Caregiving Story

My name is Elizabeth Sullivan, and I cared for an elderly man who was my neighbor first and my adopted grandparent after. I met this man after his wife passed away and he was stuck with a big messy house and the start of prostate cancer. He was lonely, scared, and needed help.

I offered my services to him, as his family lived far away and were unable to help him. I began with cleaning his home and organizing personal things and belongings. I washed his clothes, prepared meals, and accompanied him everywhere he needed to go.

As time went on, I developed this wonderful friendship with him and he asked me to be a live-in care giver. He was a teacher in West Haven for 30 years, and a decoder in the C.I.A. For 2 years, I got to have this wonderful friend whom I in turn loved deeply. He told me stories about his amazing life, about his time in the army, about his family, his children, and his wife and their relationship. I felt honored that he would share these things with me.

We played cards and watched our favorite T.V shows together. We went for walks when he was healthy enough, took drives, went to museums and on day trips. He was so smart--he taught me so much about life, and myself. Sadly, his prostate cancer was progressing, and I was taking him daily to radiation treatments.

I know with most cases you are not supposed to get attached, but I loved this man as a family member, not just a client. I would have done anything for him. In fact, I wished I could have taken all his pain. He grew sicker, and his moods changed drastically, as did his weight. Towards the end, he refused hospice and just ended up in the hospital with many complications. I sat by his side every day in the hospital, comforting him as much as I could. I regret to say he passed away this past October of prostate cancer. I miss him every day of my life.

The experience I had with him will never be forgotten. I took comfort afterward knowing that I did for him what his family didn't. I was there for him...and he meant so much to me. I keep a picture of him beside my bed now, and occasionally I talk to him. Even though I know he cannot answer, I feel he can hear me, and I know he's watching over me.