One Day at a Time

On Thursday afternoon, a couple in their mid 80s were walking through the Hope Lodge to their car to go to her radiation treatments. It was their first day. She is in frail health and does not have the strength to do much. She walks with a walker. The husband must not have thought about the distance from their room to the car. It is a long way.

I didn't know any of this yet...

I was texting a friend, walking down the hall to the lobby. I heard the director say to the husband, "GET A CHAIR!" while holding this now limp woman up...all her strength was gone. He was holding her under her armpits while the husband was looking and not finding a chair. I ran to a rocking chair and slid it right behind her. The director and I helped sit her down. I had not met her yet or even seen her face. When she sat down and I looked at her, I was really surprised. She had very thin, transparent skin. Her eyes were glassy and were staring off into space as though she was not seeing anything. Her legs were so weak from walking that they were shaking. My inner thought was that she looked near death. I talked to her for a second and told her to relax and rest. She did not respond to me.

The husband kept telling us that she was fine. Over and over.

He had parked the car just outside of the doors and about 15 feet out. Long story short, the three of us worked with doors, the walker, the car door, the curb, the dead weight and her legs just dangling while we tried to get her propelled forward, sideways, bent in half to get into the car, and then swiveled to face forward. I had to go in through the drivers side and pull her backside onto the seat without allowing her to just fall. As soon as she was seated, I softly told her that she was done working so hard and she could rest. Once again, no response.

I went in and found where I dropped my phone. I was finishing my text when the director came back in. He was wet from sweat from this event. He thanked me quietly and gave me a little hug. I could tell he was shook up. He had told the husband to borrow a wheelchair from the hospital before returning. Then he said he was going to follow them over to make sure they got to her treatment.

I was trying to imagine how in the world they were going to get her out of the car, into a wheelchair, then on to the table for radiation, back into the wheelchair, back into the car and then out of the car and into their room and onto the bed, all without much help from the patient. And then repeat daily for the next 7 weeks, plus many daily trips to the bathroom and dining room. Just one trip from room to car was exhausting.

As a person, I was glad to help. I was in the right place at the right time and could be of assistance. But as a mom of a cancer patient, it scared me. I don't like looking ahead too much. I don't want to think of Justin or me or other family members going through this. I told one of the other caregivers, "this is a place no one wants to visit before they move here."

My mom reminded me that is why we try to live "one day at a time". It is not good to worry over something you have no control over. So true.

I have been wondering if this dear lady will still be living when we return tomorrow. And thanking God for the strength that Justin has, physically and spiritually.