Saturday, June 16, 2012

Volunteering in the AIDS Clinic


(Continued from Tuesday . . . )

My volunteer work with men who were HIV-positive (they’d tested positive for the Human Immunodeficiency Virus) or had full-blown AIDS (Acquired Immunodeficiency Syndrome) began in the late summer of 1988. I continued it for three years and then, wearied by deaths and by being present to these men, I ceased to volunteer.
            By that time, I’d attended thirty or so memorial services. I’d also come to know three men well—Lon, Robert, and Andrew. And I’d learned from Lon just how important definition is. But more about that in another posting.
            Today I’d like to describe a typical Tuesday to you back then.



Freeway into downtown St. Paul, Minnesota.

The drive into St. Paul from Stillwater took a half-hour, but I can’t remember what time the AIDS clinic started or ended. The clinic itself was square shaped.
            On its far left side were the spacious waiting room and the receptionist’s desk.
            In the middle section were six examination rooms—three on each side of a long aisle.
           At the square’s right side were the supply room, x-ray, and staff waiting room. A hall separated them from the exam rooms. Various machines and other paraphernalia the nurses and doctors had to use made this hall a maze to negotiate. The lighting seemed dim everywhere except in the windowed reception area.



            Throughout the day I visited with patients and tried to help them feel comfortable as they waited for one of the two doctors. Volunteers always chatted with the patients in an exam room, not in the waiting room.
            Joanne—the nun who’d accepted me into the program—had emphasized during our interview that patient conversations were confidential. I was not to talk about anything I heard at the clinic to any of my friends. “You are like a priest in the confessional,” she said. “What is said is between that patient,  you, and God.”
            Sometimes, a patient would share something I thought the doctor needed to know. When that happened I asked the patient for permission to tell the doctor.
            Every Tuesday I worked with another woman. For the first two years that was Darlene. During the third year, Mary volunteered and so we changed off and I attended the clinic only every other week.
            Darlene’s serenity spoke to the patients, all of whom responded wholeheartedly to her. Kindness softened her eyes whenever she visited with anyone for she saw and understood beyond the spoken words. I know that the patients could feel her acceptance and nonjudgmental stance toward life. Toward them. She simply enjoyed people.
            My first Tuesday, Darlene, who’d been volunteering for some time, introduced me to the “regulars”—those men who came to the clinic each week. In the following weeks, I came to know their names, their hobbies, their humor, their fears, their dreams.
            As time passed, I began to pray before knocking on each examination-room door. The prayer was always the same: “Oneness, listen in me and speak through me.”
            I had to listen on the knees of my heart. Then I had to trust that my words would be whatever the man inside needed to hear. Words of healing of the spirit perhaps. Or laughter. Or simply words that kept him from thinking about the coming exam.


            Some men wanted to talk. Other chose to remain alone in the exam room. When they politely declined my presence, I simply closed the door and waited until a nurse escorted another patient into one of the six rooms.
            St. Paul-Ramsey Medical Center was a nonprofit organization that served the needs of the community, especially on the east side of the St. Paul where many low-income people lived. Nearly all the patients in the clinic were poor or had little. Some were still able to hold down jobs. Others were fairly destitute so there was always a social worker available to work with these men.
            I’ll introduce you to Lon—the patient who became a good friend—in my Tuesday posting.            
                                                                                                (Continued on Tuesday . . . )

SOME ADDITIONAL WORDS I'M ADDING SATURDAY EVENING:
THANK YOU TO ALL HAVE COMMENTED TODAY. 
SO MANY OF YOU HAVE RESPONDED TO ONE SENTENCE: 
I HAD TO LISTEN ON THE KNEES OF MY HEART. 


I'M TRULY NOT SURE 
IF THAT CONCEPT IS ORIGINAL WITH ME OR NOT. 
I THOUGHT IT WAS WHEN I WROTE IT TODAY.
BUT WHO KNOWS? I DON'T.


PERHAPS I READ IT SOMEWHERE IN THE DISTANT PAST, 
AND IT JUST CAME TO ME TODAY FROM THAT PAST.
LIKE A MELODY THAT STAYS WITH US ALL OUR LIVES.


IF IT IS ORIGINAL 
THAN I'M GLAD TO HAVE SPOKEN THE WORDS 
BECAUSE THEY TRULY SHOW 
HOW I TRIED TO LISTEN TO THE MEN AT THE AIDS CLINIC.


IF THEY ARE NOT ORIGINAL,
THEN LET US ALL PRAISE THE PERSON WHO FIRST SPOKE THEM.
FOR THAT PERSON--WHOEVER SHE OR HE IS--
HAS GIVEN US WORDS THAT SPEAK TO THE HEARTS OF ALL OF US.


PEACE. 
DEE

Housekeeping: This past Wednesday, I did a guest posting on the blog Tossing It All Out. In it, I shared my thoughts about the difficulties of getting published the traditional way and about what self-publishing asks of writers if they want to reach a wide audience. If you’d like to read that posting, please click here.

Pictures from Wikipedia.


36 comments:

  1. "I had to listen on the knees of my heart." This sentence alone exemplifies how beautifully you write.

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    1. Dear Fran, please read the note I added at the end of Saturday's posting. I'm not sure that line is original to me. I'd like it to be. But is it? I don't know. Peace.

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  2. I look forward to your next post, but I always look forward to your next post. I think about how little could be done for AIDS patients in the early days of its existence. I wonder if the government might have funded more research if it hadn't been thought of as the gay men's disease.

    Love,
    Janie

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    1. Dear Janie, I expect that it being named "the gay disease" did put off research. If you have time, get "And the Band Played On." It talks about this. Peace.

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  3. I know your presence and kindness meant a lot to these men.

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    1. Dear Inger, I hope that my being there helped. I know those men taught me a lot. Peace.

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  4. Like fishducky, this sentence, "I had to listen on the knees of my heart," truly resonated in me and moved me. Looking forward to the next installment~

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    1. Dear Shelly, please read the note I added at the end of Saturday's posting. I'm not sure that line is original to me. I'd like it to be. But is it? I don't know. Peace.

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  5. I agree with Fishducky--listening on the knees of your heart--what a line!! I can hardly wait to meet these men through your memories. :)

    Great interview! All that self-promotion is rather beyond me these days, should I ever finish a book to self-publish in the first place--LOL! I had never heard of Amanda Hocking. There are so many writers who have websites nowadays. And she is writing just what is popular right now, too. The publishing world has gotten narrower...just as the movie world as, too. Once they become big money corporations and costs climb...things change. So much concern placed on the (hopefully) sure thing with less risk, I think. But in a way, when people can self publish then you're kind of on an equal playing field of sorts. Times change. Writers still write. ;)

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    1. Dear Rita, please read the note I added at the end of Saturday's posting. I'm not sure that line is original to me. I'd like it to be. But is it? I don't know. Peace.

      I'm glad you liked the guest posting I did for the blog "Tossing It Out." I think you're right about the equal playing field, except for promotion. Getting word of the self-published book out there is difficult. Peace.

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  6. I've volunteered with various AIDS related organizations since my friend Jett died in 86. The fear, anger, & loathing he encountered~just for being a terribly ill young man with the WRONG disease~ is what spurred me on.

    Some days I don't want Oneness, but as referenced here, I do.

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    1. Dear Mary, AIDS during the early years truly was the wrong disease to have. I am often stunned by the amount of hatred I see in the actions and eyes of others. I see it now in the political arena. I wonder if people realize that bitterness and hatred can shrivel you up like a raisin. Just as the African-American poet, Langston Hughes said. Peace.

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  7. Some of these patients show up in your latest book, so I know a little about what you learned. But oh, your writing continues to inspire me. I too will often ask f?or the spirit to speak through me in sensitive situations, and often it happens. I love that line, too; it is very descriptive. You are such an honest soul, Dee. I am sending you love through the internet, can you feel it? :-)

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    1. Dear DJan, In the book I changed Lon's name to Liam. But all these men have died now--all twenty years ago--and so I'm going to use their real names in these postings. I don't want them forgotten.

      I do feel most of the time that I am surrounded by love--the love of those who have gone before me like my mom and dad and my dearest friends Annette and Mary Alice, but also the love of those whose lives touch mine today as my life touches theirs. Friends like you, DJan. Thank you. Peace.

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  8. I've not thought about it with these words, "I had to listen on the knees of my heart" but I know what you mean. My most heart felt prayers have been on my knees, and I like how you helped us to see that with those words. We don't need to by physically on our knees, to be on the knees of our heart. Those words will stay with me, Dee.

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    1. Dear Sandi, please read the note I added at the end of Saturday's posting. I'm not sure that line is original to me. I'd like it to be. But is it? I don't know. Peace.

      I'm glad those words speak to you. When we are humble before the sacredness of each person, then we truly kneel before them in our hearts and in our minds. It's like the bowing before majesty. Before holiness. That spark of divinity that is within each person we meet. Sometimes, we don't immediately see that spark. We have to look and believe that it's there. That's the challenge I think with embracing Oneness. Peace.

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  9. There are so many sentences that I could pick out and comment on. Each one is so beautifully written. Overall, the word that speaks to me, but you never mention, is compassion". However, it is more than that. It is about those who take that extra step forward, who go where so many fear to tread, to take on what others fear. You make us all want to be better people.

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    1. Dear Arleen, thank you for your comments about my writing. I'm still learning how to write so as to communicate from both heart and mind. And, Arleen, thank you, also, for saying that I help you and others want to be better people. I find that's true with so many blogs I read. They help me set goals: to exercise more, to do more sightseeing, to appreciate my family and friends more, to read more. Oh, blogging has been a gift to me. And I have so enjoyed meeting children--like your grandchildren--through blogging and hearing their stories. Thank you for that. Peace.

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  10. I hadn't considered the intimacy of the volunteering you did at that time, Dee. The only volunteers I've known through our AIDS Center were responsible to take meals to homes, or perhaps provide transportation from place to place for some of the ill. I can't imagine getting to know that many people and then being part of so many memorial services. Your poor heart! I will look forward to hearing more next Tuesday. This is a remarkable story. I hope to find a moment later to read your guest post, too! You have been busy!! oxo Debra

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    1. Dear Debra, yes, I finally had to stop volunteering because I'd seen too much and the pain of it all finally tore me apart so that I needed time to recoup. From somewhere deep within herself, Darlene found the fortitude and resilience to continue. And Joanne--the nun who set up the program--also continued for many years to volunteer at a Minneapolis hospital. Both great women. Peace.

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  11. I am really enjoying your stories and look forward to the next installment


    Mimi Torchia Boothby Watercolors

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  12. Dear Mimi, thank you. I'll be posting again on Tuesday. I hope to introduce all of you to Lon. Peace.

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  13. Those same words caught my eye also.. No matter who originally wrote them they are definitively profound.
    My Aunt was a writer and found over time it became harder to get books published. The world wide web is partly to blame.
    Nice post, Dee.

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    1. Dear Pam, I'm interested Pam in why you think the world wide web is "partly to blame" for the fact that getting publishing is harder. I've never thought about that and I'd surely be interested in your thoughts.

      Peace.

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  14. Thank you for sharing Dee, we cannot ignore those suffering from Aids as if they weren't there, or by blaming them for their situation. Everyone of us are responsible, in one way or the other, to love the person... It has reminded me of those I have cared for. xx

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    1. Dear Crystal, I so agree. As Dulcy said in her book "A Cat's Life: Dulcy's Story," "at the end, all that matters is love." Peace.

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  15. I'm a bit late to this conversation, Dee, but have the benefit of seeing your additional words. The phrase spoke to me immediately. I will apologize in advance, for I know they will tumble out onto a page some time in the future and I will use them.

    " I had to listen on the knees of my heart." It is how I felt talking about death with my mom when she was dying.

    One of the the many things that truly angered me as the HIV story unfolded was that the powers that be knew that it was in the blood supply. When I think of all of the lives . . . Well, that's what I did and do, I think, while you, dear soul, act. I'm so blessed to know you through your words. Isn't this medium remarkable? Virtual mentoring.

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    1. Dear Penny, first, let me thank you for your thoughtful--and helpful--response to one of my comments on your blog--the one about moving. I'm glad those words speak to you also. They continue to be essential to the way I want to be present to people--family, friends, strangers. Peace.

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  16. Thank you for sharing the struggles of that time and how you depended not on your own strength or understanding, but that of God, or as you believe "Oneness". To give them the gift of listening and kindness may have meant more to them than you can realize.

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    1. Dear Susan, we just never know, do we, how our actions touch. We go through life and others touch our lives and we touch theirs. My only hope ever is that the touching is for the good. Peace.

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  17. As always, I stand in admiration . . . .

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    1. Dear Friko, and as always, I am gratified when you leave a comment. Thank you.
      Peace.

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  18. I am behind as usual when I go on trips away from home. We are away right now but I took my computer with me. Your last posts were so inspiring. I lived in San Francisco in the ‘60s and knew many gay men. My best friend, who was gay, gave me away at my wedding. He did not die of AIDS but kidney failure. Growing up in Paris where there was a large gay community, which people did not think was sinful, I never had problems with it. We left SF before AIDS arrived though and don’t know how many of my friends succumbed to the disease. I think the two volunteers you knew – I’m not sure whether they were nuns, but they were and are, just like you, selfless and persons with great compassion.

    Unfortunately not all volunteers are like that. For a few years I have been following the missionaries started by Mother Teresa and read about the horrible negligence and financially fraudulent activities of her charities. Most people believe, or want to believe the PR, but with all the millions Mother Teresa’s charities have received by now there would be state of the arts hospitals in India, but there are not – most of the money was sent to the Vatican or other places and people were left to die without medicine and in horrible pain. The very first house she opened has been closed by the Indian Government for gross negligence. It is so sad to see all the money people sent thinking it would help, they should have sent it to places like those where you volunteered. (here is a link explaining the fraud: https://www.facebook.com/missionariesofcharity .)

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  19. Dear Vaganonde, the two women--Darlene and Mary--were not nuns. However, Joanna was. She was the originator of the program and volunteered at an AIDS clinic in Minneapolis. Darlene, Mary, and I were in St. Paul. I wasn't aware of what you've shared about Mother Teresa's charities. I'll go on line and read.

    Peace.

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  20. What you've done throughout your life really speaks volumes. I can't imagine how hard that must have been. You've helped so many.

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    1. Dear Elisa, I've only been able to pitch in because I've been single with no children and work schedule that I can manage. Most women don't have the luxury to volunteer before retirement. Your day is coming!!! Peace.

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