Typewriter

Back in the late 90's, I worked for the Alzheimer's Association. I was the first social worker hired at the Akron Tri-County Chapter. I helped launch a pilot program to assist caregivers, and I started a support group for individuals in the early stages of the disease, which was my very favorite thing. I bonded with those families like nobody's business.

Through that support group, I met Herb and Anne East. They were both in their 80's. Anne had Alzheimer's and Herb was her caregiver. They had no other family support, and Herb got very attached to me. He called the office daily to talk. I always did my best to maintain a professional distance with the families I worked with, but it's hard not to get personally attached to people. I have a soft spot for the elderly as it is... and this couple became very dear to me.

 

When I moved to Texas, they were pretty broken up. I remember telling Herb, in their living room, and he cried.

We kept in touch via letters. He would get out his old typewriter and write to me. He always started his letters with, "Please excuse the typed letter, but I do not write any better than I type, so here goes." I think those letters took him hours to finish.

I still have those letters.

I moved in 1999. In May 2001, I received this letter:

"I am trying everything and every way to keep Anne comfortable at home. Hospice seems to want her to go faster. This gets on my nerves and I tell them I don't want to hear this. Anne gets irritated at me when I turn her over and over in bed. But the good part is, in five minutes, she tells me, "I have to keep you around." She whispers mostly when she says anything now. I know time is catching up with me and I walk with a cane, don't get a lot of sleep or rest, but I will keep going as long as The Good Lord provides. Anne is my life and we have been married 57 years. I know your thoughts and prayers are with us. Please come to see us when you come to Ohio. Make it soon. Anne sleeps a lot now but she still has good days where a smile tells a lot even if words fail her. I know whatever you do, it will be very helping and healing, not only in body and spirit; you have a beautiful big heart. We wish you more than luck. We pray that you have a healthy and happy life now and forever. You can see by now that I cannot type or spell and I ran out of correction fluid so I will stop now. I'm sending you an old picture of us taken at our church a year ago when Anne was happy and feeling well that day. Our Love, Herb and Anne East."

And a handwritten P.S. at the bottom... "Thanks for being a special friend."

Anne died soon after this letter. And Herb is also gone now.

I have often questioned my decision to get my masters in social work. I sometimes regret that I chose that route rather than something else. But then I think of people like Herb and Anne East, who touched my life and let me touch theirs. And I guess I shouldn't ever question my social work career. It was a gift. And it's contributed to who I am today, in so many ways. It doesn't matter that I no longer work in that field. I met real life angels, and I am so thankful that I was able to help some people along the way.