The stories that follow are about people facing problems of aging and chronic illness and the volunteers who help ease their way. In most of these stories, we have changed the names to protect privacy. Where we use full names, it is with permission. 

Mark is approaching 80, sharp of mind and with a good sense of humor, but with a case of multiple sclerosis that, in recent years, has left him unable to move his legs. His wife, Mary, in her mid-70s, takes care of him with the help of a part-time paid caregiver who is there weekdays. Two SELCFIA volunteers join her, on different days, to provide some respite – and to assist with the Hoyer lift they use to get him in and out of bed.

One of the volunteers, who helps regularly on Saturday mornings and sometimes on other days, says, “One day, we took him to the dentist and used straps to get him in the car. ‘They keep me from running away,’ Mark joked as we strapped him in.

“Another time, at a garage sale, his wife told him, ‘I need you to stay right here.’ He replied, wryly, ‘Then I won’t move.’” The volunteer says the couple has tried on a number of occasions to thank him with cash. “I’ve told them I don’t want money, but they’ve insisted, so I’ve asked them to send it to FIA.”

The other volunteer, who stops by on Tuesday evenings, helps Mark’s wife put him to bed. “They’re a wonderful family. They invited me to their Passover Seder, though I’m not Jewish. Their family had heard about me and wanted to meet me. It was a wonderful experience.” 

John was homebound, but his wife, Jill, needed the comfort of going to church on Sunday mornings. Our volunteer would stop by so she could go. The volunteer and John would talk, and Jill was able to leave and receive the spiritual support she needed. Taking people to services at their congregations is an ongoing function of many volunteers.

Lily is a modern, dynamic woman who, her volunteer says, would be “the healthiest nonagenarian I know – if she could walk.” Over the two years they’ve known each other, the two women have gotten close, thinking of each other – and treating each other – as family. At the same time, with her volunteer’s encouragement, Lily has made contact with estranged family members.

“She was so isolated when we met. At the same time, she is fiercely independent,” Our volunteer respects Lily’s desire to remain at home and works to make sure she can stay there.

Lily is given to moods, and the volunteer says the training she received from SELCFIA helped her recognize that she doesn’t have to react personally to them. “We now know each others quirks,” she says.

She also recognized that Lily’s estrangement from her family was in part their reaction to her dependence. “They felt overburdened and, not being able to do everything she needed, they did nothing.” Since Lily now has paid day-time caregivers six days a week, she’s less needy and her family is more attentive.

When she was a child, Lily had polio. Her gait was compromised and deterioration eventually led to her current dependence on a wheel chair.  Last spring, when she came out of a rehabilitation facility, she reluctantly accepted that she needed a full-time caregiver. That change meant she and her volunteer could spend their time together more sociably, getting together to chat rather than running errands.

“We loved watching the election campaign; Sarah Palin being chosen and Obama’s acceptance speech were highlights. Lily is very intelligent and gave me a different perspective on things. She loves to go to the beach and sometimes we’ll share ‘bad food.’” The volunteer explains that Lily has diabetes and once in a while “she’ll tell me she wants to cheat – and that she’ll do it whether I’m part of it or not. So we’ll go get a hot dog.”

Lily, she adds, always wants to do things to thank her. “She does this through my three pre-teenage children. She knows my son is interested in military things, so she sent him her husband’s World War II ration book with a long letter about her experiences during that time. She loves to knit and makes scarves and other things for my kids, and she’s passed along toys that belonged to her children.

“She is such an interesting person and she’s become a member of my family.”   

 Alice also was unable to leave home. Her volunteer went to see her once a week on the paid caregiver’s day off, made lunch and saw to Alice’s needs. She also took her to doctors’ appointments. One day, when Alice fell, the volunteer contacted her doctor and helped with the evaluation of her condition.  Alice didn’t want to leave her home to go to a nursing home as her conditions worsened.  With the help of her clergy and her volunteer, she was able to understand that moving out of her home was necessary. 

Mitch suffered from terminal multiple myeloma. He had also had a stroke. His volunteer, Bob, took him to the oncologist and the cardiologist, and also visited with him.

Early in their time together, Mitch asked Bob if he ever went to McDonald’s for coffee. “He told me there were some guys who go there several mornings a week – retirees, who sit and tell stories. He used to go but hadn’t been able to in six months or more.

“So we went. There were six or seven guys and we’d all sit and chat for 45 minutes at a time. It became two or three times a week and the other men told me they hadn’t seen Mitch light up like that in a long time.He particularly liked to sit at a table with one guy, a retired mail carrier who is 98 and still drives over to the McDonald’s.”

Mitch lived for about three months after their coffees began, and Bob says he’ll always remember those mornings and the joy they gave Mitch.

Sally has a range of problems, most tied to multiple sclerosis, but she’s not prepared to stay at home and languish. Jack and his wife, Suzanne, worked with her as a team. He’d drive and she’d sit in back with Sally and talk. Their dialogue distracted and relaxed Sally.

“She has a wild sense of humor,” Jack says. “She loves telling jokes. She loves getting together.”

Suzanne and Jack would take her to her doctors. “She calls me George, the chauffeur, teasing me while I load her walker in the trunk. She brings books and wears T-shirts with risqué slogans. Being together is fun for us all.”

At least once a week for the last couple of years, Tim and Helen have gotten together with Marlene. “We get her out of the house,” he says. The couple worked with Marlene’s husband, too, before he died a year ago.

Marlene is 91 and “sharp as a whip. She’s interested in politics and everything else that’s going on around her, but she has no-one to spend time with.

Her children aren’t around and she has outlived most of her friends.”

Marlene has a lot of problems with her house and her car. She calls Tim if something goes wrong and he does what he can to help.

“She has a good friend who is moving to a retirement community, a woman she frequently goes with to lunch at Old Country Buffet. That’s going to be harder for them to do, but we like taking her out. It lets her forget about her problems for a while.

“If we can bring a little joy to her life, it’s worthwhile. Like the potted amaryllis we’ve given her each fall. She loves to watch it grow and takes wonderful care of it.”

Tim and Helen also provide rides to other care recipients, taking them to physical therapy and doctors’ appointments. Meeting with these people enriches their lives, they say. “We enjoy them a lot.”

Yvonne is turning 84. She will do so in new quarters at an assisted living facility where she will, perhaps, have more company than she’s had in the home she’s leaving. With Yvonne’s family members living thousands of miles away, it fell to volunteer Judy to make the arrangements for the move.

“I helped her get ready,” says Judy, who Yvonne refers to as “my caregiver friend.” Relatives did come in from South America for three days and do stay in touch with their aunt, but there’s little they can do from such a distance.

Judy began visiting with Yvonne and her husband four years ago. He had Alzheimer’s disease and was Judy’s first care recipient. When he died three years ago, she continued to see Yvonne regularly.  At a volunteer recognition event, Yvonne told everyone that Judy was “like my sister.”

Judy says, “Yvonne would still prefer to be at home, where she was doing well most of the time. The problems were at night, when she began suffering from hallucinations. Needing to have someone with her after dark made her decision to move easier.”

Judy, who took Yvonne to medical appointments and advised on such activities as buying a new phone, will continue to visit with her and to stay in touch with her far-flung relatives. “I can’t walk away,” she says. “I’m her only support person here.” 

Diana is a vigorous woman who is legally blind. Donna drives her to appointments. This woman is the third recipient Donna has worked with since she first volunteered as Faith in Action was beginning its service to the community in 2003.

She spent her first years with Rhoda, a woman in her early 90s who had outlived her family and most of her friends. She had been a school teacher, but had no kids of her own. “She showed me letters of love she’d received from her students,” Donna said. “I drove her a lot and, when she moved to a nursing home, I continued to visit her and take her to appointments. She had a pace maker, which I checked for her, and her hands were always cold, but she did well for her age. Her doctors confirmed that. When Rhoda died, a former neighbor arranged her funeral and told me how much it had meant to Rhoda to know me as her friend”

Next, Donna worked with Liz, who went to live in a nursing home six months ago. She took her to appointments and did some shopping for her. “She was nice, funny and fun,” says Donna.

Mel was a tough guy to get along with, but Pete managed just fine. “I recognize that the ones who seem bitter and difficult are probably just lonely,” he says. “People become separated from their families and end up alone; it’s not the way anyone should face the end.”

Mel, who was in his early 80s when he died, was an engineer who had worked at various times for a company and for himself, with his work history including time assigned overseas. He was a heavy smoker and, in his later years, he was on oxygen and unable to leave his house.  “His house was a disaster. The person who eventually bought it had to tear it down,” said Pete.

“I saw him about once a week, shopping for him and running errands, picking up hardware and other things he needed. One such tool was a hand vacuum, which he used when he cut his own hair. He could be odd.

“He was lonely, so I would stay to sit and talk with him after running the errands. He could be very insulting, but that’s just who he was. He was alone because he had always been unable to maintain relationships. Just before he died, I was able to bring some of his family members to his bedside.”

His arms were thrust above his head and he was looking toward light breaking through clouds in a subdued sky; the cover photo on Darryl Didier’s first book, Force a Miracle, speaks to the faith and spirit of its author.

“Writing helps me thank God,” he said, shortly before succumbing to brain tumor. His enthusiasm bubbled over his sometimes slurred words, part of the legacy of his bouts with the cancer that stole mobility but not his wit and zest for life. “Don’t give up, don’t give in,” he added. “Love God and be enthused.”

Darryl, one of SELCFIA’s younger care recipients, lived with his mother in Lincolnshire and was active in American Brain Tumor Association activities.

Published in 2002, Force a Miracle tells Darryl’s story, starting when he was 23 and beginning a career with Merrill Lynch, through his diagnosis at age 24, treatment and a dozen years of tumor-free recovery, the threat in abeyance but never forgotten. He wrote of volunteering for the American Cancer Society and the ABTA, giving motivational speeches about cancer, self-responsibility and “taking control—dealing with life. Kids love what I have to say: ‘Keep Going.’”

The forward to his book was written by Mike Ditka, whom Darryl met at a walkathon. He went up to Ditka and told him, “You’re my hero. You’re a good man.” They began corresponding, developing a mutual respect which came out in Ditka’s forward.

At the end of the book, Darryl writes about wanting to write a children’s book about pediatric brain tumors. This he did. Sammy Hits a Home Run, “as told to and illustrated by Mary Ann Urbaszewski,” is the story of an eight-year-old who is treated for brain tumor. It reinforces Darryl’s philosophy of living every day fully, being happy and always doing the best you can.

SELCFIA volunteers Rosemary O’Rourke and Ralph Squaglia visited regularly with Darryl, keeping him in touch with the community and enjoying his company. They, like Ditka, were struck by the young man’s determination and faith, accepting his positive influence: “You realize the tough day you’ve had maybe isn’t so bad,” they agreed.

Eve was my first Faith in Action care recipient. I met her in 2003 when she was 88 years old. Her energy level would put her in the “live-wire” category. She was feisty and funny, and very bright, with an amazing memory. We laughed together, thinking of how she would come back in her next life as a college professor.

When we pulled up to the valet service at the hospital, the attendants would flash big smiles. They called her the “Jitterbug Queen.” Over the years, Eve had accumulated an extensive wardrobe. One of my

favorites was a chartreuse polyester shirt and shorts with matching earrings. With low vision, Eve was supposed to walk with a cane, but tended to twirl it, instead.

Then there was her insightful side. Having lived in the same house in Highwood since 1927, she had seen most of her friends and neighbors pass on. She had experienced many more than the normal bumps in life, and had come away stronger for it. While not religious, Eve was deeply spiritual. Over the years, she composed many poems to fit many occasions and committed them to memory, rather than writing.

I visited Eve for the last time in spring (2007), in the hospital. She was sleeping, so I didn’t disturb her. At the nursing station, I asked how she was doing. They referred me to a recenticture on a bulletin board. There she was, wearing a party hat and dancing.

Goodbye, Eve. You will always have a place in our hearts.