Volunteer brings God’s love to people with HIV and AIDS

By Michael D.Wamble
STAFF WRITER

It’s Friday morning and Gwen Currin’s day is already in full swing on the fourth floor of the Kaplan Building of Michael Reese Hospital on the city’s Near South Side.

This is only the start of a busy day. After three (or more) hours at this hospital, Currin will hop in her car to visit a fellow parishioner of St. Dorothy Church who is recovering at Mercy Hospital.

Things can change swiftly in a hospital, but Currin is more than capable of moving in the pace of this ministry of hospitality. The question is whether the pace can keep up with Currin.

Nurse specialist Norma Rolfsen knows there’s no slowing Currin down.

“We love her,” she said.

“Do you know about her awards?” Rolfsen asked.

“You mean the last one,” Currin said quietly, not boasting.

“Last one?” Rolfsen said. “What last one?”

The last one is the Lumina Award, an honor Currin received in July from the National Catholic AIDS Network at the group’s conference held last month at Loyola University. Only now, weeks later, is she beginning to tell the co-workers she sees each Friday morning about it.

“You have so many wonderful people doing things to combat this dilemma. You have volunteer food services and deliveries. You have people who assist in addressing transportation needs. Then you have me. This is my place.”

Through her involvement with the AIDS Pastoral Care Network, she was assigned to Michael Reese.

“Gwen is our one and only volunteer. And she’s awesome,” said Rolfsen, program director of the Michael Reese clinic. “She has a way of making people feel comfortable no matter their religious or spiritual experiences; they really feel supported. She is someone who’s loving and accepting.”

Mark agrees.

A clinic patient for five years, Mark (name changed to protect confidentiality) is a blind, soft-spoken, 20-something African-American. He calls Currin “his sweetheart.”

“Gwen was one of the first people who greeted me when I came to the clinic. I had recently lost my vision and was going through a lot of emotional issues and relationship problems. And she counseled both of us,” said Mark. “It was really good to encounter someone with the same spiritual belief I had in the Lord. She kept me grounded.”

Mark said he feels comfortable talking to Currin about anything: health issues, emotional issues and personal issues. “I lost my maternal grandparents 11 years ago. There are so many characteristics Gwen has that remind me of my grandmother until I feel like God put me here at Michael Reese to encounter Gwen to fill that void,” he said.

Mark knew that Currin was an “older” person, but given only her candor and energy, he had no idea just how old she was.

“I just found out that she was four score and something—and I was overwhelmed. It just freaked me out because she’s so full of life,” he said.

Currin’s age is also a fact that she finds overwhelming.

“I’m 81 years old. Sometimes I can’t believe it myself,” said Currin, who contends that by remaining active she isn’t trying to be young. “I’m just being me. And just like my patients, I have health problems too. I try to tell them that you are not dying of AIDS, you are living with AIDS, just as I am living with my health problems,” she said.

Sometimes, because they are HIV-positive, or substance abusers, or homosexual, or suffering from the betrayal of an unfaithful spouse, it can be difficult for Currin to subtly and sweetly nudge a man or woman past fears of being vulnerable.

Many of the people whose paths Currin crosses have had “bad experiences” with followers of organized religions. Patients can be bitter. Often, they have no history of church involvement. In response, Currin has developed a sensitivity as to what to ask and how and when to ask it.

“My job is to accept people where they are, no matter where that is,” she said. “And the most important things I can do are to listen, to touch and to hug.”

Case manager Lisa Riley who, like Currin, has been with the clinic since its inception, called Currin a “spiritual cheerleader.”

“Patients come up to us asking, ‘Where’s Gwen?,’” said Riley. “People may not like to admit it, but every once in a while, they like to be called ‘sweetie’ and ‘honey.’ Gwen is about reminding them that someone cares.”

Currin is still mindful that when the first reported AIDS cases were reported in New York City and San Francisco a few decades ago, “people said you couldn’t be in the same room” with AIDS sufferers.

“As Catholics, we’ve got a long way to go in outreach in this area,” said Currin.

As a Catholic African-American senior involved in lessening the sting of the AIDS pandemic, breaking down barriers is something Currin understands very well.

When she accepted the Lumina Award, Currin gently challenged her fellow volunteers and HIV and AIDS activists, who were mostly white, to extend their hearts and generosity to members of minority communities being affected by the disease.

“Now you must step up and talk to and help people you might not otherwise be exposed to. I know that there are people, as good as they’d like to be with this dilemma, who still have their prejudices. We can’t let that stop us from serving God’s will.”

Rolfsen said she believes that some of the barriers patients have to religious folks break down when Currin enters the room.

“When you see Gwen it is difficult to make an assumption of what she going to say when she comes in as opposed to a white priest in a [Roman] collar. So people at least have to meet her before they try to figure her out.”

Currin agreed, somewhat.

“At times [using lay volunteers] may be a better way to go within this particular dilemma rather than bring in a formal religious person too early on,” said Currin.

“Don’t get me wrong. I come right out and say that I’m a pastoral volunteer and some people come out and say, ‘I don’t want to hear it.’ That’s when I try to make them realize that pastoral work comes in many forms,” she said. “It doesn’t have to be restricted to the walls of a church.”

“Still, Gwen may see someone more than 20 times before they are willing to say more than ‘Hi’ to her,” said Rolfsen.

“With anyone, you must establish confidentiality right away or it’s over,” said Currin.

That’s a skill, Currin said, she cultivated over decades of service in the Legion of Mary, including a stint as president of the group’s six-state Midwest region.

“I got involved in the legion in 1960 at St. Dorothy. We have ministries that work with the homeless, programs where we walk the red-light districts talking to prostitutes and other forms of outreach. So, I have a background in working with those whom other people would rather ignore.”

But even after years of walking through the hospital’s doors, Currin still gets nervous before meeting new patients. “I always worry about what I will say to people. So before I come each morning I say a little prayer, ‘Lord, please help me say the right thing to everyone I meet today to lift their spirits.’”

Staff and patients say her prayer continues to be answered.

BACK