My Lady Friend

"To enter this brotherhood, we require you hold these obligations your life long.  Do you accept?"

"I do"

"To defend the weak.  Your life long.  Do you swear?"

"I swear."

"To guard the honor of woman.  Your life long.  Do you swear?"

"I swear."

The actual ritual is secret.  The actual oaths are secret.  But that's their effect.  It's part of our public face and public commitment.  Generations have taken it.  I took it.  My father took it.  My grandfather took it.  Our lives long.

I'm old, but she's forty years older.  She has a double name.  A very Mississippi thing to do.  One eye was taken away, and a patch now covers it.  She weighs no more than eighty-eight pounds, but she was determined to attend the United Methodist Church services at St. Catherine's village.

I met her while she struggled to remember the code for the security door leading out of the skilled nursing part of the center into the independent living part where the chapel is.  Two certified nursing assistants were beside her, trying to figure out if she was supposed to be there and if she was supposed to travel out of the skilled nursing area by herself.  At first, I thought perhaps she was confused.  Sometimes my neighbors can get terribly confused.  If the confusion gets worse, they're moved to a building named for my father, where they receive special memory care attention.

"I'm trying to go to the chapel.  I want to go to the chapel.  I don't want to be late."  She said.

I was heading to the chapel myself.  Tuesday afternoon at four o'clock, different visiting Methodist ministers had a service every week.    If she knew she was headed where I was headed but just couldn't remember the code to open the door, told me her mind must still be pretty sharp and I should help her.  I called the nurse's desk.

"This lady would like to go to church.  Is she allowed?  I will take responsibility for making sure she gets there and back safely."  

I told her we had approval and I would escort her, so I asked the CNA to introduce us. Properly done, a gentleman always asks to be introduced by a trusted, neutral party.  Where we are, they don't come much more trusted than the CNA's who manage our lives.  

Introduced and approved, we were on our way.  She moved pretty slowly, so I matched her pace.  Continued small talk let me know she wasn't getting out of breath or overly tired.  That day her voice and breath were Solid and steady, and she told me about her life, her late husband, and how she enjoys being in the hall across the building from me.  By the time we reached the chapel door, we were very genuine friends.    

After the service, I made my way home with three ladies in tow.  Doctor Amazing, her willowy friend, and my new friend, Miss Two-Names.  Passing the nurse's station, I got a thumbs up for bringing back three.  I'm pretty sure they watched our progress on the closed-circuit television.  Doctor Amazing and her Friend were near their rooms, so I dropped them off and stayed beside Miss Two-Names for the trip to her room, two halls away.

Making our slow progress down the hall, she said, "Thank you for taking me.  It makes me feel like a lady again."

"I can't imagine a time when you weren't a lady,"  I said and handed her off to the nurses on her hall.  "Home again, safe and sound,"  I said.  

"I see you had company!"  The nurses said, and Miss Two-Names related the story of how we met and how pleasant the preacher was.  

In my parlance, calling anyone a "lady" marks and recognizes the many roles women play in our lives, beginning with giving us life and carrying us inside them until birth and in their arms after.  There's a feeling in some quarters that we should stop using words like "lady" because defining women separately from us can be used to restrain them.  "A lady doesn't do such things."  While I appreciate their position and feelings, in my parlance, the word is not to restrain them but to restrain me.  I am, by my oath, at their service.  

That my new friend had, at some point, ceased feeling like a lady was a bit hurtful to me.  She may not be young and strong, but she's still very much a lady and will be no matter what condition her earthly frame finds itself.  That I could rekindle those feelings in her made that Tuesday a very special day and made me commit myself as her special protector for as long as she needed a friend who made her feel like a lady.

After that day, my new friend's hall had a small outbreak of covid, so they had to go into fourteen-day quarantine.  In a facility like this, such extraordinary measures are necessary.  When the quarantine period was over, I asked the nurse in her hall if Miss Two-Names could go to church with me.  "I'm ready to go now."  She said.  And, so she was and off we went.  

On the long walk to church, she told me the same stories she told me the last time.  I don't mind.  She found some energy and motivation in having a gentleman at her elbow.  It's a role I've played with many little ladies in the third and fourth score of their lives.

"I'll see you next week,"  I said when I dropped her off.

"Thank you for taking me.  You're my good friend."  She said, and I wished her goodnight.

The next week, I gathered my trio of Methodist ladies at the nurse's station for the trip to the chapel.  Miss Two-names was dressed for the occasion, but she had a pained look on her face as the approached us.  

"I, I, I don't know if I should go."  She said, panting for breath.  She turned to head toward her room, but I talked her into sitting a bit first to catch her breath.  Sitting so tiny in the wing-backed reception room chair, she couldn't catch her breath.  "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry."  She said, worried she upset my plans for the day.

I asked the nurse to have a CNA come with a wheelchair.  I didn't want her walking back to her room.  "You rest in your room," I said.  "I'll get the nurse to come to see you.  When church is over, I'll come to visit you and tell you how it was."    

At the chapel service, I thought only of her.  After it was over, I visited her room.  She was too tired to talk, so I patted her hand and said I'd check on her later.  Passing the Nurse Practitioner in the hall, I asked her to check on my friend.

The next morning, I asked one of the nuns if she'd seen my friend Miss Two-Names.  She said she was much better, so I visited her room and talked for a little while.  The nun thanked me for helping and watching over my friend.  "Maybe she's entering a new phase," the sister said. "Normally, she's able to make that walk without a problem."  "I hope not,"  I said.

Defend the weak.  Guard the honor of woman.  It comes with some heartache sometimes, but I bear it.  It's my oath.  I'll continue to visit my friend.  She should always, always feel like a lady.