Encouragement

[SueG]

Two men, both seriously ill, occupied the same hospital room.

One man was allowed to sit up in his bed for an hour each afternoon to help drain the fluid from his lungs.

His bed was next to the room’s only window.

The other man had to spend all his time flat on his back.

The men talked for hours on end.

They spoke of their wives and families, their homes, their jobs, their involvement in the military service, where they had been on
vacation..

Every afternoon, when the man in the bed by the window could sit up, he would pass the time by describing to his roommate all the things he could see outside the window.

The man in the other bed began to live for those one hour periods where his world would be broadened and enlivened by all the activity and color of the world outside.

The window overlooked a park with a lovely lake.Ducks and swans played on the water while children sailed their model boats. Young lovers walked arm in arm amidst flowers of every color
and a fine view of the city skyline could be seen in the distance.

As the man by the window described all this in exquisite details, the man on the other side of the room would close his eyes and imagine this picturesque scene.

One warm afternoon, the man by the window described a parade passing by.

Although the other man could not hear the band -he could see it in his mind’s eye as the gentleman by the window portrayed it with
descriptive words.

Days, weeks and months passed.One morning, the day nurse arrived to bring water for their baths only to find the lifeless body
of the man by the window, who had died peacefully in his sleep.

She was saddened and called the hospital attendants to take the body away.

As soon as it seemed appropriate, the other man asked if he could be moved next to the window.The nurse was happy to make the switch, and after making sure he was comfortable, she left
him alone.

Slowly, painfully, he propped himself up on one elbow to take his first look at the real world outside. He strained to slowly turn to look out the window besides the bed.

It faced a blank wall.

The man asked the nurse what could have compelled his deceased roommate who had described such wonderful things outside this
window.

The nurse responded that the man was blind and could not even see the wall.

She said, ‘Perhaps he just wanted to encourage you.’

Epilogue:

There is tremendous happiness in making others happy, despite our own situations.Shared grief is half the sorrow, but happiness when shared, is doubled. If you want to feel rich, just count all the things you have that money can’t buy.

[shelties]

Thanks for posting that one Sue, I’ve seen it before, but always nice to have as a reminder. How true it is, but what an imagination that fellow had, that he could describe something so beautiful for his room mate, when he couldn’t even see at all.

Lorraine

[KIOWA]

I had a similar experience, well not quite, but anyway I was about 13 anr I worked at a nursing home washing floors. There was a totally blind elderly man who had been able to see for so many years it was depressing, to me anyway. But I visited him everyday and I enjoyed that. he was the one who was lonely, always without visitors but I was the one who benefited so much. One day he received a small desktop radio, a nice wooden one but it was still just a plain old radio. The family member who sent it to him never visited but the older man enjoyed the radio. One day he asked to to describe it to him. Where does a 13 year old boy begin to described a rather boring (to me) radio? It came as a surprise to me actually. But I tried to describe it and I embellished it a bit, actually a lot, knowing the man would never know what it really looked like. It just appeared one day on his dresser by a staff member who opened his gift and put it there for him. He seemed to get great joy from that description, the biggest lie I eve told and the longest lasting one too. But he loved the story and enjoyed the music all the more. I could tell that he did. Life just seem to become more real to him. So when I visited Mr. Connaty every day I would describe things to him. I hope I made his life happier. One day I went to see him and he was not there. He had dies in his sleep. I was devastated. I guess I just never expected that he would die. But he got to see the radio at last, the one which didn’t look at all like the one I described. But I think he understands why I made it up. In reality though, I got so much more out of that friendship than he did. It was a relationship we had that at the time seemed simple, but over 50 years later I still think of him and realized the importance of communication, love loneliness, friendship, stories, and I appreciate sounds and color all the more. Everyone we meet is a special relationship, just like here on this forum.

Yeah, I know I make things up and I’m a jokster and just a little nutty, but this is a true story. Ad real now as it was over 50 years ago. I can still still this kind, gentle, soft spoken man with white hair in my mind everyday., And I miss him. And his radio. That gift of the radio sent to him by an apparent uncaring relative was not about the radio at all. It was a gift that the given will never understand. It was a gift of life, of hope, of love, of sharing and of peace.

Ki

[shelties]

Hi there Kiowa, when I read your post, it brought tears to my eyes. I think you’re an old softy, but perhaps I don’t know you very well, other than your posts on this site. Having read your post about your experience with the older gentleman when you were only 13 years old, really impressed me. For a young boy that age, your ability to provide him with a set of “eyes” to help him “see” his gift was truly your gift to this man. How special that was for him, but even more so for you, that now 50 years? later, you still hold that experience so close to your heart. This man provided you with the insight to find a hidden talent that you have, when in fact, you may never have had another opportunity to do that. I would take that a step further to say that the experience you had in that relationship with him, no doubt helped shape the image you have of yourself today, after all those years. You also will never be able to deny what a soft spot you have in your heart for the things that really matter in life, that of a deep caring for others who cross your path in this world.

You old softy you! Thanks for sharing that story.

Take care.
Lorraine

[KIOWA]

did Shelties actually call me a “softie”. OMG. Don’t let word get out, especially to Greg. Now Greg? He is really the softie. Just love to snuggle up next to him, I don’t mean “I” love to snuggle up to him but, well you know. Better leave this one here although I’m sure Jeanne for sure will comment. Greg, as per his MO (yes, as in Mo, Larry and Curley) will wait till the end of the post to come up with something outstanding, or maybe upstanding. But my thanks for thinking of ma as a softie, I’ll take that as a compliment. Won;t stop me from being a goofbot though. Native American heritage, what can I say.

Ki

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