"She" can be me.  "She" could be you.  "She" could be someone very close to you.  "She" may HAVE been someone ver close to you.  "She" may HAVE been you.  

But in this story, "She" is a sixty something year-old woman who for the first time in her life, suffered a life changing illness.  And her response to those caring for her.

_____________________________________________________________

In 2020, after having been in North Carolina only a few months, I was invited to work for a home health company for a short time - during the week I was intending to go to the beach.  Yay, me!  The place I was needed was AT the beach, and not only was I going to get paid, I'd have my hotel room paid for, AND I could bring the dogs!  

Initially I was going to work two nights and one day.  Not bad.  Then it turned into two days.  And no nights.  Then it turned into three days.  I will tell you that those days were tough, but the extra hotel days that were paid for made it all worth it.  It was a bit challenging for the dogs, but they were troopers.  I initially took their cages but after the first day we opted not to use them.  Instead, I asked the housekeeping crew to just let me clean the room, and they agreed.  Heck, with four dogs, I even vacuumed what I could.  All they had to do for me was keep the toiletries coming.  But I digress.  What does that even mean?  I'm still digressing.

The woman I was asked to care for had experienced a stroke nearly one year ago.  "She" had been in a rehabilitation facility this entire time.  Sadly just before she was to come home several months before, she contracted the Corona virus.  Hopefully most of those reading this story will say "Oh, yeah.  I've heard of that but I've never had it and don't know anyone who has."  This setback left her in 'rehab' for several more months.  

I was given the information that "She" was alert and oriented, and could do most of the work to get up and out of bed, I would be needed to help her get to her walker and to the bathroom.  "She" was very vibrant, very outgoing, and had a strong spirit to do most things for herself.  

Then all hell broke loose.  I'm sorry, but to a nurse, we know better.  That was the guise to get the woman home and out of the facility.  Which is where "She" wanted to be.  This was one of the toughest assignments I've had.  Physically and emotionally.  

"She" could not get up.  "She" could not sit up by herself.  "She" could not roll over so that I could change her diaper, and "She" was certainly NOT getting out of bed and onto a toilet, using a walker or otherwise.  Most times, "She" could feed herself, but sometimes she opted to suddenly not be able to.

I cannot put myself in this woman's shoes.  Nor could she put herself in ours.  She (not in quotations for now) had left her home almost one year ago, and prior to that day, she could walk and talk, drive and shop and enjoy time out with her friends.  She could also enjoy a happy hour drink or a night cap with her husband.  He was several years older than her, and had to create a life of his own for a year without her.  The Corona virus left patients and families unable to see each other in hospitals and rehab facilities, so he had almost essentially "moved on" and had no idea how he was going to provide the care his wife was now relying on others for.  He could not put himself in her shoes either.  There was going to be little improvement, and there was a need for nearly 24-hour a day care.  We found out one day that even a shower was dangerous and nearly impossible with only one person to help.  

Unsure if much of her "weakness" was mental or physical, those who were there to care for her now had to make decisions.  Even her daughter drove in from another part of the state to help, and to help her family make decisions.  

On the last day with the family, the caregiving agency, myself, the husband and daughter were having a conversation just outside of the bedroom where this unfortunate woman spent almost every minute of her life now.  It wasn't even her OWN room, but a spare room where 
"She" was put with the hospital bed and equipment that came home with her.  Why not her own bedroom?  "She" didn't even have access to her own bathroom, clothes, view of the beautiful yard, or her own - anything.  During the discussion, everyone tossed around ideas.  What can we do with her?  What can we do FOR her?  The subjective pronoun "she" was tossed around alot during the conversation.  "She can't even do THIS", "She can't even feed herself", "She is going to need so much more help", "She is choosing to behave like this", "She is making my life miserable like this!" were some of the comments made.  

After the discussion concluded, we all parted ways and went back to what we were doing previously.  I walked into her bedroom, and found this beautiful but hurt woman crying in her bed.  "What's wrong?", I asked.  "I guess my new name is SHE!  Just call me "She" from now on!"  She continue to explain that while the agency, her husband, her daughter and I were having a discussion about HER, we forgot that she was capable of understanding all that was being said, and she heard every word.  She was hurt because no one thought to include her in the planning of her care.  

This learning experience has stuck with me since.  While it's been just over a year, I've never forgotten Joyce.  Together we cried.  We laughed.  We told stories.  We tried, failed and tried again to get up, get into a shower, a recliner, a wheelchair.  Once I was able to get Joyce up and into a wheelchair, and we went outside until it began to rain.  She had not been outside in the entire time since her stroke.  The trip to her recliner was just that.  It was so difficult - physically AND emotionally for both of us. 

I won't bore you with the nursing and caregiver tasks (Did I mention I was hired only to be a CNA?), if you're a nurse you'll know.  If you're a caregiver, you'll know too.  If you're just reading because you love me, I'll spare you the gross details.  And the details regarding trying to convince the old man why the caregiver agency would send a nurse to do a caregiver's job.  What were we up to?  "Nothing," I would reiterate, over and over.  "Perhaps it's just because I was going to be in the right place at the right time."  I can cook breakfast, I can wash clothes, I can change diapers and even shower my patients.  One day we even listened to an audio book.  Joyce had "Alexa" to help, too!

On our last day together, the family brought dinner from the local Mexican restaurant, and after my shift was over, we celebrated some improvement with a glass of Joyce's favorite adult beverage!  

I'd known during my nursing experience with hospice patients that even those who are not "alert" or not "awake" or even mentally challenged for other reasons can still hear, and perhaps understand what is being said about them, so it's best to talk TO them.

I've learned so much from just that one statement "She" made, and vowed to always remember that the patient is ALWAYS made part of the discussion regarding their care, because the care is ALWAYS about them.