OId and Forgotten

I never imagined work would make me feel so good and so bad at the same time. Today was a surprisingly emotional day. I spent the day conducting client interviews on people who use the Personal Assistance Services program through a State of Nevada funded program. Part of our duty is to monitor the level of service the grantee is providing to its clients. I went into it somewhat blinded since I really did not have a lot of knowledge about the program itself - only that people who qualified could receive a care attendant for a determined number of hours to assist with daily living tasks (anything from bathing to housekeeping).

My first in-home appointments today involved an older folks. The first was a couple in their late 80s. The husband was trying so hard to take car of his wife, when he could barely take care of himself. She could hardly speak or move and he could barely hear. Communication between the two was minimal but the husband was determined to care for his ailing wife even if it cost him his own. It made me think of Jake, because I know he would be that man if we were in that situation.

Another man on my interview list surprised me when he told me he was in his 90s; because other than his inability to move about easily, I would've guessed he looked like he was in his late 60s or early 70s. The poor man almost brought me to tears. He was genuinely happy - although I couldnt figure out how. He lives in a trailer and has no family other than some stepchildren that dont bother to contact him. His wife had recently died and from the looks of it, he had gone out of his way to provide her with the best possible care and attention until the day she died. Again, he looked as he was almost unable to care for himself, so I have no idea how the man was able to assist his ailing wife. The thought of that alone made me hurt inside. But then he said something so selfless that I had to look away so he would not notice the tears welling up in my eyes. He mentioned that all his funds were in a trust, but that his wifes wishes were that her children (his stepchildren) receive certain financial benefits. So even though they do not call, visit or write, he continues to pay out because this is what she wanted. Not once did he complain about his living conditions nor the fact that his lack of funds drive him to build his own homemade home modifications so that he can get about his house more easily.

What made me feel the worst: the realization that most of these people were excited to see me and talk with me because other than their personal care attendants, they don't have a whole lot of interaction with others. Not one asked me for Identification.