Story Time: Don’t Always Believe What You Hear

It was on a weekday in the mid 80s when I was working at my first salon that I met a new client that would forever change the way I saw people…

This is a story about how rumours don’t compare to the truth. Working at a nail salon, of course people talk. Each appointment with a client is an opportunity to get to know them- whether you like them or not. I’ve had clients who I absolutely adore and go on to become my friends outside of work and I’ve also had clients where I wish they could just drop their hands off and pick them up in an hour when I’m done. But, luckily, I’ve always enjoyed doing nails and have felt lucky to have it as my career. So, I will service them either way. It’s my job.

There was a rumour that was going around about a new client I had booked for her first appointment with me that day.

She was recommended to me by another salon. The rumour was that she was a bit of a whiner and a hypochondriac. At this time, I was in my 20s and she was in her 50s. Back then, 50s was not “the new 30s.” Let’s call her Fern. Fern looked much older than her years; you could tell she has a rough life. She was rather chatty and seemed very sweet though, from what I could tell.

She had a gentle, motherly disposition. She came every three weeks to see me for her nails, without fail. Over the months that we got to know each other, she had told me of some medical issues of which I saw no signs of and diseases that I had never known anyone else to have either. But, like I said, nails is my job. Not judgement. Besides, I found her lovely and I looked forward to her visits.

Fern and I developed a nice business relationship and friendship too. I always ask my clients how they are and what they’ve been up to and as time went on, Fern decided to open up more about her personal life. One day, she told me about a visit her and her daughter made to a local high school where they spoke to the students about Schizophrenia. I asked her how that came about and so she explained to me that her daughter has Schizophrenia. They were speaking to the high school students to help bring awareness and understanding to the disorder. She went on to tell me about a story about how her daughter was so paranoid (as I learned paranoia is a part of the disorder) that one day, she duct taped her entire doorway so that no light or air could get in out of fear that things or people would attack her. Later on, she was baking in her kitchen when she realized she needed an ingredient for a recipe she was making, so she had to tear all the tape off of her doorway just to borrow an egg from a neighbor. She explained how her daughter tells this story in such a funny and relatable way and how all the students enjoy it. I was both shocked by the story and so impressed by her for taking the time and effort to do this with her daughter. I learned that her and her daughter had been doing this for years.

I knew that Fern worked at a food bank, so on another day I asked her a bit about that. Over the next few months, she shared even more stories about her job and her personal life. When she told me that she had a son who was homeless and also has Schizophrenia, I was blown away. She had four children. What were the odds that two of her children would have the disorder? I continued to learn about Fern; how she volunteered at the local jail to comfort and be a listening ear to the prisoners there. At the food bank, she was a rock for the homeless and those in need and she often opened up her own home to these people. During an intimate conversation she and I were having one day, I asked her what drives her to do all of this. She said to me, “I understand how they feel and I decided I was going to love the unloved.”

That sentence has stuck with me ever since.

Throughout the coming years, I began to see the symptoms of the diseases Fern said that she had years earlier. People said she was a hypochondriac, but it was all true. Some of the diseases that she had fallen victim to couldn’t even be named by doctors at the time, but then became so later on. Despite what people thought about Fern, she actually had many illnesses that she didn’t talk about. She was someone who suffered in silence. She was a tough lady.

Fern was a BOULDER of strength in her family. Her daughter eventually took her own life, so Fern took it upon herself to raise her grandson. She worried for her own son as he aged, still living on the streets. Even despite all of Fern’s efforts, doing everything she possibly could for him and using her connections she had through her government work, her son lived his life out this way.

This woman was anything but a whiner and a hypochondriac. She was an inspiration who I came to admire. I learned a lot from her and from the stories she shared with me.

I consider myself lucky to have been able to know her.

When the day came, I attended her funeral. There I saw all the faces of the people she had helped throughout her life. So many people from the food bank, her husband, her children, her friends, the pastor from her church standing near the homeless that she had helped.