Beverly Engelman - Independent's Day

 

I've always thought of myself as a very independent person, doing things for myself and by myself. My father used to tell me, "Being independent is probably the best thing you can do for yourself because when you rely on yourself, you will never be disappointed or let down when other people don't live up to the expectations you have of what they should be doing for you." And this is the way I chose to live my life. So, it's not surprising that later on, when I had two hip replacements, in both instances I took myself to the hospital. I never thought of doing it any other way. And then as I got older and arthritis became a very important part of my life and I found that I couldn't walk as well as I used to, I went from a cane to a walker.

 

The walker had four wheels and handbrakes and a basket in which I could put things and a seat that I could sit on if I needed to. It became part of my life and a constant companion. And I felt it deserved some kind of recognition. So, I decided to call it Alice Walker.  [audience laughter] Now, aside from the obvious reason I chose that name, Alice Walker and Celie, the main character from The Color Purple, led very difficult lives, but they were survivors, and I felt I shared this with them. Over my 80 years, I've had some hard times, but I am a survivor. So, Alice and I walked all over the Upper west side together. There was no place I felt I could not go and nothing that I could not do with Alice by my side, or should I say, in front of me. [audience chuckles]

 

And all of this came to a crashing halt on September 20th of 2014 when an MRI revealed that I had had a stroke. And I wound up at New York Presbyterian Hospital Stroke Unit. It was there that I encountered two of the most devastating symbols of total dependence, the call button and the bedpan. The first time I rang the call button, it took so long for the nurse to respond, I was sure she was coming from a galaxy far, far away. [audience chuckles] And if there's anything worse than waiting for a bedpan, it's waiting and waiting and waiting for someone to take it away. I realized how dependent I had become on the people around me, and it was a very frightening experience. And after five days, the doctor said, "You're not ready to go home yet. You won't be able to take care of yourself. You have to go to a rehab place."

 

The social worker gave me a choice of several places. And I had heard about Amsterdam House, and it had a pretty good reputation, so that was my choice. It couldn't have been a better choice. I was there for three months, and every day I would get physical therapy and occupational therapy, and even on the weekends, I would get the same thing. I got all the help I needed, but I was encouraged at every step of the way to do as much as I could for myself. And so, I went from the wheelchair back to Alice, who had been waiting patiently for me in my room. [audience chuckles] And we were able to go to the bathroom by ourselves. And instead of having the food brought to my room, I was able to walk back and forth to the dining room three times a day. And I even was able to get outside for short walks. I was back to living the kind of life that I was used to.

 

In January, it was determined that I was ready to go home. And while I was anxious to get back to my apartment, I was a little overwhelmed by the idea that I was going to be by myself, even though I knew I was going to get physical therapy and occupational therapy on an outpatient basis and even services from visiting nurse people. When I got home, the first thing I saw when I got off the elevator was a bunch of balloons that had been attached to my front door welcoming me home. And I thought, “Wow, this was totally unexpected.” And that was just the beginning. When I opened my front door, this old 40-year-old carpeting had been removed, leaving a bare wooden floor and extraneous furniture that had collected over the past 40 years was gone. So, it was easy for me to maneuver my walker around the apartment. In the kitchen, my refrigerator had been cleaned out and was restocked with a fresh assortment of food. My old mattress was gone, replaced by the one that I had ordered online and it was set up ready for me to use. And my Venetian blinds that were as bad shape as the carpeting had been removed and my apartment was filled with light. And I thought, “Who has done all this for me?”

 

I found out it was a team of people from my building including the building staff, my neighbors, and my friends. And I was totally overwhelmed because in all honesty, in all the time I lived there, well, I was friendly and greet people on the elevator and say, "Hi, how are you?" I never thought of asking them for anything, and I never really got to know anyone that well. But I decided since they had done this for me, it was time for me to reach out to them. And so, I put a note on my front door and it said, "The front door is unlocked. Please come in for a visit when you have a chance." And over the past eight months, almost every day, someone has come in sometimes to ask me if I needed anything, but a lot of times, just to come in and talk.

 

We would share stories about our lives, about our families, friends, things were interested in. And I realized, “You know what? I'm not alone. I'm part of a caring community of wonderful people, and not just anonymous tenant in a New York City apartment building.” And I thought, “It's not such a terrible thing to get help when I need it, especially when someone says to me, ‘How can I help you?’" This allows me to determine what it is that I need and want. And so now I choose to think of myself as an independent person with benefits.