Henry and Theresa


Twelve years after

My sister Diane just called, asking to join Mom and me in a shopping expedition this afternoon. No problem, and its good she called. I'd forgotten I'd promised Mom yesterday that we'd go for groceries today.

Part-way through our conversation Diane mentioned that Henry had recently died and that she was planning on dropping by to see his widow.

A few years ago Diane became a volunteer with the local hospice association, visiting and helping out terminally ill people and their families. For months every Friday she sat at Henry's bedside. He'd had a stroke during heart surgery twelve years ago and was unable to do much of anything. He couldn't talk, walk or use his hands. He was alive and aware though. If he didn't like whatever food Diane tried to spoon feed him he'd just spit it right back at her. If she got tired of talking he'd growl at her. If he was bored he'd pretend to fall asleep. Eventually Diane had scheduling conflicts so another volunteer came to see Henry and she took on other clients.

Theresa, Henry's wife for 60 years, is one of Diane's heros. Theresa came to see Henry every day. She supervised his care like a hawk. He never had a bedsore. In her mid-sixties she learned how to drive because the bus just took too long to get to the hospital.

Meeting Henry and Theresa, Diane says, has been one of the most rewarding experiences of her life.

I'd better get going. Mom's waiting.

Posted: Tue - April 26, 2005 at 11:58 AM          

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