the art of accepting help

From the Senior Side

 

The Art of Accepting Help 

 

By

 

Carl Jarvis

 

Mary Williams has been helping others since 1930.  That was the year Mary turned ten years old and her mother was killed by a runaway milk truck.  With six younger brothers and sisters needing care, Mary took over as the house mother, fixing meals, washing the family laundry, making sure Sunday night baths were taken and all prayers were properly said.  Back in those days she was Mary Olsen.  Mary stepped into her mother's shoes and for the next twenty years her life was dedicated to caring for her family.  But Mary had a secret dream.  She wanted to complete her education.  And so, at the age of 30 Mary stood with the class of 1951 and received her diploma. 

Now she dreamed of becoming an English teacher.  After taking a year off to become Missus Robert Williams and bring Robert Williams Junior into the world,  she entered the University of Washington.  After four years Mary graduated tenth in her class and took a job as an English teacher.  This was 1955.  Mary and Bob had planned a large family but they only had the one son.  It didn't stop them.  They took in foster children and Bob became a scout master while Mary taught Sunday school.  Children were the center of their lives. 

Life was busy and sweet for many years, filled with noisy giggly children of all ages.  Then in 1969, Bob Junior joined the Marines and was quickly shipped out for Viet Nam.  He was a Lance Corporal.  "It was November 2," Mary recalled.  "The darkest, longest day of my life."  They told Mary and Bob that Bob Junior had been a real hero, saving several other young men by throwing himself on the explosive device.  Mary said that Bob was never the same after that.  His first heart attack came one year almost to the day that Bob Junior had been killed.  Bob's folks were both living and in very poor health.  They moved his parents into Bob Junior's old room and once again Mary became the house mother, caring for Bob and his parents, while continuing to teach. 

Bob and his parents died within a year of each other.  By 1975 Mary was alone for the first time in her life.  "My work kept my head together," she told us.  And as time passed Mary became active again in her church  doing what she did best.  She looked in on the lonely shut-ins, bringing a pot pie or a big cauldron of soup or some tasty cookies.  She would sit and read folks mail to them, read stories and gossip about things going on at church. 

Mary retired from teaching in 1985, but she continued her visitations for ten more years until Macular Degeneration forced her to quit driving.  Still, Mary never thought of herself as blind or in need of help.  For fifteen years she continued on, keeping her home and yard neat and cheery.  Her life centered around her church.  Mary began holding Bible studies in her home.  She always had a fresh pot of coffee, another of tea and a pile of warm, freshly baked cookies on hand.  Most likely Mary would still be holding class except, for her 90^th birthday she fell and broke her hip.  "I thought I'd just heal up and get right back to my regular routine", she told us.  But the weeks dragged on and the pesky hip did not want to heal properly.  Even then we would have never met Mary.  She had never thought of herself needing help because of her blindness.  "I can still see", she told us after her home nurse had called us in.  "I just can't tell who you are.  Your face is a blur." 

 "The only thing getting me down is not being able to get up", she said with a soft laugh.  "I have my talking books and now my lady friends bring me the containers of soup and cookies."  Her eyes went sad and her voice softened to a whisper.  "You know, it's so very hard having to accept help from others when you've been the helper all your life". 

We reached out and held both of Mary's hands, "You have just put your finger on the greatest challenge confronting older people", we said.  "But perhaps it would help to look at it from a different angle.  Rather than thinking of yourself as needing help, think of yourself as a partner with your care givers.  You have needs to be met.  Work together to find solutions.  Don't become passive and allow others to tell you what they will do for you.  You are your own boss until your last breath.  Because your health has failed, others will think of you as needy and helpless.  You must not allow them to think that.  Tell them you are a team and if they don't want to be a team player they can go somewhere else." 

Mary was quiet for a long time.  Finally she smiled and looked up.  "I gotcha.  I am my own boss." 

When we came to see Mary again we found her sitting in a wheelchair.  "We figured out how I can get myself into this chair and now I can once again wander about my house", she beamed, happily clapping her hands.  "We are a team." 

And her care giver nodded her head, "And you are the play maker, Mary", she said, smiling. 

We never saw Mary again.  Just one month after her 91^st birthday we received a call from her care giver.  "I thought you would want to know," she said, and we could feel it coming, "Mary had a massive stroke and died yesterday."  We whispered, "Thank you for thinking of us", and sat a long time with tears on our cheeks and that choked up feeling in our throats.  It is so very hard.  Losing friends.  But then Mary's laughing voice rang out loud and clear, "I really am my own boss again!"