I am a Physical Therapist Assistant and have been doing this for almost 8 years now in my second career.
For the most part, I'm a pretty stoic guy, not too much affects me emotionally, so I assumed that it would translate to being the same in this field. Boy was I wrong. I would like to share some of the stories of people that I've met and how they have impacted me. I will change the names to keep HIPPA compliant, but the stories I will tell are real.
Kathy was a patient at a skilled nursing facility that I used to work for and I found her assigned to me one morning for her first therapy session. She was a youngish woman, about 52 years old, and was in our facility for a stroke which left her with little use of her entire left side of her body.
My first sessions with people are always a "get to know you" session. There isn't a ton of physical work on that day. And this one was no different. It was obvious to me that Kathy was depressed (and who wouldn't be?) so I decided that humor was the best option when dealing and trying to motivate her. It worked. From that day, Kathy always had a smile for me when it was her turn to work. We did everything we could, from learning how to stand again, to walking inside the parallel bars, to even getting her to take a few steps with the use of a hemi-walker.
Unfortunately for our health-care system, even though she was improving, Medicare decided that she did not need any more therapy and she was cut from our case-load.
I didn't see her for a few days, but then she started coming to my office to visit and say hi. After my shift was over, and my crew had gone home, I would give Kathy sessions on my own time, helping her stand and walk, and letting her have that feel good moment of celebrating small victories that we take for granted each day.
One day, I was going through the cafeteria and I saw Kathy sitting at her table crying. She saw me and motioned me over to talk.
"My cancer is back" is the hammer she hit me with.
I tried to tell her that it was okay and how we can work to try to get through this, but she wasn't having anything to do with it.
"It's too far, I only have a couple of weeks left"
I was devastated.
Then she asked me for a favor that will forever be burned in my head.
"I want you to be a pallbearer for me".
"Of course I will" I answered. Then I lost it.
Kathy left us quickly, each day you could see her whither to nothing but she kept coming to visit. The last couple of days she was bedridden. I would go and talk with her, and hold her hand, and relive the last few months of our secret session. The last day, I went in to visit, and you knew that it was coming. I told her how honored I was to meet her and work with her, and I gave her a kiss on the forehead, I don't think she even knew I was there.
The news came the next day when I arrived to work. I happened peacefully overnight with her family by her side. Her sister came to my office and asked if I was the famous Shane. We spoke and talked about how much Kathy wanted to fight, and the sister said that the family was told that I was to be a pallbearer if I wished. Of course I did, I wasn't going to miss it for the world.
I did my duties that I promised, and it was tough. Not only on an emotional level, but also the looks I received from the LARGE Hispanic family that had no clue who I was or why the hell I was helping carry the casket during the funeral. Afterwards, her sister thanked me, hugged me, and that was it.
3 months. I knew Kathy 3 entire months, and I haven't seen or spoken with the family since.
Today as of this writing is 3 years since she passed on. And I still cry when I think of Kathy and the impact that quarter of a year had on me.