Small Heroes

I read my own writing here. Some of the stories I find banal (due to poor ideas) and others, with a bit more work aren't half bad. As I re-read these little stories, I'm struck with the cynical tone in a lot of them. Is this a surprise to me really?  Well...no. In college, others noticed my humor was “caustic” due to it's being sardonic and black. But, I've already written on that subject on why I came to enjoy that.

There have been on occasions, where I did see people acting like heroes. They were naturally unselfish and helped to weaken that cynicism I can honor a bit too much at times.

One day, while working in my old healthcare job, I was walking down to one of the wings when I saw some people clotting up the hallway...sigh...again. I stopped to wait instead of pushing my way through them to solve some petty problem that in the long run, meant nothing. You see, corporate culture can treat every problem, no matter how small, as an impending disaster never known to mankind before. If you don't solve it RIGHT NOW, all will be lost.

I patiently waited while the nurses and the CNA's were trying to calm down a man with Alzheimer's. I paid little attention to his worries, as you sort of get numb to all the irritations and anxieties these people can pull up from a long forgotten past that doesn’t exist now. Battle field surgeons have that numbness, after seeing so much blood and gore, it doesn't effect you at all after a while.

Alzheimer's has, for years, been given over to humor. The old jokes about some senile old geezer forgetting just what a toilet is for can make anyone laugh. But, see it up close and in person, you see just how completely destructive it is...and not so much of a joke anymore.

The old dude in his wheelchair was tearing, going on that he “couldn't find his Mom”. Ok, I say to myself, here's another Alzheimer's one. But as he kept calling out for her, it started to get under my skin. I at one time knew what it meant to lose your parents in a store or whatnot and the instant fear that brings on. I no longer saw an old man in that chair but a scared silly five year old boy.

Finally, one of the CNA's just darted out the side door to the front parking lot, and for what reason at the time I didn't know. She comes back with a large, blue and purple stuffed bunny rabbit doll. She puts it into his hands saying;

“Your Mom told me to give this to you, she said she loves you very much.”

The CNA then quietly says to me, “It's my son's toy, it's been in the back seat of my car forever...”

The guy's Mom has been long since gone for god knows how long. It didn't matter, in his mind he was a kid and Mom had sent him a toy. He held it, stopped crying and started to brighten up quickly.

Guys won't admit to emotion publicly. And I swear in a lot of cases they have no idea how to handle it when it does come up. They just put on a stone face and shut down, hoping no one forces them to admit or be forced to display any of it. God forbid the spotlight shines on you and you're the center of attention during some heart wrenching scene.

I'm not disparaging those guys. I understand it. You can't know what you've never been taught. And yet, they do know... but just not how to lower the radar/defense screen enough to allow it.

What did I display? Nothing. Life went on and I retrieved some equipment from the cellar that would solve the stupid problem. What did get to me was the CNA's answer to the old man.

My cynicism melted a bit that day. There are people out there who do help soak up life's pain, someone else's pain, immediately and expecting no compensation.