Ma Vie

Chapter 33: An Open Letter

Dearest Daffodil,

Today, you hate me.

It's like going back to the first night when your daughter hired me to take care of you. You didn't trust me at all. I understand that, it was our first meeting. But you know what? I wasn't supposedly assigned to you, it was my friend, but she already committed to another client that day so she asked me if I'd like to take your shift instead.

At that time to be honest, I needed the money, so I said yes.

She gave me an overview about you from what she learned from her friend, one of your girls, as how you call your health care providers. The job was okay, she said. The main concern only is you are afraid to fall because you just had a hip fracture.

I was hopeful.

I knew you'd be perfectionist. It was a first impression the moment I heard your voice when you asked for my name. But I didn't expect that your combo would be a total dynamite. You are the worst version of a worry-wart, surprisingly anxious, too fussy, and very verrrry hard to please.

And I was like, gosh, I did not know how I managed to survive the whole shift.

Clearly, it was a first meeting I wouldn't forget.

I have dealt with numerous older people from different walks of life, but I haven't dealt with the likes of you. No offense, but you are like the 100 times version of  the most irate client I've encountered.

In that moment then, I told myself that for the first time, I accepted being a failure. I failed  not only a client, but most of all, I failed myself.

For every minute I was with you, I was so scared to do my task, so afraid I would upset you. I mustered all the patience, all the perseverance, the courage, the faith, everything I've got. Yes, in my 12 hour shift, I was literally praying when I have to be near you. Whenever I have to help you up from your bed to pee, I pray. Whenever I have to held your hand to assist you to stand from your wheelchair, I pray. I couldn't remember myself praying too many things to God like how I prayed that day. I would even tell Him to give me enough strength to lift you in accordance to your preferred comfort, prayed that I could carry on with all the task and finish my shift so I could go home and rest. I was praying hard. So hard I wanted the day to end.

Was I hurt when you yelled at me?

You. Have. No. Idea.

Yet, at some point, at the end of the shift, my heart softens when you admittedly say your faults and feel sorry for what you have said.

I understand, you were once independent and now you cannot bear being dependent to anybody. You displaced the frustrations, you're venting out.

But tonight, basically our fourth meeting, fourth time I took this on-call shift, would you believe that for a long time, I have willed myself not to cry-a mastery I am very good at, but you were able to finally tear me up.

It was hard to control, no matter how many times I told myself not to take it personally because you didn't mean what you said. You were just having a bad day, you were tired and sleepy, you were agitated, or maybe it's the aging. I kept reminding myself thinking of all the possible reasons, but there I was, collapsed at the side of the sofa in the living room, silently crying. It was just very hard to hold back the tears.

So you see? I have feelings too. And to tell you frankly, although I needed the money, it will never be worth crushing my self-esteem. Nobody has ever yelled at me the way you do, but I chose to let you. And I just listened to you blabbing. I never even dared talking back. Even if you have belittled me upfront.

It's just very unfair that on most days, 99% of the hours on my shift, you'd give me an A+++ in everything that I do 'cause nobody exceeding your expectations the way I'm giving you. You would even tell me you'd like to fire everyone and just keep me while at the back of my mind, I'm praying a different one. And you know what? All those tasks you were saying that I aced damn well was done by a first-timer me.

Just a little revelation there, I somehow grew up almost getting everything I ever wanted and even a tiny clutter that I made on the floor was being picked or cleaned up by someone. For me. So I hope you'd understand why I was deeply hurt. That I finally allowed myself to feel it, to let it get into my head.

Still, I was so confused that one single flaw I couldn't even fathom (how I did it all wrong)- you suddenly turned into a monster (more than what you normally are, sorry) and labeled me as the worst, instantly.

But it's okay, Daffodil. It really is. Know that I am still grateful despite and in spite of everything. I learned and is still learning so much from the experience. Though in all honesty, I don't know how long I can still endure and finally get all-nods from a perfectionist like you, but I will keep trying until I can no longer feel anything from what you're about to say (not because I want to please you). So whether it's good or bad, I don't want to expect anymore.

Just know that the reason why I am still continuing my care for you is not because of the money, no. Not anymore. It's because I truly want to learn and I truly care. I want to understand you. Okay fine, and a little of not getting a lecture from my grandmother telling her favorite line of 'I told you so, that's why I keep telling you to find a rich husband so you could continue living your princess life until you die'.

Nope. I'm better than that.

I am more challenged by you and I am challenging myself to learn everything there is to learn just so I could provide the best possible care I could give, not only to you, but to anyone in the future. So I could avoid doing the same flaw, I could revise a different tactic, use a different approach and give an individualized care to every possible person in need.

So Daffodil? Thank you. Thank you for the experience. I will never forget you. And I will keep on praying for your good health.

You'll never know in the near future, you'd still get to meet each other, but with a different me. More phenomenal, with hardcore credentials and licenses to match. And I will be nothing compared to anybody, more than ever.

Sincerely,
The Past Me