Life is Bittersweet - Ego Integrity vs. Despair

I was getting ready to do my "thing" with the elders of Brookside early this morning when I felt a sudden jolt of sharp pain shoot through my ankle on the way up the stairs. Hence, I've been virtually useless for the rest of the day as all my plans were forfeited. I don't know what exactly triggered it other than perhaps overuse - I took a very lengthy walk out in the Flint Hills Nature Trail yesterday, then jumped right into a heavy workout with an exercise group I'm a part of.

In the meantime, during my evening nature walk, I was disheartened to see that virtually every last Autumn leaf has lost its brilliance. Gone is the magical season of Morning Glories, Sunflowers, Sumac, Prairie Aster, Daisies, Goldenrod, Flowering Trumpet Vines, Queen Anne's Lace, and so forth.

Notwithstanding, the Bittersweet Berry prevails, outshining and outlasting the rest of its counterparts. Perhaps it's to remind us of the bittersweet transition from autumn to winter. Bitter that we must say good-bye to what's beautiful, and sweet that we have the memory.

The same holds true with life. Those of us who are blessed to live through the Spring, Summer, and Autumn seasons of life, must eventually move on into Winter. It's bittersweet, but more bitter for some than others. Some, particularly in long-term care settings who lament over their uselessness, their losses, their invisibleness.

"I'm nothing more than a number on that medical cart," one gentleman said to me the other day.

"Do you want me to agree with you?" I countered. "Because if you do, I won't."

This was his conclusion after he insisted that his entire life's work was worth nothing now and that none of it mattered. Trying to convince him that the ice cream businesses that he ran, which provided multitudes of customers many moments of pleasure, seemed an exercise in futility. The man was holding on to his story that nothing mattered now and that nobody cares.

"I care," I persisted. "If I didn't, I wouldn't be sitting here with you having this conversation."

I resolved our time together by offering to pray with him, an offer he didn't refuse.

"Thanks," he replied. "I can tell you care."

We parted with a hug.

So, what about all those who feel their lives no longer matter? I wrestle with this each time I encounter an individual like that gentleman.

At best, we can recruit more volunteers to invest their time into validating, comforting, conversing with, or providing meaningful one-to-one activities with those who can no longer do for themselves.

We can invest more time and money in staff training, encouraging direct care workers to provide more than just physical care. We can help steer the despairing resident who is tempted to dismiss his life as meaningless, toward a place of ego integrity and resolve. Or sometimes, we can simply offer a prayer and a hug.

Some may wonder why some keep on living, though seemingly useless to the rest of the world. I concur that it's not always about us. Perhaps their uselessness provides purpose for another. And so it goes. . .

Life is bittersweet. And that's just the way it is.

Kareen King is a Registered Drama Therapist and founder of The Golden Experience, offering keynotes, concerts, and workshops to enrich lives in long-term care. For booking information, contact her at kking@thegoldenexperience.com or visit www.thegoldenexperience.com.