A day amongst the forgotten....

I was blessed the other night to witness a session of pet therapy. No, not the kind you take your hurt pet to. This is the kind you take your pet, to those that are hurting. I am in the process of making my dog Stanley "pet therapy ready" so I can do these visits myself. This night though, I was just an observer.
As I walked in this assisted living home my nose was blasted with what I describe as the smell of hopelessness. The lighting was all wrong for a place like this, the carpet old and antiquated. I felt as though I had to blink a few times to get my eyes to focus because of the strange light. From the front desk the halls spider-ed leading to the bedrooms. I could see numerous nurse staff walking around, plenty it seemed that those that needed some extra care and attention could have it. Amongst them were the residents. It almost looked like two episodes of the same TV show were playing, one with the residents, and one with the staff. They were all walking the same hallways, but they weren't interacting with each other. They would just float past each other. It was strange really, I wasn't expecting that. In a rehab facility maybe, the patients were never there very long - but here, these people were living here full time. Full time! The residents here had no other family to surround them, so they were left to the mercy of the staff, for better or worse.
We started our rounds, down one hallway after the next. I would look at the plaques on the doors where there name was taped on. Taped on as if mocking them in their face that no one was fooled by one calling this their "home." Everyone knew it was temporary. Everyone would leave, one way or another. By their names was either a paw print or not. That is how we knew if they were "pet friendly." I remember thinking what a weird way to think of another human being. Hotels were pet friendly, parks were pet friendly....not another human being. When we were sure they would even want the option to visit with our dog, we popped our heads in asking if they wanted to visit with our dog tonight.
The rooms were mediocre, at best. I say that because if I were wanting to stay in them for a few nights, like a motel, that would be fine. But these people live here. This is there HOME. Most were the size of a small master bedroom, with no separate bathroom. The bathroom was a part of the room. The lighting was that same yellow/dim light that makes your eyes hurt. What caught my eye the most, were the walls. The walls were covered in what I could only guess were what they loved most. Pictures of their loved ones, paintings, a cross-stitched cat in a flower vase probably done by a granddaughter. I loved looking at it all, seeing what makes them happy. The saucy older ladies would have pictures of themselves 50 years ago, in their "prime", out on the town. The feisty older men would have framed metals from the war or pictures of their young brides. I smiled as I saw each one, warming my heart for the person we were about to visit.
The residents that were "pet-friendly" weren't always "people-friendly." It was amazing to watch them look at you with such vacancy, and then your pup lays his head in their lap and they come alive. The conversation starts to flow between them, only sometimes verbally. I found myself wishing I could be a part of that friendship, knowing how to communicate on such a non-threatening level. The joy that came across there face was almost painful. Painful in a way that behind their eyes was a truth that this particular visitor, the dog, was the most love they would feel come this time in their lives. It was brutally honest, and beautiful all in one.
Leaving that night I was so mixed with emotion. Love, hate, sadness, embarrassment. Mostly love, but tailed tightly by embarrassment. How could we, as a society, forget these people. How could their loved ones put them here and just forget about them. I know that there are always exceptions to what I seem to be generalizing. There are those families that had no other choice, that age or debilitating disease has made the choice for them, and they just can't take care of that person any more. There are those that love that person so much, and come to visit them daily, bringing them food and doing their laundry. I applaud those people, they are carving their place in heaven. To those that are not the exception though - shame on you.
These older souls are ones that should be cherished, loved and certainly learned from. I left that night with a new drive to do what I can for those that can't do it for themselves, to have more patience with the little old lady driving in front of me with the gray hair that can barely see over the dashboard, to look under the unforgiving wrinkles and relentless loss of age - to learn. I will learn whatever they grace me with durning these visits. And when I am not open enough for them, I pray that my dog might give them the love and peace they are searching for, and more than deserve.