by RACHEL HAYNIE

Being a registered nurse was a calling for me, but when I stepped into the role of primary caregiver for my 96-year-old grandfather, my life changed forever. I was working tirelessly, graveyard shifts every weekend, in the emergency department. My grandfather, a widower whom we lovingly called “Poppy Pop,” had moved from his Chapel Hill home he built for his family in 1967 to a local assisted living facility. Over the next year, Poppy Pop’s health began to decline, and he suffered a number of falls within a short period of time. At each hospital stay, I became increasingly frustrated watching from the sidelines as other medical professionals cared for him. With years of experience in nearly every area of the inpatient hospital, my gut feeling was that he deserved better. A protective instinct emerged from inside of me, advocating that he should be discharged to my home where I could care for him. When divulging my intentions to my hospital supervisor, a reprimanded response, “you can’t do that,” only fueled my motivation to do exactly what I knew I should and could. For more than two decades, I had sacrificed nights, weekends and holidays away from my husband and children to care for others. The motivation for me to finally make my own family and my Poppy Pop my priority was overwhelming.

Just two days after his last major surgery, the ambulance arrived at my home where we lifted his frail body from the stretcher to the newly placed hospital bed, amongst a sea of medical equipment in the sunroom of my home. Nothing could have prepared me for the journey ahead. I devised care plans and schedules, planned and cooked special meals, managed medications and went to doctor’s appointments. I changed, shaved, bathed and washed day in and day out. Yet those tasks contrasted with invaluable moments in time – watching old westerns and favorite shows, reading from my grandmother’s journals, playing checkers, putting together puzzles and listening repeatedly to stories of the past. I laughed, cried, reflected on life and developed new understandings, deeper appreciations and a new perspective on life. Simultaneously, the accomplishment of nursing Poppy Pop back to a reasonable state of physical health made me feel validated in my decisions and motivation. 

My heart began to break as I gradually learned that, despite my persistent efforts, he would never fully recover. The weeks rolled by and, regardless of what cuisine I created just for Poppy Pop, his appetite continued to dwindle. My sweet grandfather, my hero, was withering away to nothing right before my very own eyes. His body steadily declined to a state I never imagined would come so soon, and I was not prepared. Despite the tender loving care provided by my family and me, I watched, feeling helpless and incapable as my Poppy Pop transitioned from this life. I was broken. I had not only lost a best friend, but felt I had failed, as well. It was time to step away from the calling I had loved for more than two decades. Months later, when I was first introduced to Seniors Helping Seniors, I could not fully appreciate the significance of the gifts I had both given and received during those last months of my grandfather’s life. The opportunity to work with the Seniors Helping Seniors® team restored my confidence in humanity and in nursing. The uniqueness of providing services for Seniors by Seniors taught me that caregiving isn’t always about helping someone get better but rather be better. Through genuine acts of like-minded individuals, both the caregiver and client gain independence, enrichment, quality of life, and a brighter future. Regardless of how long that future may be, through shared moments in time, mature, active caregivers beautifully exemplify dignity, empowerment and respect with clients and their families. In honor of Poppy Pop, I am committed to creating mutually beneficial and enriching relationships through my work with Seniors Helping Seniors Winston West services to others.