She was pushing a hand cart on the sidewalk, small, thin and walking slowly and awkwardly. She was old, perhaps in her eighties. She was staggering a bit and I noticed she was not using her right arm suggesting a possible stroke survivor. Just as she passed me she lost her balance and I grabbed her before she could fall.
With her permission I walked with her, taking slow small steps, my arm spread just behind her back in case she would lose her balance again. We stopped at a bus stop where she rested on a bench. A Russian woman seated next to the old woman dropped her small boy who fell on his head onto the sidewalk. She lost her temper as the boy's crying subsided, as though blaming him for falling out of her lap.
The old woman and I resumed walking, slowly. I was asking her all the necessary questions: did she have family? No. Friends? No. Was she connected with any volunteer organizations to support her? Yes, several. Churches? Ditto.
She lives alone in her apartment. She is frail, very old and partially disabled from childhood polio. She is also proud, stubborn and independent...up to a point. She is a regular visitor at a local neighbourhood mental health drop-in centre. I know this place and that to be there one must be a member and to be a member one must be living with a diagnosed mental illness.
When the old woman asked why I seem so good at helping people I told her the truth. I have worked with people struggling with mental illness for more than a decade, two years with homeless people, more than a dozen years as a home support worker caring for house bound, elderly, disabled, chronically ill and people who are dying. That was when she asked me the worst possible question.
She wanted me to come into her apartment with her. She wanted me to be her friend. She wanted my phone number. I thought carefully. Here I was doing my duty as a citizen, as a decent human being, as a Christian. I was not looking for a new friend, I only was responding to the need of a vulnerable person in my reach. I have not lately been able to give money charitably. Early this month I had to replace my lost monthly bus pass, putting me out an extra ninety-one dollars. In order to compensate for the loss of funds, and to learn my lesson well by keeping my bus pas at all times in a safe part of my wallet, I have opted out of giving money to my church, to beggars and the food bank. I have promised instead to do more acts of kindness. The opportunity is never far away.
I saw her as far as the front door of her building and went no further with her. Even though I am a complete gentleman with no ulterior motives for me it would have felt inappropriate to visit in her home a vulnerable old woman I'd just met on the sidewalk. I did not want to reinforce such a reckless trust in strangers. I did give her my work number, since in the evenings I don't even want my close friends to phone me. I'm usually too tired and too in need of rest before my next work day.
I am also conscious of how one-sided the friendship would be. I would be her object of need. I have been in these situations before and I am not making myself vulnerable again. I recall once in my early twenties when an old woman stopped to talk with me in my neighbourhood. She wanted me to move into a room upstairs in her house and take care of her. I backed away and terrified had to stop myself from running away home. This ended up happening anyway and I spent four years living with a woman the same age as my father, propping her up in more ways than I would care to write here.
Of course I am exaggerating. A whole series of strange circumstances threw us together. She paid the rent. I paid the groceries with my scant employment income, did chores around the place and just wanted to get out of there. I eventually was set free. She had found other housing in a seniors' apartment and I found my own apartment. We remained friends until I underwent psychiatric treatment, became strong and basically immune to being manipulated. Then she dropped me like the proverbial hot potato. She is dead now. I have also forgiven her.
The old woman has not called me yet and I don't expect to hear from her. I think she already knows that I am not going to be available on demand. I also believe she'll be okay. According to her there are a number of people supporting her. I just am not sure how much she appreciates what she already has. I also hope that as I age while living alone without family that I will be able to maintain a healthy sense of community with others in my life and that I will never fail to appreciate and be grateful for what I already have.
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