A couple of years ago I was very busy visiting and helping a dear long-term friend who suffered from some mysterious illness which caused spells of partial paralysis. I had a key to his house and used it a few times when he pressed his life-alert button. At that time--and now--I was retired and not committed to any volunteer work or other duties. We had known each other more than fifty years, and he had helped me out many a time.
We spent a lot of time in doctors' waiting rooms, and hours in the emergency room. There were many tests, some hospital stays, and no firm diagnosis. He was declining rapidly in strength and in acuity. On release from his last visit to a hospital I managed to have him transferred to a well-regarded nursing home.
My friend, who was several years younger than I, had no family nearby. His other friends were all his contemporaries or younger and still involved with careers, young grandchildren, etc. None the less, his friends pitched in and visited often.
For a couple of years I had been helping my friend, who had lived well but modestly, collect information for his income tax preparer. He had substantial savings as well as good retirement income, so money wasn't a problem. When the nursing home staff advised me that round-the-clock care was needed that care was arranged. The women who stayed with my friend on 12-hour shifts were some of the kindest people I have ever met.
The nurses and the "sitters" all remarked that they had never before seen a dementia patient who was so pleasant and agreeable. My friend had beautiful manners and his life-time habit of being polite and kind never deserted him.
Health professionals were not at liberty to disclose information to me regarding my friend's medical records.
After his death my friend's insurance company denied payment to his son and sole heir. The reason was that my friend had suffered a wound when he fell during a vacation several years earlier, and that wound had been causing blood seepage in the brain. This was in the hospital records. My friend had not disclosed the falling incident when he purchased life insurance. He probably considered it unimportant and old news.
The insurance company, having a financial interest, was more diligent than the hospitals my friend had consulted during his decline.
This is a sad story and I hate its outcome. But what I treasure is this:
I carried a cup of ice cream and entered my friend's room at the nursing home. By then ice cream was the only thing he would eat. He was looking out the window and didn't notice me as I sat down beside him. After awhile he looked over and smiled in surprise. (I suppose it seemed to him that I had just suddenly appeared.) He said, "You're like a fairy godmother."
Too bad I didn't have those powers.