A Christmas Plea for Compas...

My wife is a nurse, as I've said before.  As a nurse in a small hospital, she sometimes comes home with tales of humor, embarrassment, bravery, hope and despair.  But today she told me something that struck at my heart in a particularly potent way.  Please read on...

Just suppose for a moment that you are an elderly person. Your spouse passed away years ago and you live on a pension, in a small apartment. There are no close-by relatives, and hopping a plane to California or New York to visit and "impose on" relatives is not an option for you.  You have a variety of the ailments that afflict the aging, and take medication for those ailments, to ease their symptoms and provide some comfort.  But that comfort does nothing for your soul, for your emotional heart.

One day as you sit alone in your tiny apartment, you are watching television, a show about someone around your age who has been admitted to the hospital.  The sick woman in the hospital show has people visiting her... has other patients to speak with... has nurses and other caregivers coming by on a regular basis to check on her.  In its own way, it is a more pleasant setting than your own.  And so you think....

A couple of days ago an elderly woman (in her mid-seventies) was admitted to the hospital where my wife works.  She was suffering from a variety of problems, to which I am not privy and which really make no difference to the story.  My wife noticed that she was particularly eager to talk, and that she would bring up all sorts of subjects to keep my wife engaged and close by in her room.  While this might be annoying at another time, there was something about this lady that drew my wife to spend extra time with her. She was desperately, achingly lonely.

After a while, this woman revealed to my wife that she simply did not want to spend Christmas alone again. So, a few days previous, she simply stopped taking some of her medication. Over a few days, she felt worse and worse, and ultimately was transported to the hospital emergency room, where she was admitted to the Intensive Care Unit.  

Both my wife's eyes and my own eyes teared up as she told me of what this terribly lonely woman had done.  She was not a fool, no senile dotard.  She had the full capacity of her intellect; she knew full well what she was doing and the risk she was taking by neglecting her medication.  But to her, it was worth the risk to her own health to be near people again at Christmas, to feel connected with other human beings who cared what happened to her, even if it was only their job... to have someone to ask about their family and their life and perhaps for them to ask her about her own. 

As my wife was leaving her shift at the hospital today (she works the night shift), she went in to speak to the dear lady once more.  Her vitals were back within the range where they should have been, and her body's chemistry was relatively balanced now. She would be going home, probably sometime today  or early tomorrow, Christmas Eve.  "I guess it will be okay to be home by myself at Christmas," she said wistfully as my wife stood at her bedside. "I have one neighbor who comes over sometimes and watches TV with me.  Maybe she can come visit."

It wrenches at my heart to think of this.  Unfortunately, my wife is working Christmas Day, or I would probably go and get the dear old soul and bring her here for Christmas dinner. I may yet.

I wonder... is there anyone you know who is alone at Christmas? Is there someone nearby who is so painfully lonely that they would rather be in a hospital bed with some companionship than alone in his or her house at the holidays?

If there is, would you consider perhaps doing something to ease that pain?  How about dropping by with a plate of cookies or fudge?  Or maybe calling them on the phone and spending some time just chatting about things?  Or perhaps you could go all the way and invite this person to Christmas dinner, or Kwanza'a meal, or Hanukkah... or if you are not religious, how about just some pleasant personal time over coffee and cake?

I'm not the most religious or "churchy" person in the world, by conventional standards.  But I like what James the Apostle said in his New Testament letter to the churches: "Pure religion and undefiled before our God and Father is this, to visit the fatherless and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unspotted from the world."  That last part is pretty hard to do, but I think we could all manage to accomplish some of the first part.

How about you?