Toward the end of his life, when the dementia was playing out dramatically, Dad was hospitalized for cardiac problems. Like many caregivers, I spent long days at the hospital. The head nurse was named Jean, and she was one of the inspired ones. At least once during her busy shift every day, Jean would come in to Dad’s room and stand by the chair where I was sitting much the way a wet rag sits, and she just stood there. She said nothing; she did nothing. She simply stood next to me, watching Dad with me, for a few minutes. It was strengthening, calming, affirming. Without speaking a single word, she told me I was not invisible, that I was not disposable, that I was not insignificant.
Sometimes presence is everything. Talk is not necessary. Acknowledgment is. A silent presence can be the most eloquent acknowledgment of the exhaustion of the caregiver by requiring nothing of her. Not even words.
--Maureen O'Hern
Check back tomorrow for The Art of Helping #2: Discerning Want and Need
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2 comments:
Sometimes the most obvious things are just not, well...obvious! This is such a great observation, and I'm thankful it was shared so beautifully. I look forward to the next in this series.
Thanks, Jill. It's true how so often it's the obvious which we need a reminder to remember!
Hope you enjoy the rest of the series.
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