The wisdom and wealth of our elderly

In my endoscopy room, my last patient arrives on her stretcher, her hospital gound is stained, her blanket is at her feet, her arms are covered in bruises and her hair is immobilised by an oily substance.

As she stares into space, I dare ask her what exam she is here for.  She doesn't have a clue and doesn't seem curious to know either.  She talks a lot and repeats that she arrived in Canada in 1965.  Her husband was polish and she, german. She seems to suffer from dementia.

She keeps repeating herself but I have work to do.  Our days are so busy beyond the work day. ''I came to Canada in 1965'' she says again and her husband was Polish.  And I have to write down her vitals and turn on my scope.  The exam carries to the rythm of her words and when all is done and I remove the blood pressure cuff, she informs me that she came to Canada in 1965.

The orderly starts pushing her stretcher out of the room and I spontaneously ask her ''Tell me your story'', and at that moment, my eyes locked in her blue eyes, those same eyes that have seen the beauty of her village in Germany.  Those eyes that  saw one day,coming home from school, men yelling at her to run away and never come back because war was knocking at the village's door.

Those  eyes saw her parents for the last time as they were being escorted to concentration camps.  She had to leave everything behind, her family, her school, her friends, her comfort, her happiness...  She tells me that she had to go far away and milk cows among strange faces until 1965, the year that she moved to Canada thanks to a program for immigrants.

My eyes are still locked in hers.  She starts crying and tells me that she arrived in Canada all alone, without her family. She then met her Polish husband and finally, she was not longer alone.

They lived happily together until he passed aways 16 years ago.  Her tears are now pouring out and my throat , well it feels tight.  She is all alone.  If she dies, no one will notice her absence.

How many times have I seen a movie inspired from a true story and thought to myself '' If only I could meet this hero and try to get inspired from their strength''.  How many times have I seen a movie from real past events and was left speechless from the hardships our ancestors had to face!

This woman, under her stained gound, cracked lips, made me travel through her big blue eyes.  I heard the men screaming and the kids footsteps running away.  I felt her fright and the emptiness in her shaking and sobbing voice.

Through her eyes, I feel I accessed this turbulent era in history that is only accessible in text books.

Could this dear patient be suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder?  Her gound doesn't serve her justice and contributes to her old demented woman image, but to me, her path is worthy of an inspiring movie and she is the lead actress that overcomes with bravery and resilience one obstacle after the other.

This woman with all her hardships needs to tell her story.  I cannot imagine going through what she has gone through and I thank her for sharing with me a hint of this chapter in history.  I wish to honour her and give her life journey importance with these few lines.  I hope that for the few minutes we spent together, she felt less lonely.

I also wonder if our society sees the wealth and wisdom in our elderly. We have so much to learn from them., resilience amongst them...

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