Mickey

I met Mickey on a Saturday in the midst of the worse outbreak I had seen so far at the care home. The residents were not allowed to leave their floors because it was spreading so quickly. There was an atmosphere of quiet fear and sadness in my mind. It weighed heavily on my heart. My job was just to screen people for symptoms as they came in but the only people I saw were designated caregivers and staff members.

During this month, you would never know there were residents except for the odd time someone would have to go to another hospital for treatment.

I remember working many shifts where I would walk by the dentist office, hair salon, marketplace, former gift shop and library and just feel a sense of sadness. Sadness for the residents I couldn’t see but knew they were there. Sadness that just 8 months before that, they had so much more quality of life and liberty.

They had visitors, dance programs, concerts and hugs.

Now, everything was closed with the exception of the marketplace and gift shop which was repurposed into a covid testing station and an area to make mask bags.

It was still hard for me to believe that we packed over 1700 masks a day every day in an area that was formerly a gift shop for visitors. It bothered me constantly when I thought of the waste those 1700 masks were creating and also a place where people could browse for gifts for their loved ones was now a place where we made masks to protect people from each other.

Every week when I went to get my Covid test, my eyes would always fall on a sign advertising used books in what was once the marketplace. 2 books for $1. I don’t know why the sign fascinated me so much except for the fact that books have always my first love and the thought of finding a treasure in a pile of pre-owned books was something that always made me happy.

Week after week, I stared at that sign as a symbol of what once was and also to distract myself from having something stuck so far up my nose I’m sure.

On this particular Saturday, I was sitting behind the screening desk catching up on some work when one of co-workers came around the corner and broke the quiet. ( Not me for once 😂.)

He looked a bit flustered which was unusual for him and said really quickly “ There is a resident at exit screening who wants to put a letter in the mailbox outside”. What do I tell him? Oh and he isn’t wearing a mask!”

I knew why he was flustered, I was as well. We knew very well that the residents were not supposed to be off their floors and we weren’t allowed to let them outside if they did come down.

I came out of the booth and saw Mickey for the first time. He was a tall gentleman, very dapper and put together. He used a walker and was standing quietly on the other side of the table waiting for the verdict on whether he could mail his letter.

“ Hi!” I immediately said and and smiled. How can I help?”

He said, “ I have a very important letter and I would like to mail it in the mailbox that is 2 feet outside the door.

His tone was not aggressive in anyway but a mixture of dignified assertiveness.

He was right, it was literally 2 feet outside the door. My immediate reaction was to say” I would be happy to mail it for you if you would like”. ( After all, that would solve everything- the letter would be mailed and I wouldn’t be breaking any rules).

In a very steady polite voice, he said” I would like to put this in the mailbox myself “.

I remember my mind racing, this was such a small thing, how did everything come to this? All he wanted was the personal dignity to mail his own letter. “But the rules” my mind said.. this isn’t allowed, what if something happens? What if I get in trouble? What if I lose my job?

I stalled and asked him if he could put on his mask. “ he immediately apologized and said he had forgotten but would put it on right away. Stalling time was over as he put his mask on and looked at me with clear eyes waiting.

In that moment, I decided to choose dignity as long as I could make sure he would be safe. “ Of course you can mail it, as a matter of fact, I’ll open the door for you and wait so you don’t have to go all away around the building to get back in”. He smiled in appreciation, he knew I was going with him for a reason but he still had his dignity.

I held the door open for him as he took the few steps out of the door and mailed his letter.

“Thank you “he said when he came back inside. “ You know, I understand the rules but it’s hard for me to accept that I have to get permission from a young kid to walk two feet outside the door”. He looked at me with tears in his eyes which of course brought tears to mine. I forced a smile through the tears and was overwhelmed by the urge to know who this man was.

“ I can’t imagine how hard this is for you, it isn’t my co-workers fault, he is just following the rules and he wants to make sure everyone is safe. “ I know, I know”, while still shaking his head. He seemed so sad but resigned at the same time. “ I haven’t been able to go off my floor for a month”, he said, we are only able to stay in our neighbourhoods so the longest walk I go on these days is about 10 feet.

“This pandemic scares me”, but it also scares me that I’m losing so much strength and mobility from inactivity. I just don’t know which is worse.”

I asked him some more questions because he seemed like he wanted to talk. He volunteered that it had been extra hard for him lately. His daughter wanted to come over and take care of him( She was living in Dubai). He had told her no, it wasn’t safe here, she should stay put until the cases settled down. The letter he was mailing was so she could take care of some of his property that was being sold.

Of course he wanted to mail it himself I thought. Anyone could understand that. “ I’m so sorry you are having to go through these circumstances, I wish there was something I could do make things better”.

“ You already have he said, its not every day that I get to talk to a young teenager like you”. I laughed out loud at that one and said” Actually it was my lucky day to have had the opportunity to meet you, you are just lovely!.. “My name is Michelle and I’m so glad to have met you”. He smiled and said his name was Mickey with a coy smile.. “Want to know how I got that nickname “?

“Of course I do”!! I smiled. Well, he said, I got the nickname when I was about 15.. We were playing a baseball game against one of our schools biggest rivals and it was so close the whole game, no one knew what would happen. He took me through the entire first 8 innings, they got 2 home runs, the other team got three, the next inning, they got three, the other team got two. Back and forth inning after inning.

When he got to the 9 the inning, I was literally on the edge of my seat.. Who would win? It was so close!! What was going to happen..???

He set it up perfectly, it was his turn to bat, the bases were loaded and they were down two runs. The pitcher threw the first pitch, Mickey watched the way he held it and how his hand turned when he threw it trying to anticipate where it would go. Strike one! He had misjudged by a fraction in his prediction and got a piece of the ball outside of the strike zone. The pitcher threw the next ball, this time, Mickey didn’t swing, he wasn’t sure if it was good. Strike two! But Mickey had watched him throw twice, he knew the angle his hand turned just as he let go of the ball. He waited, it was now or never. I was on pins and needles by this point.. “What happened”?? I said. Well, the pitcher threw the ball and this time Mickey knew exactly where it would go, he reenacted the whole scene by raising his arms around the imaginary bat and swung to show me exactly how he did it! Home run!!!! I was both elated and terrified! In all the excitement, I had forgotten he let go of his walker to show me the swing. Holy crap! Can I catch him if he falls? I thought. My fears were unfounded as he placed his hands on the walker again with so much happiness in his eyes at the memory. It was a home run-they won the game. All of his players grabbed him and held him in their shoulders shouting “ Mickey”! Mickey! Mickey!!! I looked a little quizzical, I think because he explained that Mickey Mantle was a huge baseball star at the time. Ah, now I get it I thought.

Oh my gosh, what a great story I said!!! He was smiling widely now at the memory. You see, he said, I was once able to do things and do them well. My eyes welled up again, “ Thank you for sharing this with me, I hope that we can talk again sometime. To me, you are still doing a lot and doing it well! You are going through an unbelievably hard time and still making the best of it, still trying to do what you can, you are still standing Mickey and I’m honoured to have met you”!

I wish I could have hugged him, I wish I could have had the words to tell him how he impacted me. I wish I knew how to tell him that he had given me a light in a place that had felt so empty recently. I told him as much as I could with words that didn’t come close to conveying how important I thought he was. As much as I love words, they can be limiting at times so I put all of the love I could in its eyes and said again, “Thank you, Mickey, this story will stay with me forever”.

As he left to go back upstairs, I again thought (as I had many times in my life) how we can choose to be a light in the darkness, we can choose our reactions, we can choose dignity, love, and respect for every soul. Without a doubt, Mickey was my light in the darkness that day and I will be forever grateful.❤️