Thursday always find me in the hospital working in the cozy cafe for visitors and staff. Some people come in once, twice, or more in a day --- looking for a meal or snack. Maybe a fresh pot of brew. But sometimes they want more. They want to talk.
I try to keep a smile going because the hospital staff is usually tired and the family and friendly visitors are worried or stressed. It's easy to spot the ones who want to talk to someone, so I lend an ear, with an occasion "oh, yes" thrown in between the talker's breathes. Some have been up all night or drove a long distance to be with someone sick. Even with all the new confidentiality laws, I let them talk.
A couple of weeks ago, a elderly lady came in, dressed in sweats, and sporting a top-knot of white unruly hair. She was gregarious enough, explaining that her older brother was there and how he didn't know her because he had Alzheimer's. But he did know that they loved each other and she could always get him to eat. She told me about her brother's son, who had lost his wife, forcing her nephew to rear his three children alone. Since she is unmarried, the lady tries to help them all including her brother.
As I listened intently, with only adding that they were very lucky to have her around and able to help them, she seemed to relax a bit. After she got her food, she left, only to return in a few minutes with a small album of family photographs. She wanted to show me everyone, names and short bios, and I did my best to be attentive and wait on other customers! It was like she didn't realize what was going on around her while people ordered sandwiches and stuff over the top of her head! I could tell people were perturbed with her hogging one end of the counter.
In the entire day, it only took a few minutes of my time to make someone feel better. That's one reason I enjoy being retired so much --- I now have more time to listen.