Embracing the Uncomfortable

Personal Statement

A common approach and response to difficult situations often involves distancing oneself from reality, encouraged by poor attempts to deny emotion. This reflection exists to explore the concepts of such reactions and the paradoxical nature of finding comfort within discomfort itself.

Embracing the Uncomfortable

I’ll never forget the most content person I’ve ever met (though, I never did get his name). He had many strong qualities: he was a man of few words, while also leaving the room with a certain atmosphere that came from his seemingly stoic nature that could be confused with a stiff immovable stubbornness. I’m sure he had a story to tell but I could never ask him since he had just passed away that morning- and I was tasked with the job of cleaning him before the gurney came to push him out of the care facility. When it comes to the topic of death, it seems to invoke, at least in me, a sense of slimy gray dread. A feeling that I do my utmost to ignore. Yet, as I stood there looking at his expression, that dread was lessened- he was tranquil with eyes closed, backed up with a gaping mouth that resembled someone’s photograph taken mid-laugh.

I don’t know if he had been afraid of his situation before my services were required, but his absence of life put my work-partner in a state of anxious muttering to the rigor mortis-bound body. Her words kept him ‘alive’ in her mind, helping her avoid reality and carry on her job as if he were a living resident. The more she talked, the more dead he became to me. She hadn’t even known the individual, but it was a sample of the grieving process that would no doubt affect his family for the months ahead. Yet I was fine – if anything I was enjoying the break from the breathing residents that spammed the call light. And that’s when it clicked, I had come full circle. I was ok with that palpable dread that death invoked in me a bit over a year prior with my grandfather’s passing. I had embraced the uncomfortable and was better for it.

The Old Job and the Older Grandpa

I was working as a graphic designer just a year or so earlier. I had been a graphic designer for around 7 years – I even got an associate degree that essentially indicated “I could have designed this piece of paper.” I thought the job would make me happy, but it turns out that when you aren’t great at being a graphic designer and are too timid to call people out on shortchanging you, one starts to hate it. I know hate is a strong word – but so was my attitude about graphic design at the time. I was stagnating in boredom. I was complacent with the uncomfortable fact that I was (in my eyes) a loser designer. That was until my grandfather grew ill.

He was “the” grandfather. The one that you can’t help but love and respect. Equal parts humor and humility (which isn’t easy when you are known for your brains). My mother and I flew down to my hometown of Grass Valley, CA. when we learned about his decline. Grandma had passed away just 5 months earlier, so he needed as much support as possible. The silver lining is that it was his physical body that was failing him and not his mind. It was a viscerally depressing situation. Contrary to what some may believe though, when one excludes physical pain, the ones really hurting were those who loved him. It hurts to see time slowly erode your idol: it’s a deep pain that starts to show when roles reverse, and you become the support. Despite this though, Grandpa Joe was seemingly happy, encouraging and helping others in his last few months of life. The thing that always stuck out for me though was how this wasn’t to save face. He was ok with what was eventually going to happen.

The Shower

The first time I realized I preferred helping people instead of designing a logo for a hard-kombucha beverage, was also the first time I saw my grandfather truly naked. Out of context that may sound rather concerning – but I assure you that it was just bad phrasing on my part. As his health complications became even more complicated, he lost his ability to transfer himself to the shower. The problem is that Grandpa Joe was also a very clean person. In fact, I think I will spill a family secret (he isn’t going to get mad unless he finds out after a resurrection). Despite being a rough and tough man shaped by his days of hard labor– he shaved his armpits before it was trendy just to limit the smell. So, not being able to shower was a cruel prank his body decided to pull on itself. This task that initially seemed like it would spawn an expensive therapy bill for my cousin and me ended up being one of the funniest events in my life. There was water, soap, and an old guy hollering “oooh ahhh ahhh,” as two grandsons scrubbed him with a loofah. The amount of joy he felt being clean again was a mutual feeling shared between all of us.

The Death

We couldn’t stay in Grass Valley indefinitely. After a handful of weeks, we had to leave and go back to Washington. When I was back home though I couldn’t help but reflect on that experience of caring for someone who needed it. Eventually, Grandpa Joe and I talked on the phone, and he encouraged my idea of trying the healthcare field. So, I went to school to try my new pursuit. As he further declined, we texted, and I would give updates about the new things I was doing. He seemed proud. There was a problem though: He was my grandfather which unfortunately meant he was a grandfather, and those, sadly, have a habit of dying.

He died when I was in the last few weeks of school to become a Certified Nursing Assistant. The last interaction we had was on the phone as he was passing away in hospice. He gave me nothing but genuine words of encouragement and the fact that he was ok. He was content, not complacent. I didn’t understand how someone could be so strong in the end while I was incoherently sobbing on the phone denying the fact that I was indeed losing my friend. But it clicked when I saw my first human husk and didn’t avoid the truth of its existence. It wasn’t that my grandpa was denying the emotions of the trial. Quite the contrary. My grandfather had simply learned to embrace the uncomfortable.