MY EXPERIENCE at MEALS on WHEELS.,,

After I had my cancerous lung removed in 1993 I went back to work at Cleasby Mfg for a short time until I turned 62. I quit and went on Social Security. The steel work was just a little too much physically. I got a job at Volunteers of America delivering meals on wheels which is the point of this part of my story.

It really makes you take notice in a world where one sees, in the course of a day, a people who are living from day to day with often this one meal we bring. It was very difficult at first as I was not prepared for what I saw. My route began downtown Denver and quickly took me to north Denver to a housing development. I went into homes and apartments where mostly older women and men and some with disabilities or diabetic or handicapped or where they had difficulties managing there life physically. Some were bed-ridden and some had someone to come in periodically to care for them. I am not talking about wealthy people. Most had very little and were reliant on disability and programs like meals on wheels and varied health care programs through the city or county and other such programs.

I had some good moments and some heartbreaking moments. There was, for example, Edith and Edna. Edna lived on a street I don’t remember and right across the ally from Edith. My first stop was Edna who was 84 and almost spry for her age. Her family were all gone or at least not close enough to be helpful, which was quite often in these cases. She would talk from the moment I went in continued on for a good fair of time until I could pry myself away. One day she told me that Edith was 100 years old. Evidently they talked across the alley once in a while. I was surprised that Edith could be 100. I always stopped at Edith’s as my next stop on the route and that day after talking for a while I mentioned that Edna told me she was 100. She, in an angry voice, informed very emphatically the she “was NOT 100! She was only 99” and she wished that Edna would quit saying that. Anyway, Edith did not have any family either and had a girl come in once a day to help her with various duties. Every day when I did go to Edith, I would talk a bit with her. I did with most of the clients as sometimes I was the only one they would see in a day.

Whenever I arrived Edith always had a cat on her lap and one on the tp of the back of her chair. She admitted to having 4 cats but I suspect there were more. One of them I always saw sliding under the bed as I walked in. The problem was feeding them and the one on her lap was very sick. I asked about her and she said she couldn’t afford a vet for her and I didn’t think she would survive for long. I told her that if she wanted, I could take it to the humane society for her. After a while she agreed. My wife came with me on that saturday and we took her down to a shelter on a Saturday. They told us after a brief that she was too far gone to last long so we made a donation and had her put to sleep. Edith never found out and just as well. The next time I went there she had another cat on her lap and life went on. She was still there watching TV with a cat on her lap as usual when I quit the route nearly a year later. She was a good woman.

Another woman, probably 50 was not so lucky. She was bed-ridden and had one leg amputated do to diabetes some time ago. Her other leg was not far off. She had a son who visited occasionally when he needed money or something else. She claimed he brought her the paper and occasionally cigarettes and sometimes videos. She was on oxygen all the time, even while she smoked and her bed was always somewhat dirty but she seemed to always be in good spirits. She had a stack of videos which she watched every day, all day. Her home smelled as she only had someone come in once a week and didn’t seem to do much for her pay.

Then there was the new client at an apartment that I stopped every day and knocked. When the door opened a young man answered and I asked if, I gave a name, lived here and he looked sort of surprised but said “Si” so I handed him the meal and left. I did this for a week until I looked at the address given me a little better and realized this wasn’t the right apartment. It was on the next street. Why this guy didn’t tell me I was at the wrong place really pissed me off. Mostly because the bed-ridden lady it belonged to never got a meal for a week. There was another one whom I never did see. She just opened the door a crack and took the meal and said thanks.

There were many stories but I will end with this one. Once again, probably in her late eighties, there was this lady who always said just come in when a I rang the bell. When I walked in from the doorway to the living room and through the whole house, there were plastic bags, mostly filled with newspapers but other items too. Probably some trash, also. I asked her about it and she just said someday she would be getting rid of it but she might need some of it sometime. It never moved and was still there when I quit the job. But the sadness was that the filth and conditions lived in and the inability of them to physically change anything and no relatives or friends or any one to help those who couldn’t help themselves.

And I have to say that I quit mostly because of not being to cope with all that I saw ever day. But I feel I did make their day once in awhile and helped a little once in a while. I don’t regret the job but it got to be too much. Meals on Wheels does so much good that a lot of people couldn’t understand or know about. There are a lot of wonderful people in that Organization who really do care.