Motza'ei Shabbos

This Shabbat I spent at the hospital. I went there for a few specific people, including that lady I wrote about in my earlier post. But as it goes, you go to visit one person, but you soon find others who need your help. It happened to me twice this Shabbat. Once, it was when I was about to visit that lady, but then I heard shouts from another room. I went to the other room and saw a 60-70 year old woman, very very thin and frail, very sweet looking. She was trying to get out of the bed, and she was screaming that they should let her out. I put my hand on her shoulder, smiled at her, looked her in the eyes, and asked her how she was doing. She looked at me, and poured her heart. I explained to her that I am not allowed to take her out, that the doctor does not permit that, but that I'll stay with her for a little while. Does she need water, tea, anything? I gave her my hand, she was clinging to it. And I started singing to her a song we sing on Shabbat night about the angels, Shalom Aleichem. She calmed down gradually, she lay down with her whole body on the mattress, and stopped trying to climb out. I felt it was soothing for her. Then I switched to other songs, some Jerusalem songs, some Bach melody, and the melody of the lonely shepherd. We do not play instruments on Shabbat, so my voice cords were my instrument, and it was not so bad. When I sang the Bach and lonely shepherd melodies, she said: "what a beautiful song!", and throughout this singing session she took my hand, brought it to her face and kissed it. Even though it is a bit uncomfortable for me to have my hand kissed by a stranger, and a patient at that, I let her. We were looking at each other, and I felt she was calming down. She no longer wanted to climb out and she was no longer shouting. Soon, as she was laying on her back, she closed her eyes, and fell asleep. I stayed there, singing those songs to her, until I thought she was fast asleep, and I left. The next day when I went there, she was totally calm and peaceful, and I felt so grateful for it. She no longer needed me.
Interestingly, that next day (which was actually today), someone else in her room was screaming. I went there to see who it was and if I can do something to help. It was an 81 year old lady. She had only two teeth in her mouth, and she seemed like she was not completely "there", mentally. She was shouting and screaming. I went there, smiled at her, put my hand on her shoulder in a reassuring gesture, held her hand, looked her deeply in the eyes, smiled a shining, optimistic smile to make her feel like everything is OK. She couldn't talk, so I just held her hands, squeezed them affectionately. She then squeezed my hands back. We stood there, squeezing each other's hands, looking at each other. I then sang for her as well. She surprised me so much when she managed to say Todah Rabbah. I was shocked that she could say that. She repeated it a few times. Then I sang to her a song about Yerushalaim, Jerusalem. And she said "shel Zahab" (yes, with a b instead of a v). It was so nice, so sweet. I realized that she was completely with me, even thought she couldn't communicate verbally so much, but she was communicating emotionally. She took my hand, brought it close to her face, and kissed it, many times. Again, I didn't object, even though it's not something I feel comfortable with, as I wrote above. It was funny and interesting that it was almost like a replay of what had happened a day earlier with her neighbor to the same room (their beds are not adjacent - there was a third woman between them, so it's not like she was immitating the first woman. It really came from her heart). I stayed there for two hours, squeezing her hands, caressing her head, letting her drink her liquid meal, singing to her, looking at her with a smile. It was hypnotizing, and I think both of us were hypnotized. It was hard to leave her. I saw a tear rolling on her cheek. Only one tear. Was it really a tear, or a result of her drinking her liquid meal? I don't know. But there was so much warmth and gratitude in her gaze as she was looking in my eyes and saying Todah Rabbah. After two or so hours, I felt it was time to go. She didn't let me. She held my hand very strongly. So I stayed. I tried to leave a few times again, until she finally released her grip of my hand. I waved goodbye, and she waved back. I blew a kiss in the air, and she did the same, I repeated it a few times, and she did too. It was so gratifying to see her like this. I hope that she would stay calm like this for a long long time. Both of these woman are childless and have no family, so I learned later. Both of them are originally from Morocco (which may explain the hand kissing? I wonder). Both of them have a very sweet, delicate soul, I could see it. I feel so privileged to be able to be there on the right time. It made my going to the hospital this shabbat worth while. I feel like I went there especially for them, even though I didn't know them before.
I wish the hospitals would be filled with volunteers. People there, especially old ones, need it so badly. I wish people knew it. I wish it would be something that everyone does from time to time. You get so much satisfaction from doing this. It's like your life is becoming full of meaning, you feel like you're doing something that is needed, and it is so great. I wish these stories would inspire people to go and do the same in their countries. I want to remember these stories and to never forget them. Knowing myself, I'll probably rush forward and leave these memories behind. I only hope it would inspire people to do the same - do as much as you can to make this world a better place!