Gan Siew Hua, a pharmacology student in Malaysia, says she enjoys reading the Tzu Chi Quarterly very much. Here she shares some of the experiences she has had while working with other Tzu Chi volunteers in an old folks' home.

It's funny that every time I return from a visit to the old folks' home, I am instilled with an indescribable feeling that the one or two hours spent there are the most fruitful out of the whole twenty-eight years of my life!

Since Chinese New Year was just around the corner, only a few of us volunteers turned up that day. As a result I found myself working with just one other girl in the ladies' dormitory, while the guys had already retreated to the guy's section. (Hmm, not many young men are attracted to such activities as this.)

When we unlocked the ladies' ward, the old folks' faces lit up immediately upon seeing us and some even clapped their hands gleefully!

"Never mind our small number," I thought, "we're still appreciated."

Indeed, I felt more special than Queen Elizabeth herself as I walked amidst the loud cheers and applause to the bedside of my "favourite lady", an old Malay woman completely immobilised except for her left hand. She had been sleeping, but with all the commotion she opened her eyes. Seeing me standing there, she was so elated that hot tears of joy started falling down her wrinkled cheeks. With her left hand she quickly grabbed one of my hands, all the while speaking incoherently. She was so happy to see me again! I too started to cry from joy. In my entire life, I have never received such accolade from a fellow human being.

Overcoming my emotions, I got down to work. According to our routine, I first soaked a towel in warm water and started cleaning her face and body, taking care to wipe her wrinkled skin gently. Next I changed her sarong, which was heavily soaked with urine (and sometimes it is not surprising to find feces too). Then I powdered her body clean and her face white. (I've noticed that, for some reason, most old ladies love to have their faces powdered white). Following this, I applied a little iodine to the open bruises on her arms as well as to the bedsores on her buttocks, making sure to cover the larger ones with gauze and tape (to keep the flies from literally eating her alive!). I brushed her hair till it shone, and then I gave her the food and water that was lying at her feet. The paralysed old woman definitely could not reach it. We have found that some of the caretakers are thoughtless and just "plonk" her meals at her feet, only to come and collect the untouched food again with the assumption that the old woman does not want it. With my own eyes, I once saw this lady's mouth watering from looking at the food but not being able to reach it. So sad! Tearing some cake into small pieces, I patiently put it into her mouth little by little, since she tended to choke easily. Then I had some time to chat with her whilst running my fingers gently through her hair. While we may bathe and clean the senior citizens at the home, another unforeseen objective of our visit is to give as much love and warmth to the old people as we can. In fact, I can vouch that the old folks receive EXTREMELY little of this element.

After spending some time with her, I was about to proceed to the next lady when my eyes caught a slight movement under the opposite bed. My heart leaped into my throat when I realised what that object was. It was an old lady who had fallen from her bed and was stuck in a most peculiar position! I quickly called out to my mate and together we rushed to her aid. She had lost all bodily coordination, and her attempts to lift herself up into her bed again had only pushed her further and further underneath. We did not know how long she had been lying on the floor, but it was a lucky thing that we turned up. A full fifteen minutes were spent extricating her, our attempts constantly thwarted by her own efforts to free herself. I found that her mental faculty was too weak to follow instructions and at times she was going in the opposite direction. We finally succeeded, and the two of us heaved her back onto the bed. I was so relieved and the lady, although she could not say so, obviously looked happy again in her cozy bed. The floor of the ward had recently been cleaned with a strong white antiseptic, and our lady was coated powdery white from head to toe. I checked her body for wounds and bruises. After having assured myself that there were none, I left her with my friend.

Sitting on a bed nearby was a blind lady. Because of her disability, she had tied all of her food to the back of her waist so that it created a bulge under her shirt. Every now and then she would pat her back to make sure that it was still there and had not been stolen. We had trouble cleaning and feeding her, as she thought that we had come to steal her belongings. I decided to skip her for this visit and go to the next occupant.

Smiling broadly to me with a toothy yellow grin that revealed dirty, uneven teeth (with many gaping holes in them!) was a Chinese lady. Her grey hair was long and dirty, unfortunately coated with fluffy white flakes of dandruff. I decided that the first thing she needed was a good shampooing. So, with her head half dangling over the bed and a bucket of water underneath, I carried out that task, made more difficult by the fact that her hair was an entangled mass. When asked if she would like to have a hair cut, she nodded excitedly. I was thankful that she readily submitted her long tresses to my scissors, since that made my job a lot easier. In the old folks' home, it is more important to keep the inmates clean, comfortable and loved rather than "beautiful". While I am no hairdresser (any fashion will do), I cut her hair as short as possible so that it would be some time before she needed another haircut (and intensive shampooing).

An Indian lady nearby could only converse in Tamil. She had been observing us from her bed, and after some time she called out to me saying, "amah, amah"--about the only words she could utter intelligently. After finishing with the Chinese lady, I quickly went to her side. She must have wanted us to walk her as usual. The Indian lady (like most other residents) was too weak to stand on her own. Staying in a reclining position all day long is obviously tiring and she badly wanted some exercise to relieve her bodily aches and muscle pains. Checking to see if my partner was free, I motioned to her. With the two of us providing support on both sides, we walked her around the ward. Initially, she was a bit scared. When she was pulled up to a standing position, I heard her gasp with joy at being able to feel herself on her own two feet again. She was ever so pleased to be able to walk again, and she kept uttering "amah, amah" at every step she took. We could not help but feel happy for her. When she began to feel tired we tucked her back into bed, joy and contentment clearly written on her face.

I must say that time runs exceptionally fast whenever we are at the old folks' home. After only one and a half hours there, my friend signalled to me to join the male volunteers in the men's ward, which is bigger and in much worse condition. Although we did not manage to "service" all fifteen residents in the ladies' ward, we felt that between the two of us we had done our best. Before taking leave, I went to say good-bye to my "favourite" old lady. This time she cried because I was leaving and grasped my hand hard as though she didn't want to let me go. I allowed her to hold me for a couple of minutes, and I pacified her by saying that I would come again soon. I also reminded her to eat her food. Reluctantly, my friend and I left the ward and we locked the iron grill carefully before leaving. (Some of the able residents would try to escape to "go home" if it were accidentally left unlocked).

In the men's section a few blocks away, the guys were working equally hard, if not more so. I was told that one mentally unsound resident who was usually fed through a Ryles' tube (a tube that goes down the nose straight into the stomach) had pulled the tube out in the middle of the night. Now he could not be fed as he was not capable of taking solid food directly through his mouth. None of us was medically qualified to reinsert the tube. That day being a Friday (a holiday on the East Coast), the medical officer in charge was absent, which meant that the man would have to go without food for a day. We did our best to feed him sips of water containing nutrients while tolerating the loud chatter of the gentleman in the adjacent bed. He kept shouting the names of vegetables and their respective prices at the top of his voice. (It seems that he had been a vegetable seller in his youth.)

Finally, after the old folks had been cleaned and put into fresh beds, our small group gathered together and made merry to entertain them. Some of them were withdrawn, pulling up into their own dark worlds and refusing to have anything to do with us. Some, however, let loose and mumbled along as we sang songs and clapped our hands. There was a 57-year-old Chinese man, for instance, who kept on asking for more and more old Mandarin love songs. This kept us there longer than we wanted. He obviously enjoyed the songs very much, and he even sang solo for some of the choruses. Looking at him, I didn't know whether to laugh or to cry. Eventually, we had to take our leave and bid the old folks goodbye, promising to return in a fortnight's time.

Every time I return home, I have a feeling that my hands and clothing have been contaminated with feces or some other filth, regardless of how frequently I wash with Dettol soap. It is definitely a dirty and challenging job to commit to every other weekend and I never fail to wonder why I keep on returning. But I do. I won't have peace of mind because I keep thinking, "Does my 'favourite' lady get to eat today?" or "Does the Indian lady get to walk?" or "Have those bruises wrapped with povidone iodine healed?" I can forget about being physically clean--it's better for me to go. I would like to say this to the ladies out there: we actually do not need any cosmetics to make us look "beautiful". Do good deeds. That will beautify the inside which in turn will be reflected on the outside, as shown by the radiant complexion of most of my friends! In my heart, I feel warm and joyful with a kind of indescribable feeling of satisfaction that I have managed to provide some warmth and comfort for people. Also, my own problems, when compared to theirs, become infinitely small with every visit. It never fails to rejuvenate me and make me feel alive again. The Buddha said, "Happiness is a perfume you cannot sprinkle on others without getting some onto yourself." How very true! The heart is filled to the brim with joy and it is impossible to be sad.

In this world, we are but mere travellers. We come and we go. Although in this life we know when we came, we do not know when we will leave. Today? Tomorrow? In a few years? So doing good is not something to be postponed till a later day. You see, we will never be free unless we make the effort. And in the end what matters most is not the string of degrees we have after our names or the number of cars we own or how high we are on the corporate ladder. At death, we are stripped of everything. Just as Master Cheng Yen reminds us, "When we die, we can take nothing but our karma with us. We should seize the day and just do it!"