Arlene

Remember a couple posts back I rambled on about how lines get blurred between clients and providers? Well, it’s ok if you don’t remember – or if you didn’t read it at all – I barely remember it myself. The gist of it was how, over time, the lines between provider and client become more like confidant and friend, people who share deep, intimate things, and know much about one another’s lives. In the former post I rattled about how that blur ended up causing a little angst, hurt heart, and such. This time it’s the same; angst, hurt heart and such, but for a drastically different reason.

Arlene came into my life more than 20 years ago; her daughter was a client and sent her in to me. It was a tough start – Arlene was a formidable five-feet-tall. (was she even that tall??} But over time we got into our groove and knew the routine and things rocked along very steadily. Every three weeks she’d come see me. You learn a lot about a person when you see them that often, and yet last week I learned I hadn’t learned much at all. The Arlene I know was only a surface skim of the Arlene that was, and it was amazing to find out more about her.

My Ron and I have quite a few funny stories about Arlene. We poked fun at her and with her and My Ron and I even have a long-running saying we still use regarding an “incident” Arlene was in. Ever since the “incident,” when one of us leaves the salon on foot to run an errand, we say, “watch out for Arlene.” And I’m just gonna leave it at that. I’d never hear the end of it if I told the whole story.

So anyway, Arlene was a staple at the beauty parlor, and did her dead-level-best to keep us all straight. She succeeded most times, though a time or two I had to get stern with her and straighten her out. It never really phased either of us; we’d be back at it three weeks later.

But in the last handful of years things changed. Arlene lost her husband and daughter within six months. We thought she’d tank, but remarkably she proved us wrong. She did quite well, even unto thriving…..for a couple years. But then we started to notice things. She wasn’t as spry, may forget her appointment time here and there, she’d forget her belt, or leave something she needed in the car. All things very unlike her. It continued. The texting random letters was actually comical, and she’d fuss about that darn phone doing things she didn’t tell it to do, and she was still the formidable Arlene. But it was different.

The concern began to weigh on me, as it has in the past with other clients. I’ve gone to some crazy lengths to talk to doctors and family members of my people, and only after much angst on my part. Always I look back and know I should have reached out sooner, so that I could have helped sooner, but I can’t cry over that now. Everything happens in its time.

Arlene was not doing top notch, and I didn’t know how to find her son to express my concern. He and his wife and kids live literally all over the world, and I only knew his name, so I set in motion a plan to obtain the information I needed. I stopped at Panera, one of Arlene’s favorite places, and grabbed lunch, google mapped my way to her house, walked right up unannounced, and knocked. She was so surprised to see me standing there, food in hand, smiling like this was the most natural thing ever. “Well hello, My Dear,” she said, as she always did. She welcomed me in, asked me to sit and visit, showed me around. During our lovely visit I said, “Arlene, let me see your phone and make sure you haven’t blocked me again,” seeing as she’d accidentally done it once before. She gladly handed it over and I chatted as I scrolled until I found the information I needed. (Now look, let me tell you something right now. This isn’t my first rodeo with old folks who are losing it, and believe you me, they can get dang testy if they think you’re trying to imply they aren’t all together together. Don’t you dare question my motives. You’d do the same if someone you cared about was in a bad way.)

I reached out to her son, who introduced me to his wife and we began discussing all the things we needed to discuss. They were well aware of what was going on and were making a game plan, and they seemed quite happy to have me on the team. Arlene’s other friends had also reached out, and before long we were all keeping one another apprised and loving Arlene just a little more and differently.

Arlene happily moved into what I lovingly refer to as “the old folks apartment building.” Independent living, but all-inclusive and people around to keep an eye on you. I visited her a couple times, her friend Kathi would bring her to the salon for haircuts, and we’d all chat as needed. Then one day Kathi sent me a text that Arlene had been moved across the way to the “apartment” where they take care of you. She’d grown tired, I suppose, and was to the point of needing people to care for her. I went to visit every few weeks, and she always lit up whenever I came in her room. The decline was noticeable from visit to visit, but she always smiled, chatted, and called me by name. Even if she thought she was living in her dorm room from college, she still knew who I was and what I did for a living. Kathi texted me a couple weeks ago and asked if I could go to Arlene’s apartment and give her a haircut – Arlene wouldn’t let anyone at the assisted living touch it, and it was far out of control. I cut the front of it with her lying in her bed, and the nurses got her in her wheelchair for me to cut the back. She absolutely beamed. I told her she looked a mess when I got there, and she laughed, and we all told her how beautiful and how much better she looked after she got her cut. She couldn’t speak any longer, but the smile that never left her face was worth more than any words she could’ve possibly uttered. That was a Friday.

Then Monday came. or was it Sunday. I don’t rightly remember at this point. It all runs together. Her daughter-in-law messaged me and let me know that Arlene was going to Hospice House. It was time. Time to sit in the heavy, time to walk the last steps. Arlene’s son and daughter-in-law were out of town handling some business and couldn’t get back before Wednesday. Or was it Tuesday. Or Thursday. It all runs together. So I, and Arlene’s friends, passed the baton from morning to evening, sitting with her, talking to her, loving her as best we could. She knew we were there, but we received little-to-no response from her. Didn’t matter. She knew we were there. I pulled up Barbra Streisand on my phone and played for her for a couple hours – Barbra was a favorite. Then in came Patty to take the baton, as it were, and let me go home to sit in the heaviness alone. It was hard watching someone transition like that, but I was honored the family allowed me to be a small part of it.

I rubbed her now-frail shoulder, told her I loved her, and wished her sweet sleep, though I knew I’d not see her again. The next morning I awoke to the text, she’d passed peacefully with her family by her side. That’s never an easy one, but it was what she needed. Relief. She’d seen and done enough, live, loved and had enough tragedy for more than one lifetime, and was ready to see her beloved Dave. Bittersweet on our side, nothing but sweet on hers.

She’ll be missed by many, as was attested to at her memorial service. The casual gathering to honor her was perfectly lovely, and I so much enjoyed hearing her dear friends speak of her in such loving phrases. Of course, the one thing we ALL agreed on was her demand for punctuality – we ALL had suffered a scolding from her on that subject, and we all laughed about it. There were people there from all walks of life. Old friends, new friends, the lady from the pharmacy who’d become her housekeeper, but really was there more to visit than keep house, the other lady from the grocery who said she’d stop what she was doing to walk the store with Arlene because it was always such a laugh-filled time, her son’s friends who all had great stories to tell about Dave and Arlene, and on and on it went. Everyone I met, when I’d tell them I was her hairstylist, they’d each immediately say, “Oh, you’re her stylist! I’ve heard so much about you!” I was shocked each time. I had no idea she told people who I was in her life. She continued to surprise me even after she was gone.

I’ll miss that little lady. Twenty years is a long time to have someone in your space on a consistent basis. She definitely gave me a run for my money, but I wouldn’t have traded it.

So after all this rambling, which you by now know is my free therapy, I just wanna leave you with this. Don’t ever negate the impact you have on those around you. If you feel like someone is struggling in any way, do whatever it takes to reach out to their loved ones to let them know. After all, you may be the first one to bring it to their attention, and when the dust settles, you won’t regret having done your part. Sit in the heaviness with the people in your life. Sometimes – oftentimes – literally just sitting there is all they need. And love to the fullest. You’ll never regret that.