In recent times, when has being grateful shifted my experience?

Today at hospice, I got to play Chief Pamperer and I am grateful for what it taught me.

I have little to zero skills in making finger and toenails look nice. In the past I have washed hair, shaved, trimmed beards, and bathed those who needed it. But nails scare me. I cut my baby daughter’s thumb when trimming her nails three decades ago. The thought of which still traumatizes me today. So, upon hearing that nail care was to be my duty, along with hand and foot massages, I inwardly freaked out, but jumped to it anyway.

Massages were a breeze—I have had plenty of practice in hospitals through the use of lavender oil to remind patients that their bodies can still provide pleasure even though chronically ill. But with trimming, cleaning, digging under and then painting digits pretty pink, I had to go slow, as in Zen, mindful in the moment, every moment, slow. Little did I know that as we sat in such close spaces, sacred doors of intimacy would fling open. Laughter, listening, cheeky chatter, signs and silent messages, dignity, autonomy, and a myriad of emotions were also to follow.

One gentleman’s hands were tight balls of curled up, shrunken, unused tendons. As I cut his nails, he screamed out, “You’ve hurt me! You’ve cut my finger off…” I nearly fainted. He burst out laughing at how he’d tricked me. I growled, “You better never do that again…you could kill me!” We roared and roared till our sides hurt. It was pure therapy. After I had finished his nails and a long massage, his hands lay unfolded in his lap, completely relaxed and beautiful. When asked what his day’s highlight was so far, he promptly replied, “You!” Of course, I promised to do his feet next week.

A cleaner told me he is a favorite. He’s kind, humble, has a wicked sense of humor, and on top of it all, is always inspiring. The staff actually vie to feed and care for him. So, if like me, you ever wonder if you’d suffer lack of care if you couldn’t care for yourself, get in the habit of being so friendly that everyone wants to friend you now… My new friend’s code of conduct spoke volumes and proved to me that needing care is not necessarily a burden — no one wants to be a burden — but can be a part of a wonderful handshake.