Rosalie and me

Still in Ohio and hoping my poor car holds up tomorrow through another long drive back to Chicago. It seems to struggle the most in the heat and humidity and it’s supposed to get up into the mid-‘80s with thunderstorms.

This morning I shipped off a new piece for my organization’s Facebook site. I have been writing about different seniors for Older Americans Month. This particular article is about a Jewish woman who I was able to talk to on different occasions about trusting in God's provision of His Son for her sins to gain eternal life in heaven. Rosalie, raised in Hebrew school, was a believer in the God of the Bible and read from her Old Testament often and had bookmarks all through it.

Here’s the article:

There is a bond between younger and older single women that is very special and needed. In my five years with H.O.M.E. I’ve been blessed to have had the friendship of a number of female seniors who were without spouses.

They have encouraged, inspired and molded me, especially by example through their strength amidst adversity (everything from diabetes and arthritis complications to full-blown Alzheimer’s and renal failure). No matter what was going wrong in their own world, they always gave me a caring, attentive ear, wanting to provide me real-life wisdom and guidance. I was just fortunate that I was able to be of help to them too.

With one of these women, 97-year-old Rosalie, I was literally at her bedside, holding her hand just before she stopped breathing and was, minutes later, determined by a hospice nurse to have passed away.

Only a few months earlier I had been in the E.R. with Rosalie just after she’d fallen down in her bedroom and split her head open, losing a tremendous amount of blood for someone as fragile as her. She really thought she was a goner! She even said, half-kidding, "I want to die but not this way."

A week later when I visited her at the nursing home she was sent to for rehab, she really did appear close to death. She was so weak she couldn't even lift her head to show me her new haircut (after they shaved part of her scalp for the stitches). She had trouble keeping even one eye open.

She reminded me that day that she felt a special connection to me from the minute we met and I told her I did too. She then told me again, as she often did, how pretty I was and that I was a beautiful person inside as well as outside.

What I loved about Rosalie was her unique sense of style, spunk, independent fierceness and up-front humor. It was her childlike boldness and honesty that most grabbed the affection of young and old alike.

Perhaps it came from all her clean living—she never drank, smoke or ate junk food and was an avid tennis player into her 70s. She didn’t like swearing and, although a good historian of old movies and old movie stars, cringed at cinematic violence or sex scenes.

In general, Rosalie, who was proud to tell you she attended Hebrew school as a child, had a terrific memory and keen sense of awareness, especially for her age, and was a treasure-trove of facts from the past (none of them glossed over or cleaned up) guaranteed to make you go, “Wow, I had no idea . . .”

By surprise, I recently found in my computer files a report I had written on Rosalie from 2009, when I was a Resident Assistant at the Pat Crowley House. The note from me to the house coordinator read:

“On Friday, Nov. 21, around 8:30 p.m., the intercom was dialed by Rosalie. Upon reaching her on the second floor, as she stood next to the phone in the hallway, she complained of not being able to breathe and shaking uncontrollably. She also said she was perspiring. Upon inquiry, she told me she had never experienced such symptoms before and had no idea what could be wrong.

“As we discussed what action to take, and after I proposed the idea of calling 911, she called her son Earl to get his input. After she handed me the phone, I gave Earl her symptoms, to which he said, “She’s having a panic attack. I’ll come over.”

“I then helped Rosalie return to her bed, at which point I covered her up and sat with her, talking and getting her to talk back. Her symptoms dissipated markedly as we sat together and she was able to even laugh on occasion.

“She continued to complain of shortness of breath and sweating, although I did not find her to be very moist at all after feeling her neck and shoulders. She did appear to be gasping for breath at times, especially when we discussed her symptoms.

 

“Earl arrived approximately 25 minutes later and she was visibly relieved by his appearance. He let me know that he was prepared to sit with her until she felt better, or fell asleep, and I left them alone (as he had indicated he wanted), stressing with them to call me if there was anything I could do to help.

“The next morning, Rosalie complained of being very weak and having an upset stomach. I asked her if she might like chicken noodle soup and a piece of toast for lunch. She came down for lunch and seemed much improved.

“By dinner, she was back to her old self and not complaining of any problems. She had a good appetite and shared in a lively after-dinner conversation about racism against Jews, old movie stars and Chicago history.”