John Dies Leaving Secrets

I get a call from a social worker from the hospital. Through the open door of John's trailer a neighbor saw John lying on the floor. They were having trouble keeping John in the hospital, he had tried to crawl out and had been restrained. He had given them my name and they had tracked me down. He trusted me to bring him his wallet and his money and check his trailer. Could I meet the social worker at his trailer? I agreed to meet her and we set up a time. But it was snowing that morning so I walked over and the social worker didn't come. I left a note on the door with my phone number on it for her to call in case she came later.

The next day Meals on Wheels called, would John be needing meals? They'd read the note on my door. The snow kept me home so I didn't visit John. Then it was Thanksgiving Weekend and we took the train to Portland to visit my mother. By the time I was able to visit John in the hospital, he could no longer speak. But the social worker hoped that I could get him to give permission for hospice care.  He was agitated when he saw me and wouldn't focus on the social worker so she left. Then he tried to get out of bed. He probably thought I could take him home. There was only an aide by his bed to help calm him down, so I left feeling unqualified to help him.


A couple of days later a social worker called me from the nursing home where the hospital placed John, and asked if I could sign John up for hospice. I was the only contact listed for him. I'd never been able to get any personal information from him so I didn't know anyone in his family who was still alive. The social worker told me she didn't think John would make it through the night and they wanted to offer him comfort. I finally told her, if I were the only one that could sign, I would. I couldn't let John die without comfort, but it would put me in an awkward position at work. She called back and told me I wouldn't have to sign. She talked it over with the supervisor and they would accept a not from John's doctor saying he would agree to hospice care.

The next afternoon a case manager from the nursing home John had been placed in called, John had died that morning, could I come and pick up John's keys and possessions? He said he could just turn them over the trailer park manager, I told him to call the case manager and give him the name and number. I also tell him John did have money and there is a file cabinet and probably the information he needs is in it. A nice young woman from the funeral home calls next, do I know how John wants to be buried? By now I'm wishing I could go over and take a few bills from John's hidden cache. No, but I know there is file cabinet in his home, if they could go there, they could look it up.

I went to Interfaith Clinic to leave a message for Chris, case manager who was kind and concerned about him. I forgot to bring in the last of the lancets so I go back out to my car. Chris comes running toward me and thanks me for letting him know. He also says, "don't feel bad, John lived the way he wanted to."

I wonder when I'm going to start living the way I want to?

One last note:  When I was in California on my way to my son's house over Christmas vacation I got a call from my supervisor who told me a cousin of John's had called the office and asked to speak to me.  When I called her back she wanted to know how John had spent his last few years. Who were his friends? I didn't have much to offer, I'd never met any. I asked her who had finally gotten a hold of her. She told me the man who owned the land that John's trailer sat on had finally gone to John's trailer to look at the files.  He also told her he was to meet a brother of the funeral home director and a friend there. When he got there the other two men had entered the trailer and the contents of his safe on the floor ! She told me she would fly over the Christmas break and see what John had. She would call me and let me know. She never called me back.

A final note: A couple of weeks later I was in the elevator visiting another client and the woman from Meals on Wheels who had delivered John his meals got in next to me carrying a bag of dog food. She recognized me and told me she had also visited John. When she was there the man in the bed next to his overheard them talking about John's dog, Jake, an old scruffy mutt, and offered to take the dog. For me that was the ending I needed to close John's chapter, someone caring about the old and scruffy.