Being there for vs. Being with

I haven't posted here in forever. It's not that I don't have stories. They're just different. With my last job as Director of Resident Services, everything I did was with the residents. I spent very little time in my office or out in the community without interacting directly with a resident or family member. I sometimes feel like with my new job...I guess it's really not that new; I've been doing it for over two years now. At any rate, with this job I can easily get lost in budget reports, staffing issues, capital improvements, and all the other administrative tasks that cross my desk each day. To make matters worse, the work is never done. There is always something else that I should be doing. All too often, I am so busy getting things done for the residents that I forget to be there with them.

Tonight I was having one of those moments. It was 7:30pm on a Friday night, and I was still at work trying to get things done that had been on my to-do list all week--things that for whatever reason I felt could not wait another week. Contact vendors for pricing on new towels and pillow cases. Check. Finalize dining services department weekly schedule. Check. Write letter of recommendation for student intern. Check. In the middle of all this the receptionist called me to let me know that the phone was not working in the apartment of the resident who moved in today. "Did somebody check to make sure it is plugged in?" "Yes" "And it was working earlier, right?" "Yes, but now it won't dial out and you can't call it either." I hung up with a promise that I would check it on my way out.

I quickly wrapped up my work and headed up to this resident's room. He was in bed asleep already and did not hear my knocking or me calling his name as I entered his room. Normally I wouldn't have entered, but our phones are part of our emergency response system. Deciding that this couldn't wait I tried calling his name a few more times and then quietly went about my work of checking his phone. I was somewhat embarrassed when he suddenly woke up and found me next to his bed.

"I'm so sorry to disturb you. I'm here to check on your phone."
"Bless you for coming."

There was nothing obvious to indicate what was wrong with the phone, but on a whim I unplugged it from the wall and plugged it back in again. The lights flashed, and everything was up and working again. We had a brief conversation wherein I asked if he had everything he needed and whether or not the staff was taking care of him. As I turned to leave I said, "Well welcome home. I'm glad you're here." To my surprise he teared up. I got nervous thinking that perhaps I had upset him. I looked around his room. It was bare except for two items of furniture which he had insisted were the only things he needed, a bed and a nightstand. His furniture from his home won't arrive until next week. I added, "At least I hope you will feel at home here." Through his tears he said, "I do. I really do. I've always liked this place. I used to come and visit my friend here years ago. I'm 92, and now I just want to live out the rest of my life in peace here." He thanked me again for coming.

Budget reports. Worth it. Dealing with the constant changes in the kitchen staff's schedule. Worth it. Making sure they have enough clean towels. Worth it. And if that student intern gets to go on to grad school in gerontology so that she can eventually have moments like this one, staying late to do her letter of recommendation will have been worth it too.