When I got back from doing Meals on Wheels today, I was sad. I was happy that I got to give meals to people who need them, but today I delivered in a low-income MDHA housing project, and what I saw made me sad. It was like being plunged into a different world, a world that for many seniors, consists of a room with a chair, a TV and/or a bed. It reminded me of the Michelle House, a residential facility for people with HIV/AIDS that I volunteered at in California, because when you go inside, it’s like you leave behind the great wide world and enter into the shrinking existence of someone who has a terminal disease.
One man had had a stroke, and his hands were like claws. He couldn’t use his fingers to write. He used to be a skycap for United Airlines, and his eyes twinkled. I got him a cup of water. Another woman’s face was deformed. She told me her name was “Old Ugly Martha.” Yet another man couldn’t walk or get out of his chair because he too had a stroke. His house smelled really bad. But all of these people were nice and sweet. Last week I had an old man in a wheelchair with really long fingernails open the door a crack, snatch the meal out of my hands, and shut the door before I could really even see his face. But everyone was friendly on my route today.
I wish I could make their lives better and their worlds bigger. Giving them a meal doesn’t seem to be enough.
