June, a 67 year old woman on our hospice program for lung cancer that had metastasized to her bones, was in tremendous pain, both physical and spiritual. The physical pain was due to the cancer, the spiritual pain due to the hole in her soul. She’d had several failed marriages and her three children hadn’t grown to be the successful individuals she’d hoped for. Her oldest daughter, Julie, wasn’t allowed inside her home because she would steal anything she could, including money and the drugs we prescribed for her mother. June had custody of Julie’s three year old son due to Julie being confined in prison for drug abuse and grand theft. Now she was out but apparently hadn't been rehabilitated.
June’s second daughter, Betty, lived with her, along with Betty’s two young sons. Betty also had a criminal record and was on house arrest for one month during the year I was seeing June. Her arrest was for forging checks. The Judge decided on house arrest so she could supervise her two sons and care for her mom. Betty was a pleasant though ineffective caregiver. She probably had attention deficit disorder and didn’t understand the instructions I gave her on how to care for her mom. When Betty’s charming and handsome husband, Eric, was released from prison after his most recent stay, he also moved into the house. Betty’s attention then turned to keeping Eric happy, and she did little to care for her mom.
After much prodding from me and the hospice social worker, the family contacted their brother, Mark, who lived in Alaska. Mark arrived along with his girlfriend, Debbie, and moved into the house with all the rest of the family.
I arranged a meeting with Mark for the day after his arrival. When the door opened, I was greeted by a bear of a man with the most beautiful blue eyes I’d ever seen. They didn’t look like they belonged on this man, but if the eyes are the windows to the soul; I was soon to learn this man’s soul was as beautiful as his eyes. His gray hair was long and stringy, rather thin on top, and a huge gray beard that hung halfway down his chest. It stopped at his enormous belly that looked as if he had a full term baby inside. He was fond of going without a shirt and the sight of his huge stomach and tattooed arms took a bit of getting used to.
However, Mark was a natural caregiver. He cooked for his mom, fed her when she couldn’t eat, took her to the bathroom, bathed and kept her in clean clothing and bed linens. He monitored her medications carefully and kept them under lock and key. Though he had spent time in prison on drug charges and was currently on parole, there were never any drugs missing once Mark took over his mom’s care.
Many times I would arrive to find Mark grieving over the impending loss of his mom and the many regrets over the choices he’d made in life. On those days, tears would fill his blue eyes and pour down his cheeks once they’d dropped off his long, curly black eyelashes. All I saw when I looked at him were his eyes and what lay behind them. I knew the rest of the world would probably never get to know what a tender, loving man he really was.
One day I arrived for my visit and Mark answered the door wearing sunglasses. After a few minutes, he asked me to take a look at his eye, saying it was bothering him. When he took the glasses off, I gasped at the sight of his formerly blue left eye that was now completely black. On closer inspection, I found that his pupil was completely dilated. He denied injuring it and when I pressed, he finally confessed he’d put his mother’s “eye drops” in his eye since it was irritating him. Puzzled, I asked him to show me the eye drops. He came back with the bottle of Atropine eye drops, clearly labeled with his mother’s name and the directions for her to take the drops orally for congestion, which is standard practice for hospice patients. Atropine is normally used to dilate the eye for eye exams, but we use it to dry up excessive secretions when people are dying. Knowing that there wouldn’t be any permanent damage to Mark’s eye, I burst out laughing before I gave him the lecture about never using someone else’s medications. I then went on to explain that his pupil would eventually go back to the normal size but it would probably take several days and he’d need to wear the sunglasses until then. Relieved, he finally smiled a sheepish grin. When I visited the next week, his pupil had indeed returned to normal size.
Several times during the months Mark cared for his mom, I wrote letters to the Judge in Alaska to whom he was supposed to report during his parole, telling him about what a good job Mark was doing and how much he was needed in California. I never heard back from the Judge, but he didn’t order Mark back to Alaska, so apparently my letters worked. I wonder now where Mark is and how his life is going. He was truly a special person hidden behind a burly, and pretty intimidating façade. This big grizzly bear man was really a teddy bear underneath.
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