Loneliness is a prison cell

I must make a confession. I am guilty of “tunnel vision.” 

I’m so focused on the plight of incarcerated men and women that I forget that many free men and women still live in some type of prison. 

I am reminded of that today, after spending last week in the hospital. I’m OK. I’m 89, and things are starting to fall apart. But hear my story. 

I was assigned to a two-bed hospital room. Sleeping behind the curtain right next to me was Old Pete. Old Pete suffered a stroke last November. That’s when he was brought to the hospital. More than 2 months later, he’s still there! The stroke didn’t cause any paralysis, didn’t appear to leave any physical damage, but his thinking was muddled, words were expressed hesitatingly, and it appeared that he couldn’t read. 

It became apparent over the next several days that Old Pete had only one family member, a brother who made frequent visits and who really cared.  Other than that, no loved ones, no kin, no friends from the past. And so, his days were spent alone. Hospital staff appeared regularly for the usual procedures, tests, meals, etc. The rest of the day passed slowly, as he periodically napped, looked out the window at the hospital parking lot, or watched a faulty TV set. 

I heard murmurings among the staff that there were Medicaid issues preventing his immediate release to a different facility, and that things were moving slowly. I know nothing about those matters. What I observed, though, was that nobody appeared anxious to help him or relieve him of his insatiable desire to get out of there. No case worker or Legal Aid representative paid a visit to explain the delays. No social worker came to discuss his issues or provide updates. No counselor came to ease the hopeless feelings of loneliness. No hospital chaplain or pastor from his hometown showed up to assure him that someone cared. 

It was an important message for me. Old Pete is not the lone wolf. There are many people who are living in a different type of prison and the loneliness is no less severe. Mother Teresa said, “The most terrible poverty is loneliness, and the feeling of being unloved.” 

I think the message for all of us is that, when Jesus expressed these words---- I was in prison and you visited me----he wasn’t focusing only on people behind bars. 

Referring to another poor old man who was suffering through similar loneliness issues at St. Peter’s Square in Rome, my hero Pope Francis said: “He is Jesus for each of us. So many need our closeness, so many are abandoned.” 

I’m writing all of this to confess that I must stretch my desire for “Humanity for Prisoners” to more than just the incarcerated. 

I hope you’ll do the same. 

“The Lord is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”

 – Psalm 34:18