People Watching…at the VA Clinic
Yesterday I found myself once again sitting in a VA clinic waiting room. People came and went and with each there seemed to be a different story.
My heart was captured by a young man (probably in his forties) who was in for a wound care follow-up after the amputation of his leg. (The other one had been taken off last year) This guy smiled and spoke of hoping this check up would mean a release so that he could return to work. He is a full-time accountant for a car dealership and part-time chef. When he spoke of cooking, his eyes lit up, so I knew that was his passion. This man was well spoken, pleasant and uplifting in his stories. If he can be optimistic, we all should be optimistic.
There was a grumpy guy who was a Viet Nam vet and felt he had been mistreated by everyone. The world had stolen his youth and altered his life to a state of irreparable hopelessness. As I watched and listened to him, it hurt deeply. Viet Nam vets have my total attention. The Viet Nam War was the first time in my lifetime that many people did not respect our troops. As they returned from war, there were people in airports that actually spit on them. These young people did not plan the war, they did not call for war, they did not enjoy the war, these young guys left their families and girlfriends to fight a war because our country called on them to do so. For me, their mistreatment was unbearable.
When I was in high school, many of my friends, even my boyfriend and my oldest brother were shipped off to Viet Nam to fight a nasty war in a place most of us had hardly even known existed. I lost far too many friends to that war. Some were killed over there and two took their own lives after they returned. They had become unable to move past the horror. My brother still suffers from mental and physical scars that cling to him and changed him into another person. My boyfriend was killed by a hand grenade! He was an exceptionally kind person and his passing left a huge void. Though I was only 18 years old when this happened, it altered something inside of me for all the years that have followed. I still have a shoe box filled with his letters. These letters represent a part of him that I can still touch and hold. I still cry when I see them.
Now back to today and the VA waiting room. There was an elderly lady who walked slowly and quietly into the waiting room and took a seat. She looked crumpled; like her clothes had been wadded up for days. The clothes laid limp with little flesh to fill them out properly. She was so frail and thin it was painful to my eyes. She leaned at one point to the lady next to her and said something softly. I thought perhaps they were together but I soon discovered they were not. After about half an hour a woman hastily marched into the waiting room as she shouted, “Why didn’t you stay where I left you!” “Why, Why, Why don’t you listen!” Her words were directed at this frail old lady and she sat there looking up like a small child who was being scolded. This woman then grabbed the arm of the old lady, jerked her up and shouted, “come on!” I could hear the faint voice of the old lady softly saying, “I didn’t know” as she stepped into the hallway. I tried to give the younger lady the benefit of doubt, as I told myself, perhaps she is just worn down to her last nerve ending; perhaps she has so many things dragging her down in addition to the care of this lady (who I believe was her mother). Then I thought if she treats her this way in public, is it even worse at home? I find my mind going back to them and hoping her weary heart begins to soften.
Caring for the elderly, the dementia patient, and/or the physically unable person, is the most difficult calling a person can have in this life. I believe more counseling, understanding and guidance needs to take place. Some help and guidance for the care-giver could be done via a video as the patient is receiving their care. Both parties are confused and hurting and there has to be a better way.
I see many people in the waiting rooms of VA Hospitals in Biloxi and Pensacola and in the clinic in Mobile, whose lives could be improved. If those who complain about our veterans could just walk a mile in their moccasins; if they could walk a mile in the shoes of these caregivers (who are usually family); I believe it would soften their hearts and they would surely understand the importance of helping these weary, injured souls and their care givers. The problems in our VA Health facilities are NOT those who work closely with patients.
People helping people is the way it needs to be.
Letters from Benny
