Empathy

As a busy parent of 'many' children, I am usually out of the house a lot. It was the third round of trips to the emergency room for me in the last 5 weeks, but this time we were sent to the old hospital at the other end of town. Johnny was upset last night with a tummy ache, and arriving at the emergency room it was discovered that he had appendicitis. After an extremely long night, I was enjoying a lovely hot cup of coffee in the waiting room of the children's ward while Johnny slept.

An elderly woman in a ragged old blue dress had wandered in and out since early morning, looking like she was lacking sleep, and she had been visibly upset every time I saw her. She entered the room again and I asked her if she was feeling OK. She nodded; then sat down with a magazine. After 15 minutes, the woman got up and left the room once more. Perhaps she had a sick relative who was in surgery.

Johnny seemed to sleep for hours. I had checked in a couple of times to see if he was awake yet, but he was still out, and looked quite happy to stay that way. The nurse assured me that he was fine, and asked me if I wanted to go home to rest and that she would call me once he came around. I thanked her, but chose to stay and wait.

I wandered the hallways of the huge facility in an attempt to keep myself awake. As I walked back toward the waiting room with yet another cup of coffee in hand, I noticed the same old lady coming out of there, again looking as though she had been crying, and she disappeared down the hallway and around the corner.

Perhaps the old woman was in mourning. Maybe she had lost a loved one and found it hard to leave the last place they had been together before the person passed. I wondered if she was Italian; their religion requires that the widows be in mourning for several months. Thinking more about this, I arrived at the conclusion she was not Italian, because the widows always wear black garments during the mourning period. I had not seen her going in and out of any one specific room. Maybe she is mentally disturbed somehow. Maybe she is homeless. Nobody who has a healthy mind would hang out in a hospital for no particular reason. What a weird old woman.

The morning turned into early afternoon, and still Johnny had not woken up. It was just past noon, and I had called home to make sure there were no hassles getting the other children off to school. Thank heavens my husband was able to get a few days away from his job; our usual sitter would have cost me a fortune at that hour of the night!

A lady came by the waiting room and asked me if I wanted some yarn and a crotchet hook to pass the time. I thanked her, but refused the offer because I knew it would likely put me to sleep. The weird old lady was there again, sitting in the corner, just staring out the window with no expression on her face at all. She had had coffee this time, but when asked if she wanted a magazine or some candy she shook her head and once again left the room.

Right then, Johnny's nurse came to the room to let me know he had woken and was asking for me. As we walked down the hall toward his room, I mentioned the old woman who was obviously upset each time she came into the waiting room. Was she strange? Had she lost her way and needed help back to the geriatric center?

The nurse informed me that the woman's only son had passed away, and that she had been at that hospital every day since; she helped deliver meals, held the hands of small, frightened children until their parents arrived, and often helped out in the kitchen with cleanup duties. I felt myself blush the brightest shade of ruby red; I was so ashamed. I then commented how sweet it was for her to take the time out of her day to do such a thing. The nurse looked at me and said "yes, it has been 28 years since that little boy died, and she has not missed a week volunteering to sit with children ever since." Her son had been a sick for almost 3 years, and was a regular patient at the hospital, until he tragically lost his battle with brain cancer.

I felt so ashamed when I recalled how I had misjudged the old woman, and that I thought she must be just some strange old dame looking to get in out of the cold. She was dressed in very old clothes, and looked like she had little to her name. All the while she was helping someone else get through their own difficult time; offering cuddles and teddy bears until parents arrived. She was not mourning for her son after all these years, but she did occasionally find herself upset for feeling so helpless when a terminally ill patient gave her a warm smile and thanked her for her companionship.

I resolved never to judge anyone else again. It sickens me still, that I even had such thoughts about this beautiful person. I was absorbed with my own concerns, and my usual respect disappeared momentarily while I draw a very wrong conclusion about someone I knew absolutely nothing about. Before I left the hospital, I wrote a check and left it with the manager of the hospital coffee shop, for refreshments and food for the woman. I was certain that the hospital provided her meals but I felt it was the least I could do for her. I also desperately needed to ease my own guilt-ridden mind because I had behaved like a spoiled upstart. I would hate to offend her by offering something, and for her to feel too embarrassed to accept though, so this seemed like the best idea at the time. I swear, if I am ever a patient in that hospital, I hope that dear old sweety will grace me with her angelic presence too.

I saw a front page headline in our local newspaper several months later. The story accompanied a picture of that same old lady, and announced that she had recently passed away. I felt so sad for that darling old woman who appeared to have nothing but the company of those who were sick and dying. As I read on, the article stated that she had left her multi-million dollar fortune to the local hospital, and her home was being transformed into suites for the parents of children who needed to stay close to the hospital. I was so stunned I burst into tears!

The woman gave everything she had as a gesture of kindness to those who had cared for her baby. I will never forget that old woman, and it was only now that I had even learned her name.

God Bless you "Grandma" Janie.