Tragically, Gary Harvey of Horsehead, NY fell down the basement stairs in January of 2006 and received a traumatic head injury. Since that time, he has either been in a nursing home or in the hospital and is under the guardianship of the county. Ironically, the county, who claims to be looking out for their ward’s best interest, was involved in a so-called ethics committee decision that Gary Harvey should be starved and dehydrated to death. The judge over-ruled the call for execution of an innocent man, though a DNR (Do Not Resuscitate) remains in effect. Sara Harvey, Gary’s wife, is desperately fighting to get him home. One can only wonder how much he knows of what is going on around him. The following could be what he is thinking as he lays alone in that room, so isolated from the world he knew and the wife and friends he so loves. * * *
It’s so quiet. I think I hear someone walking down the hall. Do they know I am here? Where is my Sara? Why isn’t she here? I miss her voice and the special sound of her laughter. I miss her gentle touch. The gentle and tender touch that tells me she loves me and that everything is going to be okay. Why can’t I feel that now? Where is she? Why doesn’t she come to see me? Is she tired of me? Am I too big a burden? Is there someone else in her life now? How long have I been here? How many days have passed?
I’m sure of it. I hear someone walking down the hall. Are they coming to see me? Is it Sara? Why do they keep walking by? Don’t they know I’m here? Why doesn’t someone open the door and just say, “hi” and tell me that it is okay? Can’t someone tell me when my Sara will be here? When will she come to see me? I wonder if they would call her, if I ask?
I hear someone again. I hear them walking away. I want to call out. I’m trying to call out. Why can’t I? Why is there only silence? Am I dead?
No, I can’t be. If I were dead, I wouldn’t be able to hear them. I wouldn’t be able to hear their footsteps and the rattling of carts. I wouldn’t be able to hear their laughter and sometimes their whispers. So, why can’t they hear me? Why can’t I hear me? Why are there no sounds beyond the thoughts that ramble and torment? Sara! Sara, why aren’t you here? I need to talk with you. I need to know everything is okay and you still love me. Did I do something wrong? Did I make you hate me so much that you have left me here alone with them? Left me wherever this is? Left me alone to hear the echo of their footsteps and the isolation of such aloneness as I never knew was possible?
Sara, it’s cold here. It’s dark and there is no laughter to touch the moment. There is no you to say we are going home soon and that you love me still. You do love me, don’t you? We will be going home, won’t we? Is that you, Sara? Is that you that I hear walking down the hall? Is that you coming to take me home or to tell me when you shall?
Why are they whispering? Why are they saying I’m gone? I’m not gone. I’m here waiting for you. Sara! Sara, come back! Don’t leave me here. Don’t leave me in this darkness without you. I love you! I’ll always love you! I promise, I will be a better husband, if I wasn’t a good one before. Please, Sara, please don’t leave me here with them. I’m scared. I think they want me to die!
First published on Dakota Voice on August 18th, 2011
Having been a caretaker of a mother struck down by a stroke and left paralyzed and without speech, it’s reassuring to having someone to be not only their voice but to be there for companionship. While my mother was hospitalized, the only time hospital staff would enter her room was at the beginning and end of their shift. To be abandoned day after day is not the way to alleveate someone’s fears and anxieties about their well-being. Luckily, I was able to be with her during the visiting hours and then brought her home for her final days instead of once again ignored in a nursing home bed until her passing. Human contact is absolutely necessary to feel that a person is still worth living.
I’m so very sorry about your mom’s passing. Yes, you are so right about human contact being absolutely necessary. I’m sure your mom truly appreciated all that you did for her. If only all could be as lucky to have the comfort like you were able to provide for your mom.
It was about 40 years ago when my Mom had a severe seizure & was in a coma. Every time I visited she was alone. I asked & was told I had just showed up at a time when somebody had just left. When Mom awakened, I moved her to another hospital that specialized in continuous care. She was diagnosed with brain cancer, and they removed a sizable portion of her right brain. She could only say a few words and had paralysis on her right side & a bit on the left. She lived 7 1/2 years in that hospital. They had several hairdressers who came in once a week & washed & styled the patient’s hair. The nurses would always put lipstick on her every morning. They would dress the women with new hospital gowns on Mother & Fathers Day. They even had small corsages. My Mom could understand and respond non-verbally to almost everything. I never saw her depressed and I owe that to the amazing staff who lovingly cared for her. I have a Daughter who became an RN & she trained for a while at this same hospital. I was very happy to find out it hasn’t changed a bit. I pray that it becomes contagious. Every living thing needs recognition to stay alive!
I’m sorry your mom had to endure cancer and the results thereafter, but it is uplifting to hear about the facility and the people who cared for her. Oh yes, wouldn’t it be wondrous if such care and compassion were to become contagious?!?!
Cathy Toms: You do know that this was written as a possible thought process for Gary. Sara hasn’t abandoned him. Never would. Sara loves him very much. He was virtually kidnapped and taken from her care, and her life, almost totally. He is a victim of Guardianship Abuse. Or I should say, they are both victims. She has tried for years to gain back custody of her husband. But crooked politicians in her area prevent that from happening. Their story is truly sad.