Hi, my name is not Freida

She came in the entrance with a walker. I noticed her because she looked somewhat bewildered about where she needed to go after she went through screening. I know that “bewildered” feeling very well!

“Hi!, I said, do you need help with anything? “ She assured me she did not and was just waiting for her daughter to take her to her appointment.

She wasn’t wearing a mask so I grabbed one for her and stood by her in case she needed help. It can’t be easy trying to manoeuvre a walker with both hands and put a mask on with those same two hands. She was such a beautiful lady with a kind disposition, I listened as she told me that she had used to live here but was now in the retirement residence.

Her daughter came over and she introduced me, which was lovely, I always do enjoy a good conversation! I could hear my name being called loudly so excused myself, another caregiver was calling me over to tell me about her rapid test . I reluctantly left my new acquaintances and went back to my station to speak to the other caregiver.

Not long after, I looked up from exit screening and saw the lady and her daughter coming towards me. I asked them if they had any new symptoms and what her name was. (I needed to have that information to check her out . ) She gave me her last name so I could find her in the system and said “ Your first name is “Freida?” She paused and said quietly “ Legally yes” , but my name is not Freida, I go by “ Fela”, Freida is the name the Germans gave me”. Fela is Hebrew and it’s the name I took on after ending up in Israel after the war. “. She started to tell me her story, that she spent four years in a concentration camp. How she was buried alive and managed to escape. That she had all of her teeth pulled out from the Germans and that was only a small part of what she went through.

I stood in silence as she told me that they had killed her mother at 42 years old and all of her family that she knew of had died in the camp . How she had to have six surgeries in Israel after the war just to put herself back together.

“ I’m sure you don’t want to hear about all of this”. She said. “ Actually, I do, I’m so grateful you are sharing your story with me, I’m honoured to meet you”, I said . Immediately, I wondered if that was the right thing to say. How do you respond to someone who has endured and survived something so heinous and cruel? All I knew was that I didn’t have the language to express it properly. I hoped my response would tell her that I did want to hear her and I was humbled by it.

Fela went on to tell me that she has been very blessed by God since then and now had a beautiful family with children and grandchildren and that she was very grateful for the life she was given afterwards.

I felt almost paralyzed as I looked up and realized a long line of “socially distanced” staff was waiting to be screened to leave for the day. She realized it at the same time and said her goodbye in Hebrew which translated meant “ Be happy in God”. As I watched her walk out the exit doors, I fought the urge to run after her , I literally felt I was in the presence of greatness and didn’t want it to end. “ I hope to see you again soon”. Thank you so much for sharing with me” . I called after her. The gravity of what she had told me hit me like a ton of bricks causing me to turn to my co worker and tell her “ I need a minute”.

I went back to the booth and cried. I’ve cried at work before but this was different, I’ve never had to remove myself because I was overwhelmed.

My belief in what the care home was doing to protect residents and staff has been tested many times over the past six months. Was it too much, too painful for the residents, is it even real?

For the 100th time since I started working as a screener, my hope was renewed. To everyone who says that putting everyone in lockdown to protect the elderly is wrong, I would say , I have heard you, I don’t know anything really , sometimes I do feel like we are flying by the seat of our pants BUT I do not believe the elderly are expendable. I do not believe that their life is less valuable than any of ours. I do believe that we have to do whatever we can to protect vulnerable people , I do believe that they still have a story to tell. Sometimes we are going to get it wrong, but if there is a chance, even a small chance, that by us giving up a part of our lives temporarily for the good of all,it is worth it. It is worth every lonely night, every teardrop, every video call, and every moment of fear and doubt. We have to keep fighting, even if we are not always successful . We have to keep using our voice for the ones who don’t have a voice, even if we are sometimes wrong.

My heart is grateful and I know we will get through this . We have to be kind to each other. The alternative is unthinkable.

Her name is “ Fela” and she changed my life.