WHEN I PUSH Aunt Engie's wheelchair through the church lobby or a shopping mall, some folks steer a wide path around us. I just look at them and smile. I understand, because a year ago, I would have responded the same way. Before I started taking care of Aunt Engie, I felt nervous around people in wheelchairs because I didn't know what to do or say. But Aunt Engie changed me. Visiting her at the nursing home has exercised my spiritual muscles and made me a better person in many ways.
I was born and raised on the East Coast, in Virginia. When I was seven years old, our family of six piled into our 1957 Cadillac and made the 3,000 mile trek to visit Aunt Engie in California, where she'd lived all her life. It was the first time I'd met her. Before long, we were sitting on the floor, laughing and playing tiddly-winks. I loved my Aunt Engie and I knew she loved me.
Decades later, when several doctors diagnosed her as having dementia, our family came together and had some difficult discussions. We reached the consensus that Engie would be safer in a skilled nursing facility. Some of our family members are Christian Scientists and some aren't, and we all love Engie very much. We talked about what she would want if she were the one making this decision. For the past few decades, she'd relied on medical care, and we wanted to respect her wishes in that regard. Since much of her family now lives in the St. Louis area, we decided to bring her here to be with us.
