Richard Rayner, MD
I learned that she was several years senior to her third husband. She was a diligent disciple of the running/walking era of the late 1970’s. She prided herself on the distances she could put in along the scenic Susquehanna River. She definitely valued the benefit to her health she received from these times on the road.
But as a physician still fairly early in his career, I was puzzled by the fact that she invested so much in that. Yet she seemed to ignore the obvious detrimental habits and conditions that threatened her long term well-being. I listened attentively making attempts to treat the things that were endangering her for the long term – a bit too much alcohol, bit too high blood pressure. Nothing extreme or heavily concerning for the immediate future, but conditions that would have effect over the decades to come.
I confess when discussing these seeming contradictions I would internally feel very self-righteous and proud that I did not carry out the same infractions.
If I’m really honest, I judged her to be rather superficial. Traveling the world, eating fine food, supporting the orchestra, and volunteering at local arts events, were all things that filled her life. Although I enjoyed these things myself, I wondered if they were for her more a badge of honor. Mostly though, I realized that these thoughts rose out of my feeling put off by her resistance to the care I was attempting to give. I saw through the busyness to the anxiety that plagued her, but couldn’t get her to engage in addressing it.
Just when I was about to write her off, at least in my heart, she shocked me, and my view not only of her, but of others like her, was forever changed.
She came in one day a little bit more open and more honestly anxious. I could tell that something was distinctly different about her. As I inquired of the current status of her life, she began to relate the story of tragedy that had struck her sister, who apparently was her closest relative and someone she loved dearly.
She told the story of her sister’s diagnosis of a brain tumor that she would not survive. She had been receiving standard care and had progressed nicely for a while. However as often sadly happens with this condition the tide was turning and the tumor’s growth was outpacing the treatment. She had taken it as her vocation to care for her sister and even moved her into her own house.
As days turned into weeks, her sister’s physical coordination deteriorated, and disturbingly so did her mental functioning. Disoriented at times, she began to resemble someone with dementia. But sisterly love and care was being shared in that uptown Harrisburg home. Randi’s sister’s confusion reached a peak when one day Randi discovered that her sister had had a bowel movement but couldn’t remember how to deal with it. So skipping the use of toilet paper, she managed to get the excrement all over herself and her room. In total disbelief Randi reflexively exclaimed, “What are you doing?!” Like a confused toddler, her sister looked at her innocently, simply stating, “I didn’t know what to do.”
Randi’s life changed at that moment, and in her retelling her story to me, so did mine. She realized she was in deep, and would need to deal with all that came with her sister’s condition. Although she had never had children of her own, she was instantly transformed to status of mother of an adult toddler. No longer could her sister be left alone. Diaper briefs followed. Constant vigilance akin to what mothers must give to their little ones was required. Only in this case the “child” would not grow out of it. Things would go in reverse. The only thing that would mature would be the tumor itself.
I was wrong about Randi. Yes, she was insecure and anxious and resistant to change. Yes she was in denial about the detrimental effects of some of her choices. In my career I have found that all people share those characteristics to some degree or another, myself included. However, she showed up when it mattered. Helpless, sick, racked with a disease that was killing her physically and robbing her mentally, her sister fell into the loving arms of the only one she had who could do it. Randi cared for her sister well, to the very end.
No doubt Randi herself was transformed by the process she had gone through. As suffering does its work in a patient, the onlookers are changed by it too. The easier, nicer things of life take on a different meaning. We recognize more easily the superficial things, and appreciate significantly more the things that go well when we’ve labored through a long term struggle.
While her sister lost the battle against the tumor, Randi won the prize that can’t be seen: a rich love realized through self-sacrifice and deepened through the commitment demonstrated day in and day out through the entire ordeal.
If you’re in the middle of a story like Randi’s, press on! Your care is invaluable and even when you know the end will not be what you want, embrace the depth of character that will come as you labor selflessly. If you are an observer of this process, I encourage you to be as supportive as possible, realizing that you cannot fully know what the caregiver is experiencing.
But don’t wait for tragedy to learn what I learned. Long before anything like this comes to your friend or family member, try to look beyond the annoyances of that person who tends to rub you the wrong way. Try to look deeper than what you see on the outside. Ask good questions of them, find out what lies under the external image. Listen first, listen well. Sometimes confrontation does need to happen if there have been offenses, but check your motives.
I believe that in the court of human relationship Randi helped me move a bit further towards being a co-defendant, and away from the judgment stand.
