REAL WORLD EVENT DISCUSSIONS

Age, disability, and death

POSTED BY: SIGNYM
UPDATED: Sunday, August 9, 2015 13:53
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Sunday, August 9, 2015 12:45 PM

SIGNYM

I believe in solving problems, not sharing them.


I saw this on a Russian blogsite, it has nothing to do with Ukraine specifically, although it does take place in the eastern part of the country.

Quote:


Just Candy

By Yevdokia "Dunya" Sheremetyeva [littlehirosima]

Translated from Russian by J.Hawk

--Veanida! What a beautiful name! And unusual!
Veanida Semyonova Chizhikova, born 1931. One would think she does not understand anything. But it's not so. She's trying to say something, with her twisting tongue and tears in her eyes. She understands everything but it's difficult for her to speak.
--I knoooow.
It's difficult for her to speak, but she tries very hard.
--I also have a rare name! I'm Dunya.
--My grandmother was named Dunya--Yevdokiya.




--Veanida Semyonovna, would you like a piece of candy?
--My hands don't work.
--I bring it to you!
I bring it up her mouth, but she lost her composure and started to cry.
A nurse walked up and stroked her head.
We left the room, and she cried and cried.
The corridors in the retirement home are long, endlessly long. And straight.
You get stuck in them like in chewing gum.
Rooms, rooms, wheelchairs, walkers.
And the smell--the smell is indescribable.

run into a similing old lady.
--Katya, want some candy?
The nurse brings me to meet Yekaterina Starykh, born 1927.
--She has a real sweet tooth!
We walk into her room.
"Katya" is not one of the bedridden ones. She's a very spry old lady. But she's hard of hearing.
--Would you like some candy? Should I unwrap it?
--Oh yes!!! That's all for me? For me? Oy!
As we were leaving, "Katya" instantly stuck the bag of candy under her pillow.




http://fortruss.blogspot.com/2015/08/littlehiroshima-just-candy.html

These could be old people anywhere. Some of them, not so old ... younger than me, even. Maybe they're terminal, this is hospice care, after all.

I've sat with enough dying people, the terminally-ill, people slipping into deep dementia, to know what it's about. People who're wordlessly afraid. People for whom there is no hope or help.

As Mal said Everybody dies alone, and yet, being helpless, I still want to help. What would be good? Candy? Music? Hugs? I don't know.

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