“Do you know the code to get out?” she asked me.
“Indeed, I do,” I told her.
“Good, I’ll walk out with you.”
Like me, she had been visiting someone in the long-term care facility.
“Do you have a friend or relative here?” I asked as we stepped down the stairs.
“An old friend,” she told me, and then after pausing, as if to reflect on whether or not to confide in me, she added: “It’s not always easy to visit her. It was especially difficult at first.”
Then she concluded, “But the trick is, to keep on going.”
Her last statement caught my attention.
“Could you repeat that?” I asked.
“The trick is, to keep on going.”
She had it right: keep on going.
Visiting long-term care facilities is not something most people like to do. Carol Bradley Bursack, editor in chief of ElderCareLink, points to three main reasons people don’t visit long-term care facilities: the smell of the nursing homes is often off-putting; the condition of the residents is depressing; and there is always something better to do, or so it seems.
I recall the visits I made to a long-term care facility when I was a student in college. I was serving as a “pastoral intern,” a requirement for a class I was taking in pastoral ministries. One resident always seemed to be crying loudly, while repeating the same word, “Momma,” over and over. The smell of the facility made me wince every time I was there. I recall thinking, “When I’m a Pastor, this is ONE thing I’m not going to do.” And as soon as I would leave, I would get in my car and turn up the volume to rock n’ roll music.
But somewhere in my journey, I stopped thinking about the facility itself and started talking and listening to the residents who live there.
I remember my dad commenting in the dining hall of the retirement center where he lived out his last days. “Look around,” he said. “Everyone in here was somebody, sometime.”
The residents have stories to tell, although some are at a point where they are unable to share them.
So, that’s one thing you can do if you visit: Find out about the person and ask about their life. Maybe pictures on the wall can give you a clue.
What if they can’t share their feelings?
Simply being there is often enough. By your presence, you are saying, “I care.”
You might talk about yourself and what’s going on with your life, as long as you don’t overdo it. Most residents love company and telling about yourself will usually interest them.
If you ask them a lot of questions, you may confuse them, depending on their physical and mental situation.
I always try to talk about them, as much as I can.
“Buford, is this you when you were a little boy?” I ask, pointing to a picture on the wall, above his bed.
“Christine, you must have been a faithful worker at the drugstore,” I say, while looking at an old newspaper clipping. Her smile is her way of showing her approval, now that she has difficulty speaking.
I think one of the main reasons most people have trouble visiting long-term care facilities is that the residents there confront us with our own mortality, something we are experts at avoiding. I suppose that’s why I would turn up the volume on the radio when I got in the car as a college student; it was a mechanism for masking the fact that as young as I was, I would not stay that way forever.
It may not be pleasant, but it is necessary to look at where we might be, should our lives come to that place, for doing so has a way of putting the present into perspective.
My visits to the long-term care facilities won’t likely lead to a skyrocketing of attendance at my church. But, every time I walk away, I feel more determined to take in each present moment as a gift from God.
And in some small way, I believe I’ve ministered to saints, God’s children.
“God bless you,” I told the lady as we parted ways outside the nursing home.
“He already has,” she responded.
Yes, indeed.