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Wednesday, December 24, 1997

Volunteers reach out at Christmas

By RACHEL POLLACK / Corpus Christi Caller-Times

CORPUS CHRISTI, Texas -- A Christmas visit to an elderly person isn't just a nice thing to do; it might also save a life.

Rosemary Patterson remembers hearing about one visit that changed the lives of a depressed older couple.

"Last year, a caseworker was working with a couple in poor health," said Ms. Patterson, who works for the Texas Department of Human Services in Austin. "She told me they were contemplating suicide. They felt no one cared. They were very isolated."

Then, through an Austin program called Adopt a Community Care Client, the couple received a visitor on Christmas Day, Ms. Patterson said.

"Someone adopted that couple, took them food and talked to them. They decided somebody did care and decided not to commit suicide. The caseworker said, 'I never could have guessed it.' "

Reaching out to the elderly during the holidays can be crucial, said Dr. Cecil Childers, an adult and geriatric psychiatrist. "Suicide rates go up nationally," he said. "It's a pretty rough time."

The holidays are typically a time of reminiscing, which can cause depression for elderly patients who have lost family or are alone, Childers said. The presence of an acquaintance, or even a stranger, can "help dilute the emotional intensity" of the holidays.

Frank Villarreal, 70, is one of those who reaches out to those in nursing homes year-round -- that's because he knows firsthand what it is like to be lonely and depressed in a nursing home. Villarreal, who could opt to spend Christmas with family, will spend his holiday visiting nursing homes and playing conjunto music with a group of fellow retirees, he said.

Villarreal spent three months at Alameda Oaks Nursing Center while recovering from a leg amputation a year after his wife's 1991 death.

"I lost my leg on the 2nd or 3rd of June. She died on the 7th," he said. "I felt like somebody took a line and split me down the middle."

At the nursing home, Villarreal suffered from a deep depression.

One day, an activities director brought a guitar to his room, and Villarreal, always a music lover and once a guitar player, was entranced. One of his daughters, visiting from Houston, witnessed his excitement and bought him a guitar.

"In the nursing home, I picked it up and started playing," he said. "I started going room to room talking to people, and then I got on this mail run. They started calling me the mailman." Villarreal's volunteering was a turning point in his life.

"I didn't know what I was going to be able to do with one leg, if I'd be able to work, or drive again. I thought 'What's going to be out there for me?' "

Villarreal returned to his home and discovered that despite his disability he was both able to drive and live on his own, but he kept coming back to share his time and his warmth with Alameda Oaks residents. In 1995, he was selected Life Care Centers of America Central Division Volunteer of the Year.

Living on his own in his small house and receiving home care, Villarreal could easily have become homebound. Toes were recently removed on his intact leg due to bad circulation, and Villarreal is not able to drive. But his fellow musicians drive him to and from performances.

Rachel Jimenez, a nursing assistant, comes daily to change Villarreal's bandages.

Villarreal does not grimace as she cuts through the gauze or applies ointment. He lifts himself carefully from bed to wheelchair and moves his wheelchair around his modest home, which contains only the barest essentials -- including a small radio.

"I go to sleep with music and wake up with music," he said, grinning.

Rather than retreating due to illness, Villarreal continues to play with the group Gema.

Ms. Jimenez calls Villarreal "one of our favorite patients. He and his friends that play music in nursing homes just seem to cheer everyone up."

While nursing homes buzz with activity during the month of December, many patients are alone on Christmas Day, and visitors drop off sharply during the month of January.

As many as 40 percent of patients at Alameda Oaks Nursing Center may be without family on Christmas Day, says activities director Sue Hoefling. Some are completely alone, and others, because families may have to travel long distances to see them, may only see relatives before or after the holidays.

"When most people come here, they have visitors in the first three to six months, but then it becomes more and more difficult for people to come," Ms. Hoefling said. "They get involved in their own lives. Sometimes they don't come because their own health starts to fail, or because it becomes too personal. They feel like that could be them but for the grace of God."

Frances Parker, an Alameda Oaks Nursing Center resident, is one of those patients whose family does not live in Corpus Christi, and is unlikely to see relatives on Christmas Day.

Ms. Parker, 86, leans forward in her wheelchair and strokes the arm of a visitor, her voice cheerful as she talks about her life. "I've outlived 11 people in my family, my parents, my adopted parents, the family I married into and my son," she said. "But I've had a wonderful life."

Her eyes are sky blue, the pupils long slits that do not admit light. Ms. Parker cannot see.

"The tragedy of my eyes is that I could have an eye transplant, but someone would have to die." And Ms. Parker knows her age, 86, makes a transplant unlikely.

She loves talking about her memories, such as working in Lichtenstein's lingerie department store -- "Morris Jr. (Lichtenstein) said if I'd just get the facts down he'd publish a book with my stories" -- and the boy she fell in love with at 16, whose mother didn't think Parker was good enough for her son -- "Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I ever saw him again, because I loved him so dearly."

She talks lovingly of a couple who visits her regularly on weekends. "Sometimes I even put my friends like that ahead of my family."

Ms. Parker has "never met a stranger," Hoefling said. Her exuberance and warmth draw in even the standoffish.

When she talks of Christmas, Ms. Parker is hopeful. She remembers a Christmas when her daughter-in-law flew down to Corpus Christi and Ms. Parker returned to Missouri City to be with her family for the holiday.

"But I could see light then," she said. "I don't know whether I'll be alone on Christmas."

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Distributed by The Associated Press