Over the course of my working life, there were a few clients I’ll never forget. Sometimes it was because they presented challenges to me and taught me a lot. Other times it was because I was really able to work with the client, and often the family, to have an impact. Today, I thought about it and realized that there were seven of them in total. One of them died last week at the age of 89, two months shy of his 90th.
A few days ago, I was contacted by the daughter of this client I worked with almost ten years ago. She called to tell me her father had died and gave me details about the service. This was a special invitation and I was honoured to be asked.
In September, 2005, just after my dad died, I was contacted through my private practice to have an interview with a family who were interested in hiring a speech-language pathologist to work with their father while he was in the hospital, following a large stroke. It appears that a decision was made at the hospital to deny him rehabilitation because of his complex health needs and the type of aphasia he was left with following the stroke.
One piece of information I was able to provide them was to tell them not to allow him to be discharged or he would have no chance for rehabilitation. And the biggest challenge with the type of aphasia he had often meant that people would be admitted to extended care units and placed on dementia wards. The family had every intention of taking him home and were fortunate that they had the financial means to provide for him. (A few months before this meeting, I had quit a job in Vancouver Community health because I advocated for a man who had Wernicke’s aphasia and was locked up on a dementia ward — but that’s another story!)
This man was moved over to UBC hospital for sub-acute rehabilitation where he had one visit from the speech-language pathologist each week. The family hired me to visit him every day to assess and treat him. But the most valuable part of my work with the family was to teach them about aphasia, especially Wernicke’s aphasia, and to pay attention to his behavioural intelligence as it was evident to me at our first meeting.
The members of the family were amazingly strong and assertive, especially the eldest daughter. Over time, she and her mother insisted that people learn about aphasia and they made plans to bring him home once he was medically stable. Although it was challenging for the family in the past couple of months, they enjoyed his company at home for almost 10 years. He had the opportunity to see his grandchildren born and grow up a bit. He also was able to see his siblings and other relatives who lived overseas.
Yesterday at the funeral, I heard more about this man and his life. He had a multitude of near death experiences and with all of his health complications, he should not have lived to 60, let alone 90. But he had a stronger will to live than anybody I have ever met. And after his stroke, he greeted people with a big smile, and said “I love you” freely, even if they were not the exact words he wanted to say. The sentiment and the sincerity were there for all to see.
His two daughters shared the story of his life with the attendees at the funeral, and the amazing stories of his strength and survival. At the end, the eldest daughter wanted to thank four people who had made a difference in their father’s life, especially following the stroke. First was the family doctor of 40 years, then next I heard my name — I have to say I was so gobsmacked and moved to tears, that I didn’t hear who the third one was. The fourth was the nurse the family hired ten years ago and has helped them manage at home for all these years. It was nice to see her at the reception as we were both a big part of the transition from the hospital. She provided love and support to the whole family.
I went to the reception for a few minutes as I wanted to make sure I extended my greetings to the family. And I spent some time by the hearse to have a few words with this remarkable man.