Today at work, my last assignment was a routine transfer of a bed confined patient to a nursing facility for long term care. The assignment was a no brainer and by comparison of what I deal with during my average day, an easy one. Go to the transferring Hospital, make sure the paperwork is in order, make sure the patient is stable for the transfer, move them to my stretcher and watch him, easy.
When they nurse handed me the paperwork I recognized the name, at first I thought it could be just another with the same name, like so many times before. I have treated Martha Stewart, William Clinton, Benny Hill etc., but never the actual ones. So I took the papers and walked into the room, at first glance, it didn’t seem possible that the person I was looking at was he. The person I was looking at was frail, contracted legs that could no longer walk, nor dance. The hands where shriveled and diminutive compared to the rest of the Man. He was fed through a G-tube, and he had the familiar tremors of Parkinson’s. His arms bandaged at the elbows, because of bed sores. This could not be the man that had his character represented in a movie. This could not be the man who was the Welterweight title holder. The man who had a record of 112 total fights, 85 wins, 23 wins by K.O., 24 losses, 2 draws, and 1 No contest. A champion of his time, and no stranger to controversy, which in one fight his opponent was killed in the ring.
The man before me frail, with a blank stare, with no motor function, suffering from Pugilistic Parkinson’s, was a modern day Gladiator who commanded respect in the ring and now is at the mercy of his caregivers for the most basic of needs. His room in the nursing home had a few pictures of his former self reminding those who may glance in, who he once was. I felt pity, I felt sorrow, and I was overwhelmed by grief. The only thing I could think of when I placed him into his Nursing Home bed was, has he ever accepted Jesus? I have read about his life, his accomplishments and his recurring forty years of nightmares reliving the moment when his opponent died by his hand. Some speculate he killed him because of rage. Forty years of nightmares can only tell me he never forgave himself, though he tried to make amends with his opponent’s family. So I prayed for him silently, that our lord and Savior will give him peace, and grant him mercy. I can only imagine how a strong commanding man humbled by the very essence of his chosen career feels as he is lying in bed cognitive of his surroundings, because Pugilistic Parkinson’s can only occur if you’re a Boxer.
Do we take into account what our actions in life may cause forty years from now? The Positive or Negatives in our decision making is very important, not only to us but to those around us. What will our future selves say about our former self? Will we be just a few pictures on the nursing home wall, or could we shine so bright, in such a way that even if no one remembers who we were, we will be a light to future generations?
What will your future self look like?
