A neighbor is reaching the end of his life. He has perhaps only a week or two left. He is at home, because hospitals can offer no help that he wants, and he has no family available. He doesn’t want to leave the island, and he already knows which long-time friend he’d like to be buried next to in the island cemetery.
At the school and post office, wherever others of us cross paths, the schedule of caring for him is created. One islander is paid by the state to offer him part-time hospice work, but she’s a busy young mother and can only do so much. Otherwise his 24/7 care is in the volunteer hands of his fellow islanders. Those of us who are able go there in shifts, to bring food and do laundry, to cook and clean and to turn him in bed and to provide the most intimate personal care because he can no longer get up. (This is all in a house with no indoor bathroom, minimal electricity, probably no hot running water. ) Islanders manage the social and health paperwork that he needs, and administer his medications, and keep in touch with his doctors. There is an overnight schedule so that someone is always there every night, to tend him and turn him in bed. The overnight people get little sleep themselves, so the job has to rotate.
The people helping him are only neighbors. Men and women who mostly have no special certification besides kind hearts and practical hands. Bob has signed up for half of three nights next week. It is not known which of the carers will be with him when he dies.
I’m not personally sharing the work, this time. My memories are still too fresh from when it was my turn to be the main support person, ushering someone up to that doorway, and I’m not ready to do it again yet.
But I have a deep respect, admiration, gratitude, for all my neighbors who are offering themselves to this task. I heard tonight that one man has made the casket in his woodshop. We do what is needed here, with more realism than romance — but in this somber rainy November, the circle of community holds strong.
2 Comments
I think its beautiful, what your community is doing for one of its own. Its life as it should be with people interconnected and interdependant. No one does well all alone really, its just that we pretend we do. But ultimately, caring for someone who is dying is an honour. If only we showed half as much respect for each other in day to day life when we don’t know someone is dying… I think its wonderful that you have such a connected life on your island.
The comments above from Svasti say it all. And the real actions of your family (community) is all that could be hoped for. What an amazing life you must lead there on your island. If only this way of life could be brought to other communities and neighborhoods the world over.