All Kinds of Ways to Volunteer

Listening to wise friends who’d retired before me, I refused to let myself get excited about volunteering during the first couple of years I was newly free in the daytime. For the final few of years at work I had fantasized about being the person who worked part time, watering plants at my favorite greenhouse, but even that I put on hold so I wouldn’t rush into anything. Settle in, I reasoned, there’s so much to catch up on at home anyway. 

Yet, I snuck in a training day at a local hospital, since they had an opening in the session, and their hospice program had helped so many of my friends in the past. Just to learn a little more about how I might help out in their hospice program or perhaps another, someday. I could always start on the ground floor, spending a few hours a month manning the reception desk at their inpatient facility before I ventured out to a person’s home, later on, down the road. That wouldn’t be getting too entrenched in the volunteering world, would it?

While I dallied with and pondered this lightweight commitment I got a call from my best friend in town, telling me that something was going on with her body. Something was wrong and she was starting off with a visit to her family doctor to figure it out. In my quiet, overly-restrained way, I went into high alert. If she thought something was wrong, there was something wrong.

And there was, and is. She swiftly went into chemotherapy to prepare for a horrendous procedure with a deceivingly-simple acronym—HIPEC. She recovered from that in record time and soon continued with more chemo. There was a lull and a period of good energy and family time and now she’s back on chemo. She looks forward to being with the Lord when she dies but she fiercely wants to enjoy every last second she has with her family, and she describes herself as a warrior fighting a battle.

Volunteering walked up my sidewalk, rapped on my door and showed itself in. There was no decision to make; I knew I was meant to do whatever she needed. We’ve been friends since 1976. When I was on bed rest with my first baby she came home from college on her winter break and took over my world for three weeks so I could lay in bed 23.5 hours a day and try not to eat too many bonbons.

The details—she designated me as her Gatekeeper and Communications coordinator, fielding questions from friends and keeping people informed about her status and needs. I take her texts, emails and photos and turn them into CaringBridge posts. If you’re looking for a place to donate some money where they really do an excellent service in communicating via their website for people with serious illnesses, think CaringBridge.org 

Another friend came alongside her and volunteered to help; she’s the Meals coordinator. This lady called me up one day and said she didn’t know our friend super well but she felt called to help. As one of the most organized people I’ve ever met, she is a behind-the-scenes wonder. Oh, if you ever want a second place to donate think TakeThemAMeal.org

We’ve had two people helping as Transportation coordinators, securing drivers for appointments. In the beginning, before the necessary COVID-19 restrictions, our friend wanted the driver(s) to accompany her to appointments, so they could act as a second set of ears for her. Now, with the limits on non-patients entering health-care settings, these folks act primarily as drivers. Our teaching hospital downtown is excellent (VCU Health Systems), but the confusion of navigating around many one-way city streets and obstructions caused by so much building and street work makes the job of driver quite daunting. It takes a brave soul to find your way around the congested streets and jaywalkers to the exact spot where they drop off and pick up my friend.

And then there are the “Specialists.” Although my friend is an ex-critical care nurse and hospital administrator she is sometimes groggy from anesthesia and requested nurse friends sit with her following her surgery. Two friends especially helped out, one staying overnight and another for most of a day, helping too-busy ICU nurses untangle lines and an intern-turned-resident-just-the-day-before remember to use sterile technique when handing the port line to her chest. Infections after surgery are not your friends.

Her former job paid for a super cleaning of her home. The graphic designers there created banners and other encouragements for her to display at home and while she sat in her chemo chair. A small group of ladies clustered around her and began walking local parks together and sharing outdoor lunches. Friends dropped by to walk with her near home. So many helpers.

I might still volunteer for a hospice program someday, or maybe pull weeds for a neighbor who has trouble getting around. But, I think the time I’m spending with my friend, and all the people who have gathered around her, is just practice for the future. I think there will be more opportunities to help in this same way, down the road.

But for now I’m going to keep my focus on my friend. My wonderful, battling warrior and friend.