So this is different. I’m become used to being a picture of a sunflower on the Internet, the unseen hands typing away on a computer…or more often than not, my iPhone between shifts and errands. Being here, at Pioneer Networks Conference is…way, way different. It’s awesome, and pretty scary. My hands are shaking so badly I’m beginning to rock the music stand holding my script. It’s part nerves…and part something else. I take my hands off the music stand and clasp them behind my back.
Smile was hard. In rehearsal, I burst into tears because that resident…that woman who sat on the commode and broke through her own aphasia to remind me to smile…she’s gone now. She died a few months ago, and that moment, that memory is so precious to me. It’s been the moment and the memory that I relive each time I think about quitting this job or this field. (Yes, even I have those moments.) And now she’s gone. She won’t ever speak again to me, won’t ever tell me to smile. And experience has taught me that in a year or so, I’m not going to remember her face. It will blur and while I will hopefully never forget her, her face will fade until one day it won’t be her face I see. I hate it, but that’s the truth.
I’m so sorry, I tell her in my mind. I’m sorry that I made you feel bad that day and I’m sorry I won’t be able to perfectly preserve your memory. I sorry HIPAA didn’t let me capture your image so I could always remember your smile, your eyes. But while the details will blur, you will always be part of me…and you’re here in this room now. I carry your ghost with me everywhere. All of us caregivers have ghosts.
I look up from my script and look out over this crowded room and I wonder…how many ghosts are here today? How many silent residents stand behind the people sitting at these table, how many lost loved ones are watching them, watching me? I’ve got well over one hundred myself. How many do they have, these people watching me?
Ok, ya’ll, I think, turning my script to how do you say goodbye? This one’s for you guys, all you ghosts filling the spaces and the hearts in this room.
Oh, boy. And I only thought the room was crowded before I remembered you were here!