PATIENT: I remember D.F., who was driven frantic by the bare
walls he looked at in his room,
which were very unattractive. And this same nurse who doesn't want to give you medication
brought him some beautiful pictures of Switzerland. And we pasted them on his walls. When he
died, before he died he asked her to give them to me. I had come in to see him a few times and I
made them into pictures because I realized how much they had meant to him. And so in every room,
I mean eve, this nineteen-year-old girl's mother who stayed with her day after day, she brought me
the cardboard and we made them and we put them on. We didn't ask the supervisor's
permission but
we used this kind of tape that doesn't ruin walls, you know. And I think she resented it. I think there
is very much red tape in this place. I know that beautiful scenery can remind, must remind other
people of life and living, if not of God. I can actually see God in nature very much. This is what 1
mean, you wouldn't be that much alone if you had something that would make you a part of life.
This meant that much to D.F. To S., she was surrounded by flowers and the phone calls, and the
visitors
that were allowed to see her, the girl friends that came, and I think that if they had all been
sent out because she was so critically ill, it would have bothered her very
(P60)
much. She seemed to be alive when a visitor was with her, even when she was in intense pain. She
couldn't talk to them either, you know. I think of her, you see. My Sisters
only come once a week
and sometimes they don't come at all. And so I have received most of my company from the
visitors or the patients I have visited and this has helped me a lot. When I am in tears or depressed I
know I have to do something to stop thinking about myself and whether I am in pain or not I have
to drag myself to somebody else, to concentrate on them. And then I can forget my problems...
DOCTOR: What happens to you when you can't do this anymore?
PATIENT: Then I am-then I need people and then they don't come.
DOCTOR: Well, that's something, you know, where we can help.
PATIENT: Yes. But it hasn't ever happened. (Crying) '°i
DOCTOR: But it's going to happen. That's one of the purposes.
CHAPLAIN: You mean it hasn't ever happened that they have come? When you needed them?
PATIENT: Only a tiny bit. Like when I said, when people are sick they stay away from you. You
know, they think you don't want to talk, even though you can't respond,
even if they just sit there,
you'd know you wouldn't be alone. I mean, this would be ordinary visitors. If people would have to
see this, and if it's someone who isn't screechy about praying, if they could just gently say the
Lord's Prayer with you, which you haven't been able to say for days yourself because you say "Our
Father" and then the rest is all confused, you know. You are again reminded of something that has a
meaning. You see, if I haven't anything to give to people, they leave me. You know,
if I can give to
people, but there's plenty of people who don't realize how much I need.
DOCTOR: True. (Mixed conversation.)
PATIENT: And I do receive from them when I'm not critically ill.
I do receive a lot but my need isn't as great then.
DOCTOR: Your need is much greater when you stop being able to give.
PATIENT: Yes, and each time I get ill, I'll worry a lot about the finances, how much it costs and
another time I'll worry about if I'll have my job when I get back. And another time I'll worry
if this is, you know, I'm going to be chronically ill and be always depending. Each time something
different, you know, comes up so I always have some need.
DOCTOR: What happens in your outside life? I know nothing about your background or really
how you live. What happens to you when you are not able to work?
Then does the church support
you or the place where you work now or your family? Who does?
PATIENT: Oh, sure they do. I've been hospitalized in our own hospital three times. Once during
the night I had so much pain I couldn't breathe. I went down the hall and knocked on one of the
nurse's door and she brought me over and gave me a hypo and then they just decided to leave me in
the infirmary. This is the Sisters' infirmary. Only the Sisters can go there and it's so darn lonely in
that place. You see, there's no television or radio, this isn't part of our life. Except on an educational
basis at times and if people don't come in I need these things. And none of these things are
presented to you and I have talked this over with my doctor so as soon as
the pain has left and I can
bear it, then he discharges me, knowing that psychologically I need people. And if I can go to my
own room and lay down and dress four or five times a day completely and come down to meals, at
least I feel a part of life. I don't feel that lonely. Even though I often have to sit in church, not being
able to pray because I don't feel well, but I'm with the others. See what I mean?
DOCTOR: Yes. Why do you think loneliness is so dreadful to you?
PATIENT: I think, no, I don't think I dread loneliness because there are times when I need to be
alone. I don't mean this. But unless I connect it with being
abandoned in this situation, I'm not
going to be able to help myself. It would be okay if I felt adequate enough, not to need people. But
I, it isn't dying alone, it's the torture that pain can give you, like you just want to tear your hair out.
You don't care if you don't bathe for days because it's just so much effort, like you're becoming less
a human being.
CHAPLAIN: A certain sense of dignity she'd want to maintain as long as she could.
PATIENT: Yes, and I can't do this alone at times.
DOCTOR: You know, you put this so much in words what we have been doing here for this whole
year and what, we have attempted to do in many ways. I think you really put it in words.
PATIENT: You still want to be a person. (Doctor: A human being.)