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The Lady Across the Way

One of my neighbors, a tiny woman with rail thin arms and bird-like legs, captures my attention every day. No small wonder since we have line of sight into each others rooms. I don't know what her affliction is but it has her operating at a near baseline level. I haven't heard a clear word from her, only gutteral sounds and the tinkling of her hand held bells alert us of a need. She points to her open mouth to signify hunger.

Since my arrival four months ago, I've been compelled to make contact to establish a friendly relationship. I started with smiles to which she'd duck her head. On her brief visits to the hallway, especially during her meals, I'd stop my wheelchair, smile, and say hello. Each time, she would seemingly studiously ignore me and urge the caregiver for another bite of her pureed meal.  The meal making an abstract mess of the pillowcase bib, begging the question, "Is any of the meal getting inside?"

This little waif of a woman twinges my heart. I want to look out for her and protect her from harm. Not that she needs protection here. She is well cared for.  Her child-like affect seems to bring out the protective parent in all of us, caregiver and fellow patient alike. I know that I drove the staff half-mad pushing my call button whenever she'd be agitated, teetering on stick legs over the safety mats, or scoot on her bum toward the doorway. They were well aware of her needs without my help as I found out. .

I know precious little about her. First name, she was an artist, has a daughter who visits occasionally. Because of HIPPA laws, staff cannot tell me anything of her condition. What a shame! I merely would like to educate myself on her disease to find if there is a means of communication. Nobody should be alone. Perhaps, I could be her friend.

I wonder what her life was like. I wonder if she ever married, where did she live, what kind of art did do, who did she love, what happened?   I guess I'm a nosy Parker. But, I mean no harm.What can she understand? Can she see that I want to be her friend? On some level, I believe she does. She has been hell bent to get into my room with me in it. The first time, I was frightened by her ferocity, her sheer determination to get inside my doorway. She was trying to get through an able-bodied PCT (patient care technician) using her hands and legs. They shut my door and I'm ashamed to say, I was relieved. (Hey, when you're paralyzed, you cannot put up much of a defense!)

Subsequent attempts, I've welcomed her "visits" but they don't allow her in. Pity. Liability? Oh well, maybe one day she'll make it in.

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