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today at work was pretty hectic, as it usually is on my shift due to the fact that my boss thinks i'm some superhuman manager machine and usually only gives me one cashier (everyone else gets two per shift usually). none-the-less i still (as usual) got all my shit done even though it took me scampering back and forth from the pharmacy to the front registers to whatever i was doing and back again.
during my chicken-with-it's-head-cut-off-fest i happened across and older gentleman who was standing in an aisle looking really confused. i stopped to ask him if he needed any help, and he said yes. so i ask what he's looking for, to which he replies "i don't know..." after a few minutes with him i realize that he's not 100% with me, and i'm naming off things trying to help him figure out what it is he's looking for. we continue this for about 10 minutes whereupon i ask if he'd like me to give him a minute to collect himself. he says yes, so i continue to run around like a bat about of hell.
about 10 minutes later i come back to him (and either his wife, caregiver or daughter maybe?!) and he's still perplexed as to what he came to the pharmacy for. he remembered that he *did* need dental floss, though that's not what he came for, so i walk him over to it. he then goes up to the floss to pick out what he wants, and his companion tells me that "he's not been the same since the brain cancer. they're doing chemotherapy but i think he's already lost too much." i place a hand on her shoulder and give her a squeeze with a reassuring smile, saying "well, if you guys come up with what he needs while you're at home, give us a call and we'll set it aside for him" then i promptly run to the front and duck down behind the cash registers to have a good hard cry...
see, just over a year ago my pop pop died from cancer. it was originally brain cancer, then it spread to his lungs, then stomach. i remembered at the funeral when people were talking about when they first noticed something was wrong (about 2 months before he died) he was forgetting silly things, like where the living room was and such. i remember when we visited him in the hospital just before he died, he met bobby (my nephew) and started crying. i think that's when he knew it was the end. we assembled the four generations of bob's (the very first died in WW2) for a few shots of the only generational pic of them, pop pop in the hospital bed, and he cried again. pop pop wasn't a man who cried, that's the main sign that pointed to the fact that our visit was in fact the last we'd have with him alive. he was with it, he knew exactly who i was, told me i was even more beautiful than my father said i was, kissed my cheek, my hand, told me to marry a good man and that he loved me. those were the last words we shared, aside from "i love you pop pop" when i left.
but just talking to that poor man, lost in the aisles of a drugstore, i pictured my pop pop in the same situation - the patriarch of an entire clan reduced to forgetting what he'd come to the drugstore for, and i kinda lost it. luckily the cashier i had is amazing, and the same thing had happened to her not long ago (only it was schizophrenia and an uncle, and it was with me so i could explain the schizophrenia to her a little better and make it less scary) and she was really cool about it.
but yeah, talk about reality smacking you in the face :(.
tomorrow, we move to the other side of the building. i like the new place better already. pics to come, i'm sure.
during my chicken-with-it's-head-cut-off-fest i happened across and older gentleman who was standing in an aisle looking really confused. i stopped to ask him if he needed any help, and he said yes. so i ask what he's looking for, to which he replies "i don't know..." after a few minutes with him i realize that he's not 100% with me, and i'm naming off things trying to help him figure out what it is he's looking for. we continue this for about 10 minutes whereupon i ask if he'd like me to give him a minute to collect himself. he says yes, so i continue to run around like a bat about of hell.
about 10 minutes later i come back to him (and either his wife, caregiver or daughter maybe?!) and he's still perplexed as to what he came to the pharmacy for. he remembered that he *did* need dental floss, though that's not what he came for, so i walk him over to it. he then goes up to the floss to pick out what he wants, and his companion tells me that "he's not been the same since the brain cancer. they're doing chemotherapy but i think he's already lost too much." i place a hand on her shoulder and give her a squeeze with a reassuring smile, saying "well, if you guys come up with what he needs while you're at home, give us a call and we'll set it aside for him" then i promptly run to the front and duck down behind the cash registers to have a good hard cry...
see, just over a year ago my pop pop died from cancer. it was originally brain cancer, then it spread to his lungs, then stomach. i remembered at the funeral when people were talking about when they first noticed something was wrong (about 2 months before he died) he was forgetting silly things, like where the living room was and such. i remember when we visited him in the hospital just before he died, he met bobby (my nephew) and started crying. i think that's when he knew it was the end. we assembled the four generations of bob's (the very first died in WW2) for a few shots of the only generational pic of them, pop pop in the hospital bed, and he cried again. pop pop wasn't a man who cried, that's the main sign that pointed to the fact that our visit was in fact the last we'd have with him alive. he was with it, he knew exactly who i was, told me i was even more beautiful than my father said i was, kissed my cheek, my hand, told me to marry a good man and that he loved me. those were the last words we shared, aside from "i love you pop pop" when i left.
but just talking to that poor man, lost in the aisles of a drugstore, i pictured my pop pop in the same situation - the patriarch of an entire clan reduced to forgetting what he'd come to the drugstore for, and i kinda lost it. luckily the cashier i had is amazing, and the same thing had happened to her not long ago (only it was schizophrenia and an uncle, and it was with me so i could explain the schizophrenia to her a little better and make it less scary) and she was really cool about it.
but yeah, talk about reality smacking you in the face :(.
tomorrow, we move to the other side of the building. i like the new place better already. pics to come, i'm sure.