Just a Little Thing: Nothing Exciting
Every week Judith calls on her friend Peggy. She helps Peggy get her shoes on, gets her coat, and helps her into her car, putting her walking frame into the boot. She takes Peggy’s disabled badge from her handbag, and fixes it to the dashboard. Driving with extreme care, avoiding the bumps as much as she can, Judith takes Peggy to the shopping centre.
She parks as close as she can to the supermarket, leaves the car in a disabled bay, and carefully helps Peggy out, handing her the walking frame. They walk laboriously around the shop, Judith picking from the shelves what Peggy wants, and loading the trolley. Sometimes it takes more than an hour to get round the shop.
The staff always make sure that they do not have to wait at the checkout. If necessary a new till is opened and the two women speed through checkout.
Next stop the coffee shop where they sit for maybe an hour chatting and watching the world go by. Then home again where Judith helps unpack the food and put it into the cupboards at a level that Peggy can reach. Then, before she goes, Judith cooks Peggy and herself a meal, which they share in front of the television.
This is not an exciting story. It repeats itself every week, on the same day. When Judith goes on holiday her daughter takes over so that Peggy is never left alone and unhelped. Peggy has come to depend on her friend, whom she met in school, fifty years ago. Peggy never married, had a career as a dancer and has ended up in this state due to an injury sustained more then twenty years ago. She has regular visits from a district nurse who helps her to wash and checks on her condition. Every now and then she goes to the hospital for checkups. There is no likelihood that her condition will improve and she is always in pain. Without Judith she would be very lonely.
This ordinary story is repeated many times across our community. In other cultures Peggy would live in an extended family, looked after by younger relatives, or have died, depending on the culture and her luck. Here, like thousands of others, Peggy is dependent upon the generosity and kindness of others. Much is made of the fact that we are a selfish society, only interested in making a success at work, a personal career, climbing the ladder. I think perhaps that is not a general truth. Our society depends upon the many people who serve others without question, and this will probably continue to be the pattern.
Peggy regards herself as very lucky to have her friend. She does complain, sometimes, about the pain she is in, but it is not the first thing she mentions when you meet her. She always asks after my health, and that of my family, before telling me how she is doing. And then, I am sure, she often minimises the awfulness of her situation. They are both champions: the helper and the helped. I am glad to have met both of them.
