$35 for 12 - A Sad Farewell

Joan Phillips

9/2/1931 - 6/8/2018

I worked as a volunteer ombudsman visiting nursing homes and assisted living facilities for 8 years, and in the course of my work I “adopted” a resident who had no family visiting or providing support. The year was 2006 when I first met Joan, and I visited her for 12 years, until last week when she passed away, alone and depressed. When we met, I was new on the job, and was shocked to find out that residents on MediCal only get to keep a personal allowance of $35 per month. I even blogged about it! Please take the time to read that blog now, so you can understand the bleak life endured by nursing home residents:  35 Bucks

Over the years Joan was grateful for all the fun times I was able to facilitate for her.

In the earlier years, Joan was able to go out in my car.

It started with a birthday party at Lisa’s Tea. I recruited friends and my mom to make it a festive occasion, and Joan was moved beyond words. She had never had a birthday party for herself in her whole life! Her family belonged to the Christian Science faith, and they didn’t believe in such self-centered activities. Joan even spent some time in an orphanage run by the church when her mom couldn’t take care of her. She didn’t volunteer this information. I discovered it when I studied Joan’s family history on Ancestry.com. In the 1940 census, she was listed as a resident of the group home.

Actual census page from 1940

Periodically Joan would get annoyed with me and declare that she never wanted to talk to me again. I remember telling her one time that we had been friends for over 10 years, and I know she didn’t mean that. So she should just call me when she feels better. And she called back a day later. Joan suffered from anxiety disorder (among other things) and often had perceived slights that grew out of proportion in her mind. One such slight was I was away on her birthday, after having organized many annual celebrations. I sent her a postcard with a pretty ocean scene, and told her I was sorry to be missing her birthday, but to know I was thinking of her. I also sent an edible fruit bouquet (not cheap!), thinking she might share it with others at the home to still be able to have a celebration of sorts. She was furious! You see, the fruit all had to be eaten in one day or it would go bad. She felt like it wasn’t for her… it was for everybody. And I couldn’t even be troubled to send a birthday card? She said the post card didn’t count. I was in the habit of sending post cards on most of our trips, so to her, it was nothing special. We had quite a few incidents like that over the years, but I brushed it off knowing she had a mental disorder.

When Joan had surgery for breast cancer, I sat in the waiting room at Kaiser. I wanted her to know someone was there who cared about her. She insisted it wasn’t necessary, but I explained that the staff just might be more attentive if they knew someone was there waiting. They asked if she was my mom, and that annoyed Joan. She angrily said, “No, we’re friends.”

Joan was a true friend to Jean, a fellow nursing home resident who had serious physical limitations that made it difficult for her to speak or eat. Joan steadfastly stayed with her at meals, helping her eat, staying after others were long gone so that Jean could finish her meals. She made sure Jean was included in activities, and didn’t want to go anyplace unless Jean could go too. Jean’s family paid for Joan to use Outreach, the handicap bus service in the area, going along as a “caregiver” even though she was in a wheelchair herself. They liked to go to movies, all by themselves. They went to Starbucks for a treat, too. That’s quite an undertaking for nursing home residents with such limited abilities. I admired her spirit.

We did tattoos that day. Jean was wild, getting it on her chest!

Jean and Joan were always together

But in January, 2018 when Jean passed away, Joan lost her own purpose in life. Her days became meaningless with no way to contribute. Then, to top it off, I ended up moving to Nevada in April 2018. Joan said she truly felt alone, and that she would never see me again, and there was now no point to her life. I assured her that I’d still visit, since I have a 1-year-old granddaughter nearby to see. My last visit with Joan was on May 28, when I popped over to give her a check. She called asking if she could borrow some money because she had gotten herself in a pickle. I said sure, borrowed a car since our truck was still being packed for moving, and delivered the check. She had overdrawn her account at the nursing home and owed the hairdresser money. She said she'd give me her ring as collateral. No worries. My friends and I liked to contribute to her fund so she could enjoy phone, tv, hair appointments, and occasionally buy some new clothes. On the way out, Maxine, another longtime resident, stopped me to ask if Joan was okay. I said she was fine, just kind of down since Jeannie died. Imagine my shock when I received a call from the nursing home advising me that Joan had passed away from renal failure on Friday, June 8. I wasn’t notified until Monday the 11^th. 

The social worker told me of Joan’s passing, and said she wanted me to have a piece of her jewelry. I laughed and said, “Yeah, she owed me money!” I made a lovely little video slide show that I planned to post, then the computer refused to save it. That’s so mean when they let you go through a whole thing then jerk the rug out at the last minute. At least I got to enjoy the show. Then I made another one using Powerpoint, but I can’t convert to video & upload to YouTube with the background music so I gave up and uploaded it with no music, then picked stock music from the site... not great, but better than silence.                                                              

Joan's Photo Memorial 

So in this sad time of reflection, I try to take solace in knowing I did what I could to bring a spark of joy to Joan’s life. My little video shows of some of the good times we had together. Please take a moment to watch it, and then reach out to someone who could use a friend. Sometimes just a friendly hello can make a difference.