My Hospice Blog – His father was a proud socialist.
I was in the neighborhood so I called Henry and asked if he’d like a muffin and hot tea with milk. I always ask patients if they’d like a muffin or donut because I buy an extra one for me. Henry was enthusiastic. He wanted the blueberry muffin.
When I arrived he was sitting in his bathrobe. Henry said his ankles were swollen, so he was told to elevate his feet. Otherwise, he said he felt well. “Normal for an old guy.” he said.
When I asked if he was in pain, he told me about the same pain on the right side of his face he had described before. He said the hospice doctor had prescribed a drug that gave him the first relief in years.
He told me he had gotten used to the pain because he had experienced if from childhood. He was convinced that the pain came from being forced to change from being left-handed to right-handed. It was in elementary school when his teacher told him to do everything with his right hand. When I told him I had always suffered from being left-handed in a right-handed world, he said. “I’ll bet you’re probably right handed in everything but writing and eating.” I was shocked. How did he know?
We sat and talked about his life, his work and his death. He said he realized that his time was short and he had no regrets. It always surprises me when hospice patients accept their situation. I sense that most patients understand, but they avoid any mention of the topic. That’s why his statement surprised me. I was relieved because I didn’t have to tiptoe around the “elephant in the room.”
As the conversation turned to his family, Henry started to tell about his father. This was the first time he had mentioned his father. He told me his father was a proud socialist.
He described how his family suffered during the Depression. He described the desperate circumstances of their neighbors. Most men were out of work and borrowing from relatives to make ends meet. Being a socialist and a union man was difficult, because most people would take his job if they had the opportunity. Henry said that his father was a skilled tool and die maker and always had work during the Great Depression.
As he related how fortunate his family was, he praised his father in rare terms that conveyed his love and admiration. Henry told me his memories of the factory where his father worked. I could smell the oil and smoke from his words. The company was struggling to cut expenses and stay in business as many had failed. As he described the working environment he told instances of his father’s generosity.
I was surprised and moved to learn about one incident. I could hear the emotion in Henry’s voice when he said his father told management he wanted to cut his hours in half, so another man could keep his job. It was a desperate time for many but his father faced the challenge and made a profound impression on his son.
I felt fortunate to hear this story and thanked Henry for sharing it. He smiled and said simply, “my father was a good man.”
