Our Stories

When I arrived at Rosewood Care Center this morning, my mother was sitting in the hall saying goodbye to the housekeeper. As I turned the corner, Mom shouted "She's here! She's here!" and the housekeeper said to me, "Ah, Ud. es la profesora". Next thing you know, she and I are chatting about her home town in Mexico.

In Mom's room a few minutes later, my task was to label her displayed family pictures in Spanish: "mi hija Alice con mi nieto Kevin", "Owen, el hijo de mi nieta", "Lisa, la esposa de mi nieto David con su ahijado Joel" and so forth. Mom wanted the Spanish speaking CNAs to understand her relationships to all these people. She is, in effect, shouting, "These are people I love and who love me."

Shortly afterwards, two CNAs enter to take vitals. Reading the sticky-note signs, they say to me, "Oh, you speak Spanish?" and I get to ask them how to say "great-grandson" en español. Another bond is made. Also I can now correct my awkward "the son of my granddaughter" description. (For those interested, it is "bisnieto".)

I didn't see Juan today, but Juan's face always lights up when he sees me. We have a bond. too. He's from Guanajuato and he knows I've been to his hometown. He also knows that he can complain about Mom's roommate to me in Spanish and get away with it.

Small stuff - but we all need so desperately to form those bonds, to not be anonymous. We need others to know our story.

The Russian residents huddle together speaking Russian. On her xenophobic days, Mom will complain about those "foreigners" and their Russian TV channel - but I tell her that they, too, need to tell their stories. Fortunately, Rosewood provides a Russian speaking nurse and social worker. Those residents are not anonymous.

Down the hall is an Iranian man. He speaks Persian. No one else in the building speaks Persian and he lives for the weekly visit by relatives. How sad.

I have been greatly blessed by a multitude of people who know my story and have shared their stories. If I ever need to move to a place where no one knows my story, I hope there will be people similar to the Rosewood staff who will ask me about my labeled family pictures--and, meanwhile, I hope I can become yet more open to hearing other's stories.