The Angels that Come when Most Needed
Guest article by Judy Fox
I have grown to be a caregiver during the last four-plus years. It began while I was visiting my mom for ten days. She was getting weaker and weaker. I took her to the hospital. She had a restricted aortic valve. Before this, she was living on her own– shopping, cooking, driving, and playing bridge–at the age of ninety-three. That changed very quickly and I was plunged, as I never had been before, into the world of hospitals, doctors, nurses, medications and endless research on treatments.
Most of us cannot prepare for events that happen seemingly out of the blue. We know that as our loved ones age (and so do we) that health generally deteriorates at some point. Still, we never know when something is going to happen or what it will be. That is just the nature of life.
Since then at every traumatic moment, from pacemaker to massive stroke to aortic valve replacement via catheter, there have been the difficult experiences with members of the caring professions. Yet, what I most remember are those doctors, nurses, nurse’s aides, and therapists who extended their humanity and care when my mother most needed it. I can’t remember their names, but I do remember how they behaved, and how grateful I felt.
What I valued most was how, through their tone of voice, touch, and sincere engagement, they were able to make simple human contact that meant so much. They treated my mom with respect and empathy while being acutely aware of her, her needs, and by drawing on their knowledge to help.
In every one of my mom’s predicaments, we’ve been fortunate to have at least one person who fit this category and some who really stood out in an exceptional way. I think of them as angels. They come in any shape, color, ethnic background, or gender. They are identified instantly by their simple regard for other human beings and for their care for what they are doing.
One young man was working in the emergency room when my mom was admitted. Just the way he spoke to my mother, told her about his life, and took blood from her arm, left an impression upon her. She kept talking about him. He not only spoke to her as one human being to another, but he also was good at what he did. When you are older with skin thin and veins slippery, it can be quite hard to take blood. It requires skill, patience, and a delicate hand. For a sick person who is often frightened and not at her best, having such a caring person has an effect
Then there was the Haitian nurse in the critical care unit…again, she was immediately recognized by her warmth, humor, and persistent hands-on care. She formed a relationship with my mom right away. It was as if she engulfed my mother with warmth and a sense she was totally there for her. I could finally breathe easier.
There was also the head of the rehabilitation hospital, an Irish doctor and osteopath, who had immediate rapport with my mom. He spoke to her, not through the lens of seeing her as a 97-year old post-stroke woman who probably had dementia (which she doesn’t), but with openness and respect. He spent time with her–spoke directly to her in a way that was totally natural. He also told me he had particular empathy for stroke victims.
I could go on and on about the angels who came when most needed. In many ways they are how you would expect a caregiver to be. As a sick person, one is so vulnerable, scared, and out of control. That hand of comfort, expertise, and ease is so appreciated. These angels are often forgotten by the patients as they can come and go in and out of their lives quickly. Nonetheless, by giving in such a natural unpretentious way, they exemplify the best in human beings. They raise our spirits in times of dire need; they really care and that makes all the difference!
Judy Fox is an artist. For the past year and a half, she has been living with her 97-year old mother after she had a stroke. She started a blog site with a good friend called “When the Table Turns” [TCV Update 6/9/2020: Website URL can no longer be found] where she writes heartfelt philosophical essays on the care and love for her elderly mom. It’s an ongoing journey that has opened her heart and to which she is very grateful.
(Edited by The Caregiver’s Voice)
Thank you, Judy, for that inspiring article, “The Angels that Come When Most Needed.” As a long-time caregiver, both professionally and personally, I am heartened to hear such wonderfully warm words of praise for the direct care staff who give so much of themselves as part of their daily work. At times, I’ve had the privilege of being that very angel, and the connections I’ve made have truly changed my life. Other times, I’ve stood on the sidelines and watched with the utmost respect as other compassionate caregivers have earned their wings. I am so proud to be a caregiver, and grateful to hear stories like yours.
Thank you Lynette for taking time to inspire fellow caregivers with your comment as well.
I can certainly relate to this story. My life was turned upside down with Lewy Body Dementia 5 years ago. Parkinson’s started it 9 years ago and then the diagnosis changed to LBD 5 years ago. I have had to watch the effects the different medications have and work with the doctors for changes. 3 years ago an Angel was sent to us from the Veterans administration after fighting for years for benefits. Juanita was sent to us from Home Instead Senior care. There are not many from that agency that are as caring, loving and passionate as Juanita. She has been by my side living through the changes to my loved one while she herself was battling kidney rejections. While the doctors in the ER the one time seemed like she really didn’t care we did meet a man who talked to Marie like he was her brother. Very caring. Lifted her from the wheel chair into the Van.
How fortunate you are to have Juanita who cares for Marie as if she’s family.
No wonder Juanita was The Caregiver’s Voice Caregiver of the Month.
Thank you Don for sharing that story about yourself and Juanita. It is such a blessing when someone really cares…immeasurable benefits. Very warmly, Judy Fox