'What are you doing here? You are wasting your time.'
That sounded like my conscience. Have you ever asked that question yourself? I have, many times I reflected on my actions or inactions. Especially when things get rough.
This time, my brain's voice was muted. I wasn't hearing my own voice in my head. I have not gone mental. Yet. The voice is coming from an old lady, in her 80's, whilst I was about to give her medication.
'Dear, I'm giving you your medicine today. I'm one of the nurses here.'
'Well, you woke me up. I was sleeping soundly in the middle of the night.'
I checked the window. It is indeed November approaching the Winter Solstice, making the day shorter and the nights never-ending. It is mid-day, and the gloomy British weather is not helping my case at all.
'Mary* (not her real name), it is lunch time. Time for your tablets.'
'I should'nt really be here. I must go home. I am dying. I am wasting my time here.'
I sighed 'No, you're not dying, love.'
Her short-term memory loss really makes it hard for her to retain information. All I can do is make her understand and in return, understand her. And additional dose of patience for me won't hurt either. Dementia is such a silent pain for those who suffer from it.
She recounted her story of her younger years to me many times, most of the time, I try to stop the conversation and bring her back to the 'now' and the 'present.' But at this particular day, I am willing to try something else. I listened more, and I let her have my time. Maybe, it will change.
'You should be doing something else, you are still young. When I was your age, I was climbing up the mountains, and the Himalayas. I was fit and I could keep up with everyone. My boots I have given to somebody else already, but it was such a lovely experience.'
I was responding to her that I have been wanting to do the same. Picturing her then as to her state now wherein she has an injury to her leg, it must be painful for her while recalling her trek.
'I love to take photographs. I was taking them and keeping them as my souvenir. I like to take photos of the people. You see, it's not just the place when you travel, it is mostly the people. On how lovely and kind they are. You will learn a lot from them.'
If I'd met her in a time-travel to the past, she'd be a fantastic tour-guide. Travel bloggers will have no chance on her.
'I took a trans-siberian train from Moscow to Beijing!'
This is where it got more interesting. She's not good recalling the years or dates, but I am assuming this is post-WW2, around 1950's-60's.
'During that time, not many have managed to take the travel, but I did. And when I got to China, I taught some of the children there. I loved it. It was a great time on the long journey on the trains. It was cold, but it was worth it.'
She continued after taking a sip of water.
'The train announcer would tell us when to cover the windows when we were crossing Russia. They were trying to keep some of the things they were doing there at that time. Perhaps some military construction or something else. But because the journey is so long, we would have many stops. We would be able to get some fresh air and stretch our legs to walk around the small towns. There I took photos.'
The photo hobbyist inside me is wishing, hoping that she managed to keep some of the shots over the years. It would've been priceless.
'In China, I loved the food and the people. I think nowadays it is very different, but then, it was really nice.'
And her attention got back to the 'now.' She asked me: 'Where are you from?'
'Philippines' I answered with a confident snappy reply. 'Definitely a far long train ride from here.'
'Oh, I see. Why are you here? You should be travelling. You're young, you shouldn't stay here for long. There's lots to see.'
'I think you are right, hopefully soon I'll get the chance to do so.' Mary must've read my mind and my interests.
'I still remember the time I went on a plane for the first time. It was one of the first few trans-atlantic flights. It was something you would never forget. We were flying over Canada on the way to America. The pilot then said to me: 'Would you like to come and see the front view inside the cockpit?' And I obliged. There was this massive windshield in front of the airplane. And there, you would see in front a view you would never ever have seen before.'
Her eyes widened with glee and traces of her old youth. I have imagined seeing the icy capped mountains that she have witnessed as if I have by just looking at her smile.
In a few seconds, she asked me a familiar question:
'What are you doing here? You are wasting your time.'
I smiled. This time without a sigh. I was happy for her. I am relieved and left feeling content that despite Mary's state at the 'now', I am assured she did have a fantastic 'journey' and a meaningful life. Her memory may not be as great as it used to be, but if I would be given such great life-changing experiences like hers, I will be comforted by that.
I will also go back to my own 'Trans-Siberian train rides' and 'Trans-Atlantic flights' and make sure I won't be wasting my time ever again.
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