HIS SUNDAY BEST
They always counted on him to show up every Thursday afternoon. For the past five years, ever since his early retirement from a desk job that sucked the life out of him, Bob Montgomery volunteered at a nursing home just around the corner. He would put on his Sunday best, polish his shoes, comb his hair back and then leave his apartment at approximately 1:53 p.m. He would sign in at the front desk, always noting the time as exactly 2:00 p.m. He would then walk down the hallway to the nurses’ main station and get the list of the patients they wanted him to visit that day. Some of them were names Bob recognized from a prior Thursday and some were new patients that had just arrived. But all of them had indicated they would like a visitor that day if he could fit them in.
Many would be dead before the month was over, and he never knew if he would ever see them again. He seldom visited anyone more than 3 or 4 times. As time went on, and the dying process more advanced, they would lose interest in conversation and the outside world in general. They would sometimes nod off in the middle of a sentence and then sleep through half his visit. He never took it personally. He told everyone he just wanted to be there for them if they wanted company and it was enough for him if all he got back was a smile when they would wake up and recognize him.
Bob always made a point of spending the most time with the patients who had no family or few visitors, if any. The nursing home would check a box on the patient list if this were the case so Bob would go to these people first. He would pull up a chair right next to them and then hold their hand while they talked. He was taught to never force or direct the conversation too much and just let them speak about whatever they wanted. It was comforting for them to have a good looking and kind man like Bob with such a gentle nature listening to them. In time, their story would come out, and Bob would learn all about their family, friends and the work they used to do. He also knew where their home was, how much money they had, where their cars were parked and whether they had ever gotten around to writing a will.
Before he signed out at 5:00 p.m., Bob always filled out a visitor form that the nursing home required for their files. Sometimes the visits were not very productive, and he only wrote down one or two items that would be of interest to them. But on other Thursdays, he earned a decent commission. The longer the list of items he reported, the greater the chance that Bob would never see that patient again.
Copyright © 2015 (Michelle Parsons, Getting Back on Your Path). All Rights Reserved.
