistent question is, what are you doing for other people” were words that I had once pledged to live by, but somewhere along the way I had gotten lost. For several years I had been living almost exclusively for myself and I realized at that moment during my father’s funeral that that was what had been keeping me up at nights.
When I arrived home I had made a decision, and shortly afterwards quit my high paying job and began working in a nursing home for the whopping sum of 8 dollars an hour.
Walking onto an Alzheimer’s unit for the first time is an overwhelming site. Hearing the screaming and crying and seeing all the people lined up sitting next to each other simply staring straight ahead, you get the feeling you must be in an asylum. My first day on the job was miserable and I instantly regretted my decision to quit my job and thought about calling my boss and seeing if my job was still available. Two weeks later, I felt more fulfilled than I ever had in my life.
What was missing in the lives of those people on the Alzheimer’s unit was social interaction. Without stimulation people suffering from Alzheimer’s disease simply wither away, and I quickly realized, with the assistance of a fellow entertainer (and my boss) Raphael De Ocampo that it was my job to provide this interaction. And so I got to work, and the results of this work are demonstrated by the stories that are provided here.
The people in these stories are all very real, and each of them touched me in ways that I cannot fully describe with words. Many of them have died since this book was written, but all of them will remain with me forever.
Anna
and the Bird
"Look
Anna, all your friends came for your birthday," a lady in a pink
suit encouraged her. Anna looked up for a moment and saw a group of
women with their eyes closed and shook her head. "Some
birthday," she said while looking at the cake on the table. She
saw the numbers 97 written in green icing and couldn't believe it.
She was 97 years old. She couldn't see very well, and the only time
she could hear very well was with her hearing aid which caused a
terrible buzzing in her head. She looked into the mirror and saw the
old lady looking back at her. "97" she said out loud, and
closed her eyes, hoping that sleep would come and take away her
thoughts for a while.
She woke up
in the television room and saw the bird in its cage and wheeled over
to talk to him.
"Hello"
she said, and the bird answered her back with a series of chirping
noises before flying to the back of his cage.
"I guess you don't like company, I don't either" she
explained to the bird.
"You
and I are both all alone, don't you see?" she asked the bird,
and again the bird answered her and she was happy that he understood
her. The lady in pink then returned and began wheeling her out, but
Anna placed her feet firmly on the ground and took one last look at
her friend. "I'll come back," she assured him, and then
gave in and returned to her room.
When
she returned the next day she saw two boys next to her friend who
were trying to make the bird talk.
"What
a crummy bird," one boy remarked, and the other laughed out
loud.
"Poke him with a stick maybe
that will make him talk," the other boy suggested.
Anna has seen enough and wheeled over to the boys and knocked the
stick out of their hands.
"He talks
just fine," she scolded them. "Don't you see he sometimes
doesn't feel like talking," she continued. "He's old and
he's tired and he doesn't always think straight, so give him a
break," she went on, now speaking very loudly.
And with that the boys went back to find their mother, embarrassed
and even a little ashamed that they had upset the old woman like
that.
"No one understands us
anymore," she said to her friend, who knowingly chirped back to
her. "We're the last of our bunch, you and I," she sighed
and the bird looked back at her with knowing eyes.
"People think we're crazy now, but we know better don't we?”
she said, and again the bird agreed and she closed her eyes and
drifted off to sleep.
Weeks went by and
she and the bird continued their afternoon discussions. One day while
coming to see him she saw a woman and a child taking the bird away
and she became very alarmed.
"Where
are you taking him?” Anna demanded.
"This is Paddy, and he belongs to my son," the woman
patiently explained. "He's been part of our family for years,
but we brought him here when we got a new dog, do you know Paddy?”
the woman asked.
"I think
you're mistaken young lady," Anna replied as she wheeled herself
over to the woman. "He belongs here now; you see he was no
longer useful in the outside world so they brought him here."
Anna said defiantly. "And now that he's here, I assure you he
intends to stay here."
The woman was take aback and thought long and hard about what the old
woman was saying. She had dumped the bird in the nursing
home when he became an imposition to the family, hadn't she? She
looked down at the old woman and saw the resolve in her eyes, and
came to a decision.
"You know
he does seem to like it here, so maybe it is better if he stays for a
while," and with that she put the birdcage down and ran swiftly
out to her car, thinking about the old woman and the bird, and what
would happen to her when she got to be that age. She hoped her son
would understand about the bird, and in her mind she rehearsed her
speech. Hoping that he would have sympathy for the old woman and
understand. Hoping that he would have sympathy for her when she was
an old woman and that he would remember how she had taken care of
him.
Harold and Maude Revisited
Romance in a nursing home can be a very sweet thing. The need for companionship and affection does not wane with age, and may in fact increase as people lose their ability to rationalize and more than ever feel a strong urge to hold on tight to another human being. That might have been the case with Francesca and Tom, had they not been nearly 50 years apart in age. You see Francesca was a patient in the home, while Tom was merely a young volunteer at the hospital
Francesca had never been an affectionate woman, and as a Serbian woman who had seen a great deal of war, there had also not been much time for laughter in her life. As the years passed, Francesca eventually left Serbia after her husband died, and she had come to America to work as a seamstress until her mind had started to wander. At first she simply forgot little things like turning the sewing machine off, but eventually her condition worsened and she had been admitted to the hospital when she started a fire in her kitchen and had nearly burned her house down. As a shy and rather private woman, she had very few friends in America, and during visiting hours she often found herself wishing she had been a little friendlier to people.
Tom on the other hand was outwardly a very friendly guy. He volunteered at the nursing home because he loved to talk and joke and share stories with the residents, and he often could be seen dancing and serenading the ladies in the home whenever he had some free time. But deep down Tom was a lonely guy as well, laughing on the outside but missing something on the inside that let him feel close to others.
When Tom first met Francesca he saw how lonely she was, and perhaps even saw a little of himself when he looked and saw the sadness in her eyes. Immediately he knew he wanted to cheer her up and make her happy. Francesca had been at first startled when this big, red young man had sprung up on her and begun belting out “Let me call you sweetheart” over a microphone. She remembered that song though, and she couldn’t help humming along as he sung, and soon she was lost in her memories.
She looked up again and the boy was on a new song now and this time he was on his knees and singing right to her. She felt her face turning red and thought about how this was the first time she had blushed since she was a little girl. She began chuckling and continued to enjoy the song and this unusual boy’s antics, and drifted off to sleep thinking of the fun she had had that afternoon.
The next time he came back Tom had found himself looking forward to seeing Francesca again, and had even practiced a couple of new songs for the occasion. The nurse had told him it was the first time she had seen Francesca truly smile since she had come to the home, and for the first time in a while he also felt the power of making a real human connection. When he got to her floor he saw her sitting and watching the door, and when her face lit up when she saw him it was now his turn to blush. He began his song, and this time when he got to “Let me call you sweetheart” he offered her his hand to begin dancing with him. She looked up at him and decided that she did indeed want to dance with this man. She placed her hands around his neck and they began dancing to the song, both enjoying the pleasure of the other’s company. When it ended, she became startled to realize she couldn’t remember the last time she had danced, but also proud of herself for giving it a try. Could she be changing, she wondered? At this late age? It was hard for her to think about though and again she nodded off, exhausted from the day’s activities and emotions.
Tom and Francesca continued their weekly dancing sessions, and the nurses had noticed a significant change in Francesca since these visits had begun. It was as if she was trying on a personality radically different than the one she had lived with most of her life, and despite her dementia and agitation, it was obvious she still had the ability to experience joy in her life. The nurse found herself wondering about the restorative power of love and how long it had been since someone had danced with her, but then dismissing these silly thoughts and returning to dispensing her medications.
Weeks went by, and Tom would come and sing to Francesca and, despite her health taking a turn for the worse, he continued to spend time with her although she was now no longer capable of dancing with him. The sadness would disappear from her eyes when he would come though, and, despite her responses getting considerably meeker, he knew his presence still meant a great deal to her. They had taken to watching movies together now, and, while watching an old movie featuring the song “Let me call you sweetheart,” she had slipped her hand into his and they had silently held hands for the rest of the movie. She was no longer good with her words, and taking his hand was her way of letting him know how much he meant to her. She looked up at him, and realized she had fallen in love in the 80th year of her life. She squeezed his hand and he looked over at her and smiled, two people, one at the end of life and one at the beginning, who improbably had each awakened something very powerful in the other one.
Zsa Zsa
“Jane, Jane! get over here right now, it’s time for your insulin,” a woman in a blue jumpsuit yelled impatiently. The woman was in fact a nurse from a neighboring facility helping out for the day, and had no idea she was in the presence of greatness. The woman continued to yell across the room until another nurse came over to clear up the problem.
“Try saying Zsa-Zsa, instead of Jane,” she recommended helpfully. And with that the nurse threw her hands up in the air, and wondered why she had agreed to work in the Alzheimer’s unit for the day.
“Zsa-Zsa, it’s time for your insulin!” and with that the woman in dark glasses turned and looked at the woman for the first time.
“Are you addressing me madam,” she sarcastically replied, appalled that someone would simply yell her name out and expect her to snap to attention like a dog. The woman was an American however, and she took this into account as she wheeled over to see what all the commotion was about.
“What could be so urgent,” she asked, as the woman grabbed her by the arm and began preparing her for an insulin shot. But she let it go this time, and thought about the exotic life she must have led that she was paying for now. She couldn’t at the time exactly remember the exotic details, but she knew who she was and that was enough. Jane had in fact been born in Hungary, and was by anyone’s account a great beauty in her own right. But Jane didn’t interest her anymore and now she had decided that she was in fact the great Zsa Zsa Gabor.
Following her insulin shot she began wheeling her way back to the television set, hoping to catch a glimpse of herself on TV so she could admire the woman she once had been. Before she had become Zsa Zsa, Jane had been a wife and a mother and had taken care of her family all of her life without ever worrying about herself. Now, at the age of 83 her mind had appeared to right this horrible injustice and she believed, with every fiber of her being, that she was in fact Zsa Zsa Gabor.
Her children, who came to visit often, were at first amused by their mother’s antics and then began to grow more concerned. She demanded they provide her with scarfs and wraps and jewelry and they had nearly cleaned out the costume jewelry shops trying to placate their mother’s demand that “diamonds are a girl’s best friend.”
You she Zsa Zsa had given up everything for her children, and they felt that they owed her at this late stage of her life. They knew they had often been selfish children, and even when their mother was working two jobs to support the family, they always demanded more from her and now it seemed they were getting their comeuppance.
Her daughter Karen was especially appreciative of her mother, and when the annual “King and Queen” contest in the nursing home began, she thought of a way she might pay her mother back. You see the nursing home had started a tradition a couple of years back where they announced a King and Queen every year from among the residents that was voted on by the staff, residents, as well as the family members of the people in the facility. The award was usually given to friendly and cooperative residents of the facility, and Karen new her mother had very little chance of being elected by those qualifications.
So slowly she began to hatch her plan, at first slipping an entire booklet of ballots into her purse which she then brought home and filled out with her mother’s name on it. Over the next few weeks she continued to stuff the ballot box until she was sure she had at least given her mother a good chance to win.
A couple of weeks later at the annual coronation, Karen had dressed her mother up in all of her favorites. She had on her oversized dark glasses, her scarf, a boa, and Karen had even bought her some flowers in the event that she won the contest. When the time came to announce the winner Karen was extremely nervous, and then, finally the announcement came,
“And our Queen this year is, Jane Krackow,” the MC announced over the loudspeaker. But Jane made no attempt to move and she looked around with the other residents wondering who this person was. Karen laughed to herself and went and whispered something to the MC who then chuckled to himself and began again.
“It seems there was a small error, the winner this year is Zsa, Zsa Gabor,” the announcer boomed over the microphone.
And with that Zsa Zsa took the stage. As the MC wheeled her around the room for a victory lap, she threw flowers at the audience, and blew kisses, and even stopped a couple of times and offered her hand for the men in the audience to kiss. When it came time for her to make her speech she took the microphone from the MC and told everyone how she really just had “so many people she wanted to thank.”
Karen looked up and her mother with a sense of great amusement and pride, happy her mother had found some joy in her life after so many years of sacrifice.
Music
has its Charms
“What
now?” Robert thought to himself as the nurse shook his
shoulder. “Why in the hell don’t they let me sleep,”
he wondered to himself. It wasn’t as if he had somewhere to be.
He knew he was a patient in a home, but beyond that he didn’t
know much anymore. He’d had a good life altogether, and now he
just wanted to sleep, but the tugging continued and finally he gave
in and sat up. He looked around the room and saw a man lying beside
him, snoring, and he wondered for a minute if he was back in the
Navy. He looked in the mirror and saw the white hair and decided that
probably wasn’t it. A nurse with a very high pitched voice
reminded him, “Time to get up now Robert,” and he wearily
pushed his arm into the sweater they had picked out for him.
At the breakfast table, the one with the squeaky voice was still
hovering over him and he wished she would give him a little space.
“Say hello to your friends Robert,” the nurse suggested,
and he looked around and saw one lady asleep and two other men
staring straight ahead. “Are these really my friends,” he
thought to himself. He said hello politely and began to eat his
breakfast, deciding that they must not be that great of friends if he
couldn’t remember a thing about them.
He woke up to a
radio playing, and it was a familiar tune. “Baby face, you’ve
got the cutest little baby face,” the song went along. And then
he remembered. He closed his eyes and saw her fiery red hair and
remembered how it took him a half-hour and three glasses of beer to
go up and talk to her. “There’s not another one who’ll
take your place, baby-face,” the song continued, and indeed for
him no one ever had. They got married as soon as he got back from the
war, and those first years together were the happiest memories of his
life.
Robert woke up, looked around and
again wondered where he was. It seemed later now, and then, without
warning a balloon hit him in the head. “Pay attention Robert!”
a lady he had never seen before commanded. He looked up and there
were people sitting in a circle tossing a balloon. He reared back and
smacked the ball all the way to the other side of the room, “Bingo!”
he yelled, thinking this might keep them off his back for a while.
Then he heard the radio again. “You must remember this, a kiss
is still a kiss, a sigh is just a sigh,” the song went along.
And once again his mind wandered back. He remembered the song from
the movie Casablanca, and how it reminded him of his wife. It was the
first movie they had ever seen together, and it should be a happy
memory, but indeed it was not.
Robert’s wife had been
killed in a car accident 8 years after they were married. They had
three young daughters together, and without her he was lost. But he
was a father, and he had to put on a brave face for his kids. He knew
next to nothing about little girls, but they learned together as the
years slipped away, and slowly, slowly after many, many years, the
void in his heart left by his wife had begun to heal itself. “It’s
still the same old story, a fight for love and glory,” the song
continued. Every time he heard that song he could remember her red
hair like it was yesterday. When he looked up a nurse was wiping a
tear from his eye, and consoling him. He joined the balloon game they
were playing to avoid making a scene, and soon he was back asleep
again.
When he woke up again something
had changed. He looked around his room, and saw a familiar face
sleeping next to him “I wonder how long the good lord is going
to let me lay around like this,” he said to no one in
particular, and then he heard the familiar high voice and he began
the morning routine once again. He seemed to be grasping things
better today, and he said hello to a few people he knew. There was a
spelling bee in the morning which he enjoyed, and he even managed to
win a bag of chips in one of the bingo games. But now he was tired,
and began wheeling towards his room. “Not until after dinner
Robert,” a nurse reminded him, and he decided that he better
just go along.
He put his head down on
the table, when he heard the radio again. “When your heart’s
on fire, you must realize, smoke gets in your eyes,” and he
immediately remembered where he knew this one from. It was his
daughter’s wedding song, and when he cut in to dance with her
she looked so much like her mother he couldn’t help but feel
incredible joy, sadness, and pride, all at once. His daughter had
married a wonderful man, and he finally felt a little of the pressure
lift from raising three young girls alone. They had done it, his
family had made it, despite his thinking a million times they might
not. He begun to sing out loud and eventually he got lost in his
memories. Thankful for the radio that seemed so connected to the
treasures of memory he wanted and needed to hold on to in his life
Stardust
Memories
Thomas heard a noise and wheeled himself over
to the dining room to take a closer look. He heard a group of them
singing the song “The old folks at home,” and then a man
began to read. “Stephen Foster wrote this song about how no
matter how far we travel or what sadness the world imposes on us, all
our hearts ache for the best memories of childhood, the security of a
family and parents, and the familiarity of a home.”
Thomas was very moved by these words but trying hard not to show it.
That statement described exactly how he felt, and he often found
himself springing up in bed in the middle of the night and calling
for his mother and father. Most of the time he knew they weren’t
around anymore, but it was just that he didn’t always feel
safe. Something had happened to his mind but he didn’t know
what it was and it often frightened him. He remembered his mother so
vividly in the dress she wore around the house and how she used to
make cookies for him after school sometimes. He shook off these
thoughts and tried to stay in the present, he was a physician after
all, and he had raised a family of his own, hadn’t he? He
couldn’t exactly remember, but he did remember his brothers and
sisters, and again he closed his eyes and drifted back.
This time he saw his older brother running though a marsh with his
fishing pole and how he was doing his best to keep up with him. They
had spent the day at the pond swapping stories and catching fish and
it had been one of the happiest days of his life. Later coming back
to their home he remembered how his brother had told his father how
well he had done and how great he had felt that day.
He snapped back to the present and he heard them singing another song
and he couldn’t believe they would interrupt him like
this.
“You wandered down the lane
and far away, leaving me a song that would not die,” they went
on, and then the man began to read again.
“Hoagie Carmichael wrote the song “Stardust” about
the pang of nostalgia he felt upon visiting his old college campus
and seeing the old spots where couples used to go to steal those
precious moments alone.”
And again he was amazed at how moved he was by this comment. He too
got nostalgic thinking about those old college days and yet just now
he couldn’t remember them. He closed his eyes tightly and tried
to remember but again he was back in his childhood and saw her
sitting across the room, Katie Callahan, his first love, and he
remembered her so vividly he could truly see her. She had been the
prettiest girl in the class and when she chose to sit with him at
lunch that day he thought he was the luckiest guy on the face of the
earth. He hadn’t thought about her in years, and now he
couldn’t get her out of his head. What was going on with his
mind, he wondered? But it was no matter; it had been a very
pleasurable afternoon and one he hoped he wouldn’t forget. That
night when he called for his parents in bed the nurse came and held
his hand and he felt better. He knew the memories would come back
sooner or later, and when they did he would be happy again. He
drifted back to sleep, dreaming of his youth and the wonderful times
he had had as a child.