I was born in 1952, and have a twin brother as well as an older brother and sister. Having a twin brother I did play with boy things growing up. Most often it was a train. I remember most about myself was a desire to be a caretaker even at the young age of seven and wanting to help the hurt and disabled. I noticed a bird one day that was limping and had lost his ability to fly. Using a shoe box, doll blankets and furniture from a doll house I made a recovery home for little crasher (A name I gave him, because I assumed his injuries were from crashing into a window.)I fed him worms I dug up in the yard, wrapped him in a blanket, and put small rags under his head for a pillow. I spent long summer days caring for crasher, to bring him back to health. Eventually, one day I went to his box and it was empty. I’ll never know for sure exactly what happened, but in my heart I knew he flew away and lived happily ever after.

My next encounter was as an eight year old helping a Carrie. Carrie was eleven at the time. As a young child she had been stricken with polio and as a result was crippled. She walked with a profound limp and two large braces on her legs. She couldn’t run and play like the other children I chose her to be my play partner. Even at the young age I felt sorry for her, I often wished I could help her o r some magic would happen that would make her braces disappear and allow her to walk. But it remained only a wish. I could though be her friend and play with her as much as I could.

Then when I was in third grade my assignment was to read a biography and write a book report. I chose Clara Barton. Ms. Barton first experience with care giving was providing twenty four hour care for two years for her invalid brother during the 1830’s until he died. Then during the civil war Ms. Barton responded to her calling to care for wounded soldiers, cradling them in her arms as they lie bleeding and dying from battle wounds. During this time she noticed more so often it was lack of proper medical supplies, (bandages, dressings etc.) and not lack of man power that resulted in soldiers dying in the battlefield. It was her vision that more soldiers could be saved if there were a more abundant supply of proper medical equipment, blankets, cots etc. that would promote healing of wounded soldiers. So she set about contacting and establishing a network to collect and distribute these needed supplies. In remained connected to it’s workings until her death in 1912. Her story and genuine heartfelt compassion resonated with me. I knew that somehow I wanted to be like her. To work with invalids, or even those bloodied and dying, to hold them and be with them during their hour(s) of pain, agony or distress.

During adolescence I was part of a group that helped physically disabled people in their homes and cared for people in an institution,” The state home and training school for the Mentally Retarded” or Ridge Home. It just happened to be located near the home where I grew up. It was on the route to different locations so we drove by it often. The facility was situated like a small college campus, with an array of small building that housed individuals with varying degrees of brain and neurological dysfunction. The campus was surrounded by a six foot chain link fence. Often there were individuals standing at the fence looking out at the street . This bothered me, I couldn’t understand what it was about these individuals that required they be in a different setting. They were removed from society, yet they posed no danger or threat.

My first job was working in a nursing home as a nurse aide. I was thrilled to finally get to wear a white uniform and go to work to be a nurse, even if it was just a beginning. I worked weekends and summer throughout my high school years. This was during the late nineteen sixties when dementia and Alzheimer’s Disease were still unknown terms. Most elderly were confused and most were thought to have OBS or organic brain disease. I enjoyed working with the elderly a lot. They always so appreciative of each thing done for them and always thanked me for being so kind and patient with them.

Finally the day came when I was able to attend college and apply for nursing school. I was thrilled but much to my great disappointment I was rejected with my first application. So I continued in college and ended up with a degree in psychology. I applied to nursing school a second time and was accepted. I felt incredibly humbled and honored when during my junior year, I received the Roy Anderson scholarship award. It is awarded each year to the junior student who consistently maintains a caring attitude while providing nursing care as well as an A average. I knew I had chosen the right profession. I completely loved every minute of nursing school.

My first nursing job was working on a busy surgical floor. I enjoyed this experience, however I wanted to work in with the frail elderly., so I worked in a nursing home. After a year I was offered a job with a large insurance company. I ended up working at this company for over fifteen years.

This job was new and exciting, something different than I ever thought I’d do. I worked with the president and several vice presidents in the development of managed care products. This was during the late nineteen seventies and early eighties, when most had never heard of an HMO or a PPO. In fact, the HMO and PPO I was fortunate to help develop, was one of the first in the country. I loved the corporate world ,business lunches, travel, and most of all wearing nice dress suits- Something very different than the nursing scrubs I’d worn most of my working days. I loved this job, but still missed working with the elderly. After having children my priorities changed. I wanted to be a mom spend more time with my young sons. Suddenly one day. It was as though a spell had overcome me, I gave my two week notice and went to work in a nursing home I as a Baylor nurse. A Baylor nurse works extra long shifts on the weekend i.e. 7am to 10 pm., and has the weekdays off. This was ideal, as it allowed me to work with frail elders and be home during the week with my sons. This experience was life changing for me. What was the norm and efficient in running the nursing home seemed cruel and almost inhumane in the way frail elders, people who were old and weakened and tired ,who just wanted to left alone, and make the most basic choices about when and how they ate, when they could go to bed and awaken each day, were forced to get up go to bed and worse into brightly lit large dining rooms at set times to be served whatever happened to be on the menu that day, whether they liked it or not. What to me seemed like not a very nice way to treat such frail people was the norm in the nursing home. I knew these elders could be cared for with more patience and understanding and much less commotion. It just so happened that I went through a divorce and to earn more income to keep my home so my sons could have a home where they could grow up. So fixed up the family room and bedrooms for my sons I to live in and turned the upstairs into a home for grannies.

After a few years in this little three bedroom ranch house caring for grannies, I was fortunate to move to a much larger home The home provided for separate living quarters for my sons and at the same time had several large bedrooms and living areas that allowed for the care of twelve elderly residents. For many years I have lived in the home as manager, while hiring caregivers to assist in caring for residents, helping with activities, cooking cleaning, and most of all spending time with each resident. Caring, loving and simply validating their very being. Something that seems so simple, yet is so important as one’s life draws to. It is from my experience of caring for these elders that prompted me to share their stories as they lose control of parts of their bodies, and eventually lose precious life itself.

It has been an honor and gift to share in final years and passing of some incredible people. Some who led lives full of adventure success and achievement, some who had incredible love stories and some who sadly had lives filled with regret and sadness.

There’s a saying that there are only two things for certain in life…You either grow old or you die young. My life has been about caring for those who grow old.