I went to the Mansion today and was happy to see your letters and messages and Valentine’s Day greetings and gifts are already beginning to arrive, and are warming the place up on this cold week. On the bulletin board was this very lovely letter to Peggy from Jenny of Arizona, she also has unusual hair and is told by friends it is the coolest hair she has ever seen. Peggy has often been told the same thing.
“As one wild-haired lady to another, I love the pictures Jon has posted of you. You obviously have spunk and it’s clear you’ve lived a wonderful life. I’m glad to “meet” you – even if its only a letter this time.” Peggy loved the letter and the staff posted it on the downstairs bulletin board where everyone could see it.
The staff also has a box with letters and cards, there are almost enough for everyone. There is a Valentine’s Day party at the Mansion on February 14th and I’ve been invited with Red. I’ll be there. I’ve got a bunch of invitations to come to dinner at the Mansion while Maria is in India, I’ll definitely come over for dinner one night.
Thanks so much for the love and work that goes into these messages and gifts, I wish you could see how much they mean to the residents there. If you are inclined to send something, the address is the Mansion, 11 S. Union Avenue, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816.
The residents names are Jean A., Mary, Gerry, Sylvie, Diane, Alice, Jean G., Madeline, Joan, Allan, Carl (Bob), John K., Aileen, Christie, Helen, Connie, Alanna, Barbara, Peggie, Dennis, John R., Bruce, John Z.
And thanks Jenny, you seem pretty great yourself, good to meet another wild-haired lady in this curious, but somehow intimate, way.
The Mansion Assisted Care facility called me this afternoon to tell me that Bill O., who left the Mansion two weeks ago for another nursing home – he needed more medical care – died last week. His death was peaceful. I know some of you are still sending him gifts and letters and cards, so I wanted to let you know.
Red and I went to see him a few days before he died, and the news was not a surprise for me. Bill seemed to be failing, he seemed to be letting go, disoriented at times. I know he very much appreciated the letters and messages some of you sent him, he kept them in the plastic bag (above), he read a couple to Red.
Bill lost his wife of 62 years last year, and he had to give his dog Duke to a shelter. The dog has been re-homed. Bill told me again and again – very proudly – how Duke used to fetch the morning paper for him, and how he accidentally taught him to do that. I had the sense he needed to tell some of the stories of his life.
Before he left, and when I last saw him, he apologized profusely for not finishing a book I had brought him that I had written. He said he just couldn’t focus most of the time.
I have been doing hospice and dementia and assisted care therapy work for more than a decade now. I began working with Izzy and Lenore, and now Red.
I have learned some things about how to deal with loss and death, although it is never simple. It is not a tragedy or a drama to me, it is just as much a part of life as breathing. We all live, we all die. It unites all of us as human beings. Perhaps not surprisingly, I often make the most powerful connections with people at the edge of death.
They are acutely aware of life, and what is important. They feel things intensely.
Hospice work and therapy work have taught me much about mortality. I connected with Bill, he loved to tell me stories about his life as a cook and before that, as a farmer. He loved to touch Red, who did not want to stay too long with Bill in his last visits. He became restless after a few minutes.
I have come to recognize this as the dog sensing that the person we are visiting is fading, is falling away.
Soon after, that person often dies. It isn’t that the dog is psychic, as some like to think, they don’t even know what death is.
Rather, they respond to the attention and body language of the person they are seeing. When Red sees people like Connie, she is excited, looks him in the eye, talks to him. He’ll sit there for an hour. Therapy dogs are trained to respond to that, or do it naturally. Bill couldn’t do that.
As people near death, they gather themselves and withdraw, and lose interest in the dog, they begin to prepare. The dog reacts to this by turning away, I have learned to watch for it. Bill understood this, I think. He knew where he was.
In nursing homes and assisted care facilities, death is always the silent partner in the hallways and the rooms, the guest that is never invited but is always there.
The hardest part for me is when I show up with Red in a room, and there is suddenly no one in it. Volunteers are not the first people who are called or who should be called. It was nice of Marie at the Mansion to let me know.
In our culture, we hide the aging away from us, out of sight and consciousness. No one dies at home anymore, most of us never see it. Death is a taboo in our media and much of our culture. People who work with the aging know it well.
Death often seems a great and unnatural shock to people. Yet nothing could be more common or inevitable than death, and I am grateful to have seen it up close, time and again. I have learned not to run from the idea of it.
I did not know Bill as long or as well as some, but I loved hearing his stories and admired his grit. I loved his tales about the show goats he raised with his wife, “back in the day,” as he put it. And of his cooking.
Bill lived a long and full life, he sensed he was near the end, and I was happy to hear he died peacefully. I think he had left enough behind and was done. He more or less said so.
This work has taught me much about life and death, and the challenging part is that almost everyone you get to know well ages, and then dies. It is something you have to accept, not something to grieve over every time. It is not an interruption in the work, it is the work. Any other response would make the work impossible. My work as a police reporter may have prepared me for this, I saw a lot of people die, and moved on before I got too used to it.
I wish Bill peace and compassion on his journey, wherever it takes him. I was pleased to get to know him, and enjoyed our talks. He was given loving and compassionate care. He loved much in his life, and that is why he missed so many things.
In places like the Mansion, however well run it is, people often feel disconnected from life, and when life comes into their world, it is magic. I thank you good people out there, your letters gave him a human connection he seemed to want and need. It made his last days brighter and more meaningful.
(you can write to the Mansion residents c/o The Mansion, 11 S. Union Street, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816. The names of the residents who wish to receive mail are John Z., Bruce, John R., Dennis, Peggie, Barbara, Alanna, Connie, Helen, Christie, Aileen, John K., Carl, Allan, Joan, Madeline, Jean, Alice, Diane, Sylvie, Gerry, Mary, Jean A.)
Valentine’s Day was in the air at the Mansion today, some of the residents were working on Valentine’s Day cards to send some New Jersey students who had sent them some Valentine’s Day cards, which they loved. In fact, writing the cards was today’s activity in the Activity Room.
Valentine’s Day is in the air there, there are baskets with hearts on them made by the staff, and I imagine some other stuff on the way from all over the country. I’m keeping it a surprise. But I think the staff knows, they read the blog. They are making room on the bulletin boards: The Mansion, 11 S. Union Street, Cambridge, N.Y., 12816.
Red spent some time with Jean, she was very happy to see him. Many of the residents ask Red to give him his paw, he is not trained to do any kind of tricks. But once during every visit, he offers his paw spontaneously – and very delicately – to his friends. Dog’s claws are important in therapy work, they can easily tear the skin of an older person if the dog is not careful and his nails not trimmed.
I am always humbled by the depth of feeling animals bring out in people. Red is a powerful example to me of the gift of animals to entertain and uplift people, even thought that has somehow – incomprehensibly to me – become controversial. I am understanding why people hate political correctness so much. It too often chokes the human spirit.
For those who asked, here are the first names of the Mansion residents who wish to receive messages. Some can respond, some can’t: Jean A., Mary, Gerry, Sylvie, Diane, Alice, Jean, Madeline, Joan, Allan, Carl (Bob), John K., Aileen, Christie, Helen, Connie, Alanna, Barbara, Peggie, Dennis, John R., Bruce, John Z.
Red was in wonderful form today, he made the rounds, was sweet and patient. After about 30-45 minutes, he is tired, and I stop. It is draining for good therapy dogs, intense kind of work.
I believe dogs rise to the opportunities offered them, they deserve a chance to succeed at things we don’t necessarily believe they can do. Fate has not worked out as a herding dog, she is simply too sweet and loving. She lacks the will to stalk and push. She adores people, but I have always believed she is too excitable to do therapy, and she still has a tendency to jump up on people when she first sees them.
This has been a difficult habit to break her off, although she calms down after a minute or two. Her instincts to greet are sometimes overwhelming. But her love of people moved me to take her to the Mansion today – under very close supervision – to see if therapy work might turn out to be right for her.
I was dubious. She does not have the calm or stillness or focus of Red, she is a good-time girl, distractable and excitable. She has the same quality as Red does of being trustworthy – she is not aggressive in any way. I can’t imagine her in hospice work.
In the Mansion, the residents are mobile, but some are frail, and I have a zero tolerance policy for mistakes in dog therapy work, the last thing the people we work with is to be pushed or knocked over. So I brought a short leash and kept her on it, and stayed several feet from her. If this works, I will continue working and training with Fate. Perhaps she can be accredited one day as Red was.
She was excited to come to the Mansion, the residents loved her. She started to jump on on the staff, but I was quick with the leash and sharp voice commands. She was anxious at first, unsure what the work was. It takes time to train a therapy dog to recognize that the people are the work, that must be reinforced over time.
Fate went into a melt when she saw people, wriggling towards them on the ground, tail wagging. She ran into Barbara in the activity room and walked up to her and put her head in her lap. She kept it there awhile, until she discovered the two parakeets in their cage. I have a photo of that coming up.
We visited four or five people, including Barbara, Connie and Madeline and Peggy and Aileen and John K. and Sylvie. Fate’s attention span was short, but she was beginning to focus on the people at the end of our visit. They were thrilled to see her and picked up on her sweetness and enthusiasm, and they loved her blue Pirate Eye.
We will need a lot of work if this is to work. I kept her close to me on a short leash and took no chances. Given the strangeness and the number of people and the fact that this was completely new work for her, she did very well. I”m going to keep it going and see what happens. A good therapy dog is intuitive, they connect appropriately with the people who need them, and they sense frailty and pain.
I enjoyed taking Fate she did well, especially for the first time.
Red knows if a patient is hurting, he approaches very slowly and never jumps up. I want to see if Fate has these gifts, many border collies do. I have not seen Fate as a therapy dog, but I am beginning to think I ought to pursue it, put my training shoes on. I take no chances with therapy dogs, no risks.
I may have failed to teach her how to herd sheep, but I might be able to train her to be an accredited therapy dog.
I think it’s 50-50 at best. Several of the Mansion residents asked if she could come back. Several asked when Red was coming back.
It is inspiring to watch the activity directors at the Mansion and the other assisted care facilities I’ve been to with Red. They are extraordinarily generous, dedicated and warm. Every time I’ve been at the Mansion, either Julie or Gail (above) is in the activity room, organizing a game or taking out a puzzle.
The room is an important place in the Mansion, the residents can gather there, talk to one another, have some fun and mental stimulation. Today, there was a killer game of monopoly going on, lots of money on the table, lots of negotiating. Lots of smiles, laughing and concentration.
There is a feeling of warmth and connection at the Mansion, the staff looks out for the residents, and the residents who can look out for one another. They play a hard game of Monopoly as well.
Maria and I came into the activity room with Red, and everyone lit up at her Frieda Kahlo leggings, everybody wanted to know where she got them, and then they peppered her with questions about her trip to India. Madeline, who is in her 90’s, said she was ready and willing to go to Kolkata.
They were just wild about her leggings and she had a blast talking about them. Maria is wonderful at this work, it is a joy to have her along sometimes.
