Reaching Out

I've spent the past 15 days at the hospital, helping my Dad take care of my Mom, who suffered a stroke. She's been in ICU the whole time.  Today as I was walking from her room to the cafeteria, I was half in a daze when this tiny little indian woman, dressed in the hospital's cleaning staff uniform, stopped me in the hall.  We were passing each other in opposite directions and she literally reached out her hand and grabbed my arm. 

"How is your Mother?" she asked. Took me a few seconds to realize that she was the woman who comes into to clean Mom's room every day, emptying the trash and stuff like that. I don't recall doing anything other than smilng gamely at her when she came in. But I guess she saw my Mom's decline and she reached out, literally, to ask me about it.  We chatted for a couple of minutes then I thanked her profusely for even asking. 

The people in my parents' neighborhood have been amazingly supportive and organized. They have a schedule in place to brng food to my Dad and I every couple of days. And the neighbors across the street set up an e-mail distribution list to brodacast updates on Mom's condition. Both neighbors and distant relatives are on it. 

Funny thing though, that hasn't stopped the calls from coming in. People still want to call and even though they know everything they need to know. They still want to talk to us anyway.  Just to talk. 

Both of these incidents remind me that there's a difference between getting information and reaching out. Believe me, I'm not complaining.