“Often we hate in others the thing which we fear in ourselves, or we hate because the other person raises to our consciousness some fault or inadequacy which we would prefer to have remain unconscious, and therefore without power to disturb our self-complacency.” Frances Wickers
Timothy was a young adult male in his early thirties. Timothy had special needs and was now living in a nursing facility. He had a mental capacity of a young boy, was confined to a wheelchair for most of his life. When he was around 10 years old, his family decided to place him into state care because they were unable to care for him. A woman in her late forties, took Timothy in and became his foster mother. As the foster mother started to age and Timothy became too much for her to take care of, she and the state workers decided to place him in a nursing facility when Timothy was in his late twenties. The foster mother came to visit him in the nursing facility almost everyday. In the meantime since the day Timothy went into state care his family has not visited him or asked the state where he was.
As a hospice nurse I used to go to this nursing facility to visit many of our hospice patients who resided there. I used to see Timothy racing in his wheelchair up and down the halls with another resident, they were laughing and carrying on, as the nurses kept telling them to slow down.
As I walked into the facility that bright spring day, I was thinking about Timothy and the way he used to race down these halls. Timothy was just admitted to our hospice service the day before. I was told that he was nonresponsive and his family was there in the room with him. The nursing facility had taken a double room and made it into a private room. Timothy’s bed was by the window and by the door chairs were set up for a sitting area for visitors.
I walked up to the doorway of his room, and I heard all this complaining and carrying on. I had no idea what was going on. I walked into the room and there were about 10 people in the sitting area talking and complaining, to each other or they were talking and complaining on their cell phones. No one was even standing by Timothy, they were not even holding his hand or talking to him. They were all complaining about this woman who was Timothy’s foster mother and how they did not even know he was in a nursing facility.
I stood there surrounded by all this complaining about a woman who Timothy loved. It was heartbreaking for me to see, because Timothy had not seen his family in over twenty years and not one of them was even talking to him. I thought all he could hear was all this complaining. Even though his eyes may have been shut and he may have look like they can’t respond, a person can hear, feel touch and they have this knowingness. I really have to say I was so angry inside. My narrator the voice inside me, was off and running.
My narrator was saying ” why didn’t they know where he was?”. ” they have not seen him in twenty years and they are complaining about someone who loves and cares for him.” I just became angrier and my heart was pounding. At this point Timothy’s father walked up to me and introduced himself. He started to tell me how this lady never told them that Timothy was in a nursing facility. I explain to him that we could talk about this later, that I needed to check on Timothy.
I stood by Timothy’s bed with a full view of the family. I thought maybe if I talk to Timothy and touch him they would learn to do the same thing. I reached down and touched Timothy’s arm and started to talk to him. They did not even look over; they just continued on their cell phones and complaining to each other. The only one in the room that was quiet was his Dad who sat quietly in the chair on the other side of the room
My narrator, this voice inside me, was running at full force. It starts telling me that these people are from a bad part of town and how I needed to just do the assessment on Timothy and get out of there. But I really wanted to talk to them to explain to them that Timothy would love to hear stories of his life when he lived with them and I wanted to show them how they can touch him, hold him. I felt that he was happy to see them and would love to have them by his bedside. My narrator kept saying “no don’t do that they will hurt you, they will slash your tires.” They were becoming very scary people to my narrator, and I was emotional and physically reacting to my narrator inside my head.
I reached down in my nursing bag and pulled out my stethoscope I was becoming angry again, they just would not stop. My narrator was screaming by now, telling me to just get out of there, don’t say a word to them. At the same time my heart was breaking for Timothy. I talked to Timothy throughout my examination. I started to calm down, my genuine love for him was filling my heart. My narrator was still saying to hurry up and leave, this is too much to hear and deal with, their dangerous people get out!
I took Timothy’s hand in mine, and told him how happy I was for him that his family was there. Just at that moment a present or a shift in me came and without thinking or hearing anything. I looked up and said to the group. “I need to talk to you, please hang up your cell phones.” I walked over to the middle of the room, while each and everyone of them stopped talking to each other or they started to hang up their cell phones, they just stopped and listened.
I would love to say that I was shocked or surprised that this family was listening to me, but I wasn’t, I was in a state of peace, my narrator even became quiet, my sense of fear was diminished and I felt a sense of knowingness. I spoke to the group with this sense of knowing, I spoke to them about how happy Timothy was to see them again, how he would love for them to come to his bed and talk to him, how he was hearing every word they spoke. Even though they are upset over what they think the foster mother did, Timothy loved her. And that it would be best when they are upset about anything, to please leave the room and walk outside to talk about it. I told them to stop talking on cell phones while in the room.. I asked some family members, if any of them would like to help to remind the family to go outside when they feel upset, just to keep the room positive. I spoke of many things in that moment to them, but to tell the truth I could not remember the many things that I said to them. I felt like someone was speaking through me another part of me or maybe a part of Timothy’s own consciousness..
When I was done talking, they all said Thank you we needed that. Timothy’s father looked up at me and said “you must be religious”. I looked at him and smiled. I said “I’m not religious but spiritual.” He said I felt like the spirit was speaking through you. I wanted to ask him what I had said. I only remember to this day the message that I shared with you. I stood there right in front of the father and I could not recall all that I had said.
As the family gathered around me as I left, I felt like Timothy was left in good hands. I told the family I would be back in the late afternoon to check on Timothy and the family.
I came back late in the afternoon to check in on Timothy and his family, to see how everything was going. As I pulled up into the parking lot I saw some of Timothy’s family outside talking together, that was a hopeful sign that they were taking it outside. I walked into the facility, as I walked up the hall to Timothy’s room, I came across one of Timothy’s cousins. He looked happy, he said to me “I have been able to keep the room positive, when someone starts to get upset, I ask them to go outside, it just a reminder to them.” I was elated with this news, it was a good sign for Timothy. He may be able to bond with his family again.
When I walked into the room, there were about five people sitting in the chair on the other side of the room. By Timothy’s bed sat his father. He was not touching or talking to him, he just sat there by his bed. I walked up to the father and touched his shoulder and asked, “how are you doing?” He told me that he was ok, he began to express to me his feeling of how he has not seen his son in so long and that he does not know how to talk to him, or how to even hold his hand. He just seemed lost in his mind.
I told him “When the time was right, he would know what to do and how to do it. Just by his presents in the room and being by his bedside is a big step in getting to know your son again”. I had this feeling that even the other members of the family were unable to still get close to Timothy. But I hoped in time they would feel comfortable to talk to him.
Timothy’s aunt came by the bed and started to talk to me. She was telling me about Timothy in his younger years. It was her way of letting him hear her, for him to know she was there with him. I left that night feeling hopeful that his family would be able to bond with Timothy before he left this world.
I came back to the facility the following morning. As I walked into a quiet room. I saw Timothy’s Aunt sitting in one of the chairs across the room, she was the only one in the sitting area, the rest of the family had gone home. I looked at Timothy and there I saw his Dad, sitting in the chair right next to the bed holding his hand. I walked over to Timothy bed and put my hand on his Dad’s shoulder I smiled at him and said “ looks like you are bonding.” He looked at me and said “I started by holding his hand last evening, then I talked to him, the next thing I knew I was in bed with him and I was holding him, and I held him in my arms all night.” as he said these words, there were many tears in his eyes, as were in my eyes.
Timothy stayed with them for another couple of weeks, most of the family had left and gone on with their daily lives, but Timothy’s Dad and Aunt came every day and sat and talked to him and even crawled into bed with him and held him. Timothy was able to meet his family again, to hear them, to feel their arms around him before he decided that it was time to go home.
This could have turned out differently, if on that first meeting, I continued to listen to the narrator and continued to react emotionally to it. I was projecting my own hidden beliefs and blaming it on someone else. I could have just left and the family would not have had the moments together and learn how they could help Timothy and their own need to come together again with him. They had a choice to listen or not and they chose to listen. They chose to do their part in giving Timothy his family back in a peaceful and positive way. The family members could have chosen to still project their guilt onto the foster mom and I am sure many of them still did, but they chose to take it outside the room. Timothy’s Dad and Aunt choose to let it go, maybe they process it and came to terms with it during their times together or maybe when they held him in their arms. Or the love they felt for him was more important than their anger.
“We do not heal the past by dwelling there, we heal the pasts by living fully in the present.” Marianne Williamson
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