What is the measure of a life?

comforter quest

This post was prompted by my one of my  clients.
We were looking at old photos, and I picked up one that showed three friends, tall, 20-somethings, dating back to perhaps taken in 1957. He pointed to the man on the right, "Church Minister", pointed to the one on the left, "Teacher". Pointed to the man in the middle, "Me.", and shrugged his shoulders as if to say his life was inconsequential.

Many of my Lanark County clients were farmers, ferriers, contractors; ordinary people, with ordinary lives. Many have interesting stories to tell me.


What is the measure of a life?
It is not in the value of the car, the home, the land, a salary, or a career. It is not in the style of one's hair, the clothes one wears, nor the shape of a body. The value of a person is in how s/he is treated by those who love them. And, in return, the love s/he shows for them. Sometimes that love is simply in accepting a loved one's help. Sometimes it is in accepting the help of a stranger. Sometimes the help of many strangers.

Rest easily, December 1937 - 2011

We know that the measure of a person is...immeasurable.
God Don't Make No Junk, I've read here and there. We cannot measure some by their deeds, as many haven't climbed mountains, or won fame and glory.

We have seen the laud and praise heaped on the late Canadian Jack Layton, the late Ottawa journalist Earl McRae, Jamie Hubley, or 33-year-old Danielle Naçu.

These people have won the hearts of those whom they'be touched. But we cannot judge a person by how many attend their funeral, or whether they achieved greatness and glory. My late father had 9 people at his funeral. Predeceased by my mother, my mother's neighbour and dear friend told me she didn't have the heart to attend Dad's funeral. Mom died on Mother's Day weekend, 2006, Dad died Feb. 16, 2007. Funerals aren't for the dead, they are for the living. There is much comfort in sharing grief, even a stranger's grief.

Can't measure a person
by the cost of childbirth
$42.00 in 1937

Wee young Jamie Hubley, a gr. 10 student who died by his own hand, had many strangers at his funeral. After facing bullies, homophobics, teasing and depression. (We cannot call it committing suicide, as if this person was a felon.) He was driven into taking his life by his mental ill health.

Wanda liked the comforter

These are the sung heroes. The unsung heroes are those to toil in caring for a palliative family member, with no hope and no support. They get little attention. They get up every day and do it all over again. Family caregivers are immeasureable, too. I've been there. I know. Some receiving Home Care could have a dozen or more different PSWs and/or nurses to care for them. Continuity is difficult. We are short such staff in Ontario.
Thankfully, in Canada, we do not measure a life. All receive healthcare.

I love this message: All we need is...

Someone to love,
Something to do,
Something to hope for!

Someone to love

When my parents died, and I quit teaching, I knew I had people I loved, and family who loved me: my husband, children, grandchildren, cats. Care recipients feel unloveable and imagine themselves a burden. Tell them you love them.

Something to do
I didn't have much to do, had burned out caregiving, and had little left to do on a daily basis. I had everything I needed and wanted: family, a decent home, a modest pension. But the daily routine of getting up, making lunch, going out to work, changes your life. Many who retire find it difficult having nothing to do.

Something to hope for
I had lost hope. I was content with my life, but knew something was missing. We have enough money to repair and maintain our home, and live simply. We do not travel abroad, that is something neither of us wish for. We spend much time in the region, traveling to fairs and festival, eating at new restaurants, taking photos, capturing photos of flora and fauna.

I found something to hope for after volunteering. I hoped to make a difference. I have channelled my hopes into hoping to have a good day. I work out for a half hour. Work outdoors gardening, or raking, creating sculptures in our yard. I dug a goldfish pond in late summer. That was fun. I'd hoped for a goldfish pond and it turned out to be a frog pond!

Doing end-of-life care is very rewarding to me. This is my 'something to do', now.

I bought this Angel of Courage
for my late mom,

I took it in to my client.

I am concerned that those who are palliative do not end up like my father: angry, morbid, agitated, and in pain. I have spent many hours doing a life review with clients, something I wished I'd done with my Mom and Dad. He lost hope, and we seldom spoke during his dying of the good times; his earliest or his favourite memories, his message to his children, his favourite childhood memories.

There are things to hope for at this stage of life. Many talk about the language we use around cancer. We must eradicate the 'battling cancer' imageries, for many should not be called losers. It is not a war. Cells gone wrong is what cancer is about. You body manufacturing faulty cells.

It's not a battle. Those who die by their own hand have lost hope.
At death's door you hope for support, a kind word, a soft touch.

Hope means laughter
What helps is a good laugh. I take this book into all of my client's. Dr. Seuss. My current client calls me "Dr. Seuss", as he couldn't remember my name in the sea of names and faces or caregivers that come and go from his home. For those with poor eyesight I read it to them. Others refuse to read this "kid's book!"

Very comical and priceless for 7's to 70's!

Why fit in when you were born to stand out? ~ Dr. Seuss

Unfortunately, many are no longer able to stand.

 I usually dress up when volunteering. No uniform, bright colours. It pleases those who are feeling drab. My late mother spoke of her best friend, Darya Arden, visiting her after a miscarriage sometime in the 1950s, and her friend wore her best red dress, and a bright red hat. Aunt Darya brought me bright red strawberry soaps when MY daughter was born (1979).

You hope to be clean and pain free.
Some people find something to hope for in a smiling face of a caregiver. It doesn't matter what you say, but it is how you look at and treat another person. The comfort of someone who gives you unconditional love.

That man is wealthy beyond measure. Whether it be a son who is there when he is needed, or a stranger who gently changes a bed, or another who sits in amicable silence. That man is rich.

A cynic knows the price of everything and the value of nothing. 
    -Oscar Wilde, writer (1854-1900)