GOD CLOSES A DOOR

I found out that the gallery was closing.  I would soon have a lot of time on my hands and was a little worried about what I would do with it.  In previous months, I would have been really distressed, but lately, I had felt restlessness in my heart that I couldn’t explain.  I knew that I wouldn’t miss the job nearly as much as I would miss the people who came inform day to day, sharing their lives with me and then moving on.     

I was getting ready to close for the day, when I heard the familiar “shave and a haircut” rap that was Philip, Rosalee’s husband.  I had to move quickly to open the door, because since Philip is profoundly deaf, he couldn’t hear my call of “Just a minute!” and would have been back on the elevator before it left the floor.     

His usually laughing blue eyes were clouded with worry as he told me that Rosalee was in the hospital.  She had requested “an audience” with me if I were able to come.  She was putting her affairs in order, and wanted to give me a few things.     

I hadn’t heard from her since the day she had told me she was dying.  I expected to see a very sick person, but she seemed as vibrant and full of energy as ever.  Her sister and son (from a previous marriage) were in attendance.  The doctor had just given them the news that he could do no more for Rosalee and he was recommending Hospice Care.  Rosalee wanted to go home, but her son and sister were pressuring her to go to the same Jewish continuing care facility that she had previously managed.  Philip was down in the cafeteria, and didn’t know what was going on upstairs.    

I tried to leave, since I felt a little out of place in the situation and felt that her husband should be there, but Rosalee asked me to stay and sent her son and sister down to get Philip.  As soon as they were out of the room, she said, “I want to go home, but they won’t let me.  They don’t think Philip is capable of caring for me.  I just don’t know anything anymore.  I’m not afraid of dying, but I am afraid of leaving Philip.  Help Philip to understand.”    

Philip came up and I went home.  The next day, he emailed me that Rosalee was being moved to the Jewish facility.  Hospice care would be administered there.  He was heartbroken.  I went to see her there the next day.  She was chatting with all her former employee’s who were treating her like a queen.  After she shooed them all out the door, she said, “I wish I could be home.  Just for a few hours.  There is so much I want to do there.  I just want to be with Philip….”    

After our visit, I went to the car.  Praying through tears for Philip and Rosalee, I prayed for guidance and God’s will.  My pain was replaced by peace as I drove back to the gallery to turn in my keys without feeling sadness or loss, but with the knowledge that from now on, my days would be filled with purpose and direction.    

I went home and logged onto the computer.  My niece and mother had both received Hospice care back in Indiana.  I was curious to see if the options were the same in New Jersey.  They were.  Hospice could be given in hospitals and nursing homes or in private homes when a capable caregiver was present and the home could be made to accommodate the patient’s needs.     

I immediately emailed Philip with the information, and he flew into action.  He cleared out the apartment and friends joined me in scrubbing, disinfecting and anticipating any possible nursing supply needs.  The social worker was invited to inspect the premises which passed with flying colors.  Rosalee was brought home within two days, waving regally to her admiring public (all the neighbors) as they applauded and cheered.  The hospice nurse and aides were in place and her journey toward Home began.

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