[BobbyB]

Indomitable spirit offers lesson to us all

Updated: 05/14/08 6:36 AM


James Costa,
Few things strike more fear into a senior citizen’s heart than the words “nursing home.” Hearing them evokes images of swaddled bodies in wheelchairs; of isolation and impersonal aides; of diapers and pungent odors. To many, a nursing home means the end of a useful life and, worse, abandonment by family and friends.

But a nursing home is and can be more than that. There are those temporarily in for rehabilitation after surgery or suffering a stroke. These people are least affected because they know their stay will be short and they will be rejoining their families at home.

There are also permanent residents who have supportive families that visit frequently. These people are generally well-adjusted because they know they are being watched over and tended to in every way. Frequently they are taken home with family on holidays and weekends. Despite their infirmities,

they are most likely to participate in the many activities provided, such as card playing, readings, sing-alongs and bingo.

Saddest, of course, are the permanent residents who either have no family, or family members who have no time for them. These forgotten ones are those slumped in wheelchairs lining the corridors who look up expectantly when you approach, then drop their heads dejectedly when you pass.

These are the same people whose pictures decorate the walls of their rooms, pictures of smiling, youthful faces in happier times. Despair eventually drains their souls of hope. As months turn into years, despondency dissolves the will to live and they sleep away their last days.

Up until half a dozen years ago, I harbored the familiar dark vision of a nursing home: God forbid I should end up in such an institution, I thought. Better to be dead!

That was until I chanced upon Joan Schuster, a lovely woman of 50 who had been a Gowanda Nursing Home resident for 20 years. Afflicted since age 20 with Lou Gehrig’s disease, a wasting disease that paralyzes the body but does not affect the mind, Joan was fast approaching the final stages of her illness.

Unlike many other residents who were inactive, Joan spent her time writing articles for the Springville newspaper. With a pencil between her teeth, she spent grueling hours poking out words on her computer keyboard. Soon after we met, we began a collaborative effort to write her biography, which we did, naming it “In the Garden of Gethsemane.”

Joan passed away in 2003, but left a legacy all of us can learn from. Despite an inability to walk, lift her arms or, finally, even to talk, she persevered through untold grief and hardships. She often said it’s not what life has taken from you that counts, but what you still have left. It was that indomitable spirit that helped her through her bleakest days.

Most of us are so busy with our lives we often forget those who are forever removed from our everyday world. We rationalize that they are well taken care of and don’t really need us. Without family support and love, however, loneliness creates a sense of isolation that hastens mental and physical deterioration and undermines the will to live.

Those following Joan’s example will find that life offers endless opportunities, if they but seek and pursue them. Despite the best care in the world, nothing is more important to all of the residents than having frequent visitors for emotional support. It can literally make the difference between life and death.

http://www.buffalonews.com/149/story/346326.html