The other day I was listening to a sermon on Christian radio (BBN) and when the pastor spoke these words, “Do not put off until later the things you need to do now,” I thought about Frances. *

She was one of the very first patients I cared for after graduating from nursing school and beginning my career in a long-term care facility. Frances was petite and frail with a crown of curly white hair. Her skin appeared as thin as parchment, revealing a network of purple veins. Physically and mentally, she was wearing out. Because she was a fall-risk – meaning she would not stay in the bed and could not walk on her own – she spent most of her time in a low-bed placed in the corner of the room she shared with another resident. She hardly ever spoke, but she frequently cried. Sometimes the tears were accompanied only by soft sobs. Occasionally, loud, eerie moans were interspersed with a longing plea…J-a-m-e-s, J-a-m-e-s.

Beside her bed was a “fall mat” to protect her from injuries when she managed to wiggle herself out of bed. She did this frequently, and each time her bed alarm would sound, alerting the staff. Whoever was closest would rush into the room. Her roommate would be uttering under her breath, “Not again,” and Frances would be emitting wails that were almost as shrill as the alarm.

She was so tiny; whoever got to her first would call for assistance and together they would carefully place her fragile body back in the bed, tend to her needs, and attempt to make her comfortable…and comfort her. This seemed to be an impossible task.

Frances – to my knowledge – never had a visitor. I learned from her chart that she had a son, James,* who lived out of state – about 500 miles away. As I was required to notify the next-of-kin (in this situation, the only kin) when there was a change in condition, a skin tear, a new medication etc., there were many opportunities to talk to James. He was pleasant enough; rather matter of fact. The first time I mentioned that his mom cried out a lot and sometimes called his name, he responded, “Oh, I know I need to visit but I’m so busy with my job just now.” 

I took care of Frances for a little over a year. The last few months she declined quickly, and there were numerous calls to her son. Because she had dementia, he balked at the idea of speaking to her on the phone, even when I told him she did not have much time left. 

“She still cries out for you, frequently,” I advised. 

“Oh, I know I need to visit but…”

Finally, I met James and his wife. It was just about ten minutes after Frances took her last breath.

“We really tried to get here in time to see her…” he explained. (I started to write “lamented”, but his words were not spoken in a tone of sorrow or even regret. Just an explanation.)

I do not know the dynamics of their family relationship, but I do know Frances spent the last few months of her life crying out for a son who did not get there in time. 

Our world is in a sad state just now. People are hurting, depressed, sick, dying. We cannot meet everyone’s needs; but we should strive to care for those God has placed in our lives. Whether an estranged family member, an old friend, or a grouchy neighbor, do not continue to put off those loving words, heartfelt apologies, or long-overdue visits that have been calling you. Over and over in your mind, you have said, “Oh, I need to…”

Yes, you do. Now.

Caring quote: You may delay, but time will not.”  Benjamin Franklin

*Names have been changed.