When Unexpected Support Brings Joy to Caregivers

I hate my walker.

When I had my first hip replacement five years ago, I was able to leave my walker behind after about six weeks and use only my cane. But time and arthritis creeping into other parts of my body made it different this time. At five months in, I am still using the walker for longer jaunts.

I hate it. 

Last week, I trudged around my neighbourhood with my walker when a woman stopped me. “I’ve been watching you all winter, walking in all kinds of weather. I just wanted you to know I’m proud of you.” I don’t know her, but you can believe I walked a little faster and lighter after that. This week, a lady walked by me and then turned back and said, “Good job.” and walked on. Several minutes later, a couple stopped me and encouraged me, even to praying for me before they walked on. 

I thought, “I still hate my walker, but I love my community.”

Sometimes, support comes in unexpected forms, and when it does, the blessing is tremendous.

Men in long term care have it rough. Because their numbers are smaller, most of the activities are geared to women. Those running the activities scramble to find something that works. 

Mitch was a quiet, dignified man who spent most of each day in his wheelchair in his room. His wife would wheel him out to the garden, but he had no interest in tea parties and bingo. I visited him one day and discovered a basket full of train magazines by his chair. I asked him about them, and his face lit up. Trains were his passion since a little boy.

Hmmmm. I knew someone who loved trains and had a set-up in his basement. I wondered if I could get him to come visit so they could talk trains for a while.

It turned out better than that. My friend belonged to a train club which had a set-up of model trains which they took to malls and exhibitions. They brought a part of it to our home, and my friend gave a talk. Mitch sat in the front row, enthralled. He asked questions and shared his passion with an animation we hadn’t seen for weeks. His wife stood in the back, dabbing at her tears. She felt supported in a wonderful and unexpected way.

This next story is expressed best in a letter sent to the hairdresser at our home.

My wife and I came in for haircuts shortly before Christmas of last year.  My wife was suffering from dementia, and you treated her as if you’d been working with dementia patients all your life. You let us sit next to each other, and when it came time for her cut, you turned her chair toward me so I could watch her expression as you cut her hair.

It turned out even better than I thought it would.

Sadly, she died in March, and that haircut was one of the last, best moments of her life. She felt so pretty. She visited the mirror in her bathroom several times during the day and would come out beaming.

To see her happy was priceless.

Looking back, it was likely one of dozens of haircuts you gave that day. But it revitalized a woman’s sense of self and her singular beauty. I hope you always realize the power of your profession.

It’s so easy to take things like that for granted.

A word of encouragement, the opportunity to share a passion, and a haircut. Small acts which change lives and provide support in huge ways.

So here’s my question: in what unexpected way can you provide support?