I asked a group of residents one day, "If you could change one thing in the world, what would it be?" I got a few of the typical responses - the weather, end hunger, to go home - but one in particular stood out.
Dottie replied by saying, "I'd change myself. You know, the way I live. Nothing else is ever going to change unless I do." I instantly thought of Ghandi's words, "be the change you want to see in the world." I've been thinking a lot lately about how it's the little things that mean the most. Sure, we'd all love to go out and solve world hunger or end global warming, but if those are our goals (noble as they may be), we might get so discouraged in the process that we stop doing the little things. I'm starting to think that a million feasible (but unnecessary) acts of kindess would leave a bigger impact on this world than ending global warming ever could. And who knows, maybe the extra kind word you say to someone will be just the inspiration they needed to go on and end global warming someday.
This hits close to home for me right now. I'm caught in the horrible yet exciting place of deciding whether to go into more debt for a masters degree or keep working to pay off the debt I already have (because Lord knows no one in the healthcare or religious fields are going to pay for a masters for me). But it's more than the money. I could go on, suck up the debt, and get all kinds of degrees to do all sorts of research and try to cure Alzheimer's someday. Or, I could stay in Smalltown, USA working as an activities technician making just over minimum wage but (hopefully) leaving a mark on the hearts of 50 beautiful individuals who, if I didn't come in, might not have one meaningful conversation with a single human being that day.
I think both roles are equally valuable. Somebody needs to be doing that research. But am I the one that's cut out for it? Just because I want a cure for Alzheimer's more than anything in the world doesn't necessarily mean I'm the best person to find it. Maybe I'm more well-suited for the small-scale stuff. Somebody's got to take care of those 50 wonderful people while the research is taking place.
I'll stop casting my personal dilemnas on you now. But I do think they testify to the truth in Dottie's statement. Whether I'm singing "Bicycle Built for Two" at the top of my lungs, terribly off-key (so that 30 wheel-chair ridden people can hear me over the hustle and bustle of a chaotic nurses' station) or sitting in a lab until 10:00 at night staring at brain scans and family history statistics, I'm not going to be doing anyone any good if I'm not finding a way to impress kindness on everyone I meet. For one, it will probably burn me out if I lose sight of the beauty in the little things in life. I think joyful connections with the people around us are vital to life. We are relational creatures (you'll have to excuse the theology major in me coming out...).
While it is good to have goals for the big picture, I think society as a whole will be a lot closer to achieving them if we learn to interact in a more healthy manner with one another. If I do end up sitting in that lab someday, I think I'll be a lot more productive (and less likely to give up) if the person I bought my coffee from that morning had a genuine smile on their face. Call me crazy, but at least for now, my contribution to finding a cure for Alzheimer's (heck, even for ending global warming) is to be kinder to every. single. person I encounter.
You may think I'm copping out. That's fine. But I know I could be a lot kinder to most of the people I come into contact with. It certainly won't hurt anything, so I think for Dottie's sake I'm going to give it a try. At least I know that this is an achievable goal; the rest will come with time.
Monday, November 28, 2011
Sitting Here Is No Good
I thought this post might be fitting for this time of year. In working two jobs, I have heard more than enough stress and babble about scheduling and making sure well-deserved time off is actually awarded. Since one job is at a hospital and the other at a nursing home, both require shifts to be covered 24/7, even on the holidays. So someone is always bound to get the short end of the deal and miss holiday time with loved ones to cover time at work (although hopefully an increased pay rate those days will help soften the blow).
In the midst of all this angst, it is easy to lose sight of why we do these jobs in the first place. I'll be the first to admit that I did not want to be sitting behind a switchboard on Thanksgiving Day while all my family and friends were gathered 'round the dinner table, preparing to take an epic nap in front of a football game playing on TV.
It probably sounds like I'm building up to go on a "somebody has to do it - if people have to be sick on the holidays, how dare you complain about having to care for them?" rant. But I'd like to take it one step further, thanks to a conversation I had with a resident, Betsy, a couple weeks ago. I went in to visit her in her room after one of the aides was done helping Betsy with dinner. As soon as she left, Betsy told me, "That girl came in here and was complaining about being at work. Boy, I wish I could be working. I'd much rather do that than...this. Sitting here is no good. Let me tell you, I loved my work. Find work you love to do and don't ever complain about it."
While I don't think Betsy would say to be a workaholic and sacrifice time with your family in an unreasonable manner, I do think she has a point worth sharing. Most of us tend to look at our "work" as something "to get through," a necessary evil to pay the bills. We dread waking up on the weekdays and constantly count down towards the weekend. To a certain extent, this is natural and fine, but it would be a shame to see it go too far. I know we can't all make a living doing a job we absolutely love and find joy in, but if we could at least learn to appreciate our work I think it might do wonders for our spirit, especially around this time of year when the last thing we want to do is go to the office.
Betsy is 100 years old and sits in a recliner all day looking out a window (if her aide even bothers to pull her chair up far enough so she can actually see out the window that day). She would trade anything in the world to be able to get up and clean a toilet, or file some papers. She'll tell you that anything is better than just sitting. But her hands have shriveled and her eyesight is failing her. She feels useless. While we do our best to find activities she is capable of doing that can give her a sense of purpose, we will never be able to protect her from the fact that she can't work like she used to.
I kind of feel like a brat for preaching about this, especially during a holiday season when it is natural to want time off from work. Heck, it's even healthy. But Betsy's words were a slap in the face that I know I needed to hear, so I thought they might somehow, ironically, lift your spirits if you find yourself stuck at work feeling like the holiday cheer is moving on without you. Try to be thankful that you have a job, a purpose, and that someone, somewhere appreciates what you do, even if you don't see it.
***
Funny Quote of the Day:
Me: Finish this phrase - "Mary had a little lamb..."
George: And the doctor died!
Me: Umm, I don't think we're talking about the same song, George...
George: You think that if Mary had a little lamb the doctor wouldn't drop down dead??
The man has a point.
In the midst of all this angst, it is easy to lose sight of why we do these jobs in the first place. I'll be the first to admit that I did not want to be sitting behind a switchboard on Thanksgiving Day while all my family and friends were gathered 'round the dinner table, preparing to take an epic nap in front of a football game playing on TV.
It probably sounds like I'm building up to go on a "somebody has to do it - if people have to be sick on the holidays, how dare you complain about having to care for them?" rant. But I'd like to take it one step further, thanks to a conversation I had with a resident, Betsy, a couple weeks ago. I went in to visit her in her room after one of the aides was done helping Betsy with dinner. As soon as she left, Betsy told me, "That girl came in here and was complaining about being at work. Boy, I wish I could be working. I'd much rather do that than...this. Sitting here is no good. Let me tell you, I loved my work. Find work you love to do and don't ever complain about it."
While I don't think Betsy would say to be a workaholic and sacrifice time with your family in an unreasonable manner, I do think she has a point worth sharing. Most of us tend to look at our "work" as something "to get through," a necessary evil to pay the bills. We dread waking up on the weekdays and constantly count down towards the weekend. To a certain extent, this is natural and fine, but it would be a shame to see it go too far. I know we can't all make a living doing a job we absolutely love and find joy in, but if we could at least learn to appreciate our work I think it might do wonders for our spirit, especially around this time of year when the last thing we want to do is go to the office.
Betsy is 100 years old and sits in a recliner all day looking out a window (if her aide even bothers to pull her chair up far enough so she can actually see out the window that day). She would trade anything in the world to be able to get up and clean a toilet, or file some papers. She'll tell you that anything is better than just sitting. But her hands have shriveled and her eyesight is failing her. She feels useless. While we do our best to find activities she is capable of doing that can give her a sense of purpose, we will never be able to protect her from the fact that she can't work like she used to.
I kind of feel like a brat for preaching about this, especially during a holiday season when it is natural to want time off from work. Heck, it's even healthy. But Betsy's words were a slap in the face that I know I needed to hear, so I thought they might somehow, ironically, lift your spirits if you find yourself stuck at work feeling like the holiday cheer is moving on without you. Try to be thankful that you have a job, a purpose, and that someone, somewhere appreciates what you do, even if you don't see it.
***
Funny Quote of the Day:
Me: Finish this phrase - "Mary had a little lamb..."
George: And the doctor died!
Me: Umm, I don't think we're talking about the same song, George...
George: You think that if Mary had a little lamb the doctor wouldn't drop down dead??
The man has a point.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
They Were Going to Burn Me to Death.
We have a new resident - let's call her Dee. She is always smiling and always...moving. She'll sit in her wheelchair for hours doing all sorts of exercises and dancing to whatever song is playing, either in the room or in her head. I believe this energy is a direct reflection of the energy in her heart. I am aware of how cheesy that statement sounds, but if you met Dee, you would realize that it is not an exaggeration in the slightest. After having an abnormal number of deaths on our floor this month, her spirit is certainly a refreshing one.
Prepare yourself for a classic "Don't judge a book by its cover" story. One night I knelt down to say hello to Dee, and this is what happened:
"Hi Dee, how ya doin'?"
"Oh I'm doing just fine!"
"Anything exciting happen today?"
"Well, you know, I'm just thankful to be alive! You know, they were gonna burn me to death, but I prayed and God was with me, so here I am!"
Whoa. Did not see that one coming.
She then proceeded to tell me "her story." As with any story you might hear from a person with dementia, you can never quite be sure how much of the tale is true. But I would not doubt that even if the story is not entirely factual, it is somehow still a reflection of the person's character and history. So I will tell this story as Dee told it to me, recognizing that, because she believes it to be entirely true, we should consider it as such - because she is living day to day as if this is where she has come from. And once you hear where she believes she has come from, it starts to seem pretty remarkable that she has such a persistant smile on her face and song in her heart.
When Dee was in her early 20s, she told all her friends she'd never get married. But of course, there was a man who liked her. He chased after her for 5 years, then went off to war. He came home, chased for two more years, then finally said, "Dee, please marry me. I'd love to have some children and start a family with you." So she gave in. They spent every minute together after that. But she told him she didn't want to have kids for 2 years; that way there would be no doubt that she was an honest, christian woman. They eventually were blessed with 3 kids: two boys, one girl, each four years apart. He said he'd be with her forever. They were married for 60 years before he got sick and died. Before he died, he told her, "Now, Dee, I want you to know you're the only woman I ever loved. You gave me three beautiful children and made me a very happy man. And you're going to be just fine."
The church wanted to take up an offering to help her out financially after he passed away. Well, one man had put a substantial amount of money in the plate. Afterwards, however, somebody told him that Dee didn't really need the money. He angrily confronted her and asked for his money back. She told him she didn't have it, never touched it. He said "You give me back my money or I'm going to kill you." But she didn't have the money. So he went and got two men and had them track her down, and sure enough they caught her. They were going to burn her to death. She was terrified, but she kept praying, "God, I'll do it. If this is what I need to do, I'll do it. But please forgive these men for what they're doing. Let them see someday that there is a God and He is good." She told the men she was praying for them, and just then the cops came in and saved her. But as she would put it, God saved her.
That wasn't the first time He saved her. Dee said she has always had health issues. For example, when she was born they said she wouldn't live to age 4. She had great difficulty with childbirth, among other illnesses. But lo and behold, here she is, by the grace of God, 88 years old and the proud mother of 3 healthy children.
Dee's story is not the first that I've heard of such extremity. I wish dearly that I could just as easily say about all of them, "Oh, there's no way that really happened. They're just confused and coming up with tales." But unfortunately I know that some of them are actually true. Most of our residents (all senior citizens actually...heck, everyone) have all of these intense, deep backgrounds, some very painful, and we just greet them nonchalantly, as if having this incredible life survivor sitting before us is no big deal.
Yet I can say that for every single one of these people, you'd never know it for their smile. They have all come through some sort of life tragedy, if not more than one, but they all found a way to keep living, to keep thriving. It really is remarkable. And yet I still catch myself frowning over the dumbest things. It seems that smiling in the midst of adversity is a skill learned with age. Maybe if we start recognizing the stories of our elders, really hearing the incredible histories that have shaped them, we can start to learn that skill a little faster.
***
On a lighter note, in case you thought people over the age of 80 are entirely wholesome and prude, think again. Just whip out a picture of Frank Sinatra and say "Isn't he handsome?" to a group of elderly women (one of my first rookie mistakes)...you'd never believe what they would do to that man if they only had one night (their words, not mine). I'll spare you the details.
I've learned that it is possible to be, dare I say, candidly crude with senior citizens every now and then. They were 20-something once too, after all. And they are certainly not made of glass. "There's nothing new under the sun," right? Forgive me if this is at all inappropriate, but sometimes these jaw-dropping moments are worth sharing just to remind us how, well, human they are. And funny...downright funny.
During trivia one night:
Me: "Does an octopus give birth to live babies or lay eggs?"
Residents: "Lay eggs!"
Me: "Yep, octopuss...octopi...octopuses....what in the world is the plural of octopus? Octopuses?"
Resident #1: "Hahahaha - you said pusses!"
Resident #2: "It's octopi."
Me: "Okay, whew. I'd rather have pie than pusses anyway." *under my breath: "I'm gonna get fired."
Turns out they're both grammatically acceptable (thanks, Google). But after that conversation, I'd probably argue that one is more socially acceptable than the other. Although if there's one thing that I've learned from my residents, it's that the most "socially acceptable" choice is not always the most fun. And sometimes, you just need to have some fun...and that's okay.
Prepare yourself for a classic "Don't judge a book by its cover" story. One night I knelt down to say hello to Dee, and this is what happened:
"Hi Dee, how ya doin'?"
"Oh I'm doing just fine!"
"Anything exciting happen today?"
"Well, you know, I'm just thankful to be alive! You know, they were gonna burn me to death, but I prayed and God was with me, so here I am!"
Whoa. Did not see that one coming.
She then proceeded to tell me "her story." As with any story you might hear from a person with dementia, you can never quite be sure how much of the tale is true. But I would not doubt that even if the story is not entirely factual, it is somehow still a reflection of the person's character and history. So I will tell this story as Dee told it to me, recognizing that, because she believes it to be entirely true, we should consider it as such - because she is living day to day as if this is where she has come from. And once you hear where she believes she has come from, it starts to seem pretty remarkable that she has such a persistant smile on her face and song in her heart.
When Dee was in her early 20s, she told all her friends she'd never get married. But of course, there was a man who liked her. He chased after her for 5 years, then went off to war. He came home, chased for two more years, then finally said, "Dee, please marry me. I'd love to have some children and start a family with you." So she gave in. They spent every minute together after that. But she told him she didn't want to have kids for 2 years; that way there would be no doubt that she was an honest, christian woman. They eventually were blessed with 3 kids: two boys, one girl, each four years apart. He said he'd be with her forever. They were married for 60 years before he got sick and died. Before he died, he told her, "Now, Dee, I want you to know you're the only woman I ever loved. You gave me three beautiful children and made me a very happy man. And you're going to be just fine."
The church wanted to take up an offering to help her out financially after he passed away. Well, one man had put a substantial amount of money in the plate. Afterwards, however, somebody told him that Dee didn't really need the money. He angrily confronted her and asked for his money back. She told him she didn't have it, never touched it. He said "You give me back my money or I'm going to kill you." But she didn't have the money. So he went and got two men and had them track her down, and sure enough they caught her. They were going to burn her to death. She was terrified, but she kept praying, "God, I'll do it. If this is what I need to do, I'll do it. But please forgive these men for what they're doing. Let them see someday that there is a God and He is good." She told the men she was praying for them, and just then the cops came in and saved her. But as she would put it, God saved her.
That wasn't the first time He saved her. Dee said she has always had health issues. For example, when she was born they said she wouldn't live to age 4. She had great difficulty with childbirth, among other illnesses. But lo and behold, here she is, by the grace of God, 88 years old and the proud mother of 3 healthy children.
Dee's story is not the first that I've heard of such extremity. I wish dearly that I could just as easily say about all of them, "Oh, there's no way that really happened. They're just confused and coming up with tales." But unfortunately I know that some of them are actually true. Most of our residents (all senior citizens actually...heck, everyone) have all of these intense, deep backgrounds, some very painful, and we just greet them nonchalantly, as if having this incredible life survivor sitting before us is no big deal.
- One of our women saw her husband drown in a lake after only a couple years of being married.
- I've been told another resident has a very painful, touching story - so much so that I haven't had the heart to ask her or her family what it is for fear of upsetting them.
- Another female resident has a masters degree in theology, but now is so trapped by the inability to form words that she probably has all sorts of theological concerns/questions rattling around in her head with no way to sort through them.
- I don't even need to mention the number of war veterans in that generation.
- Another woman kept and raised a daughter with a severe mental illness (this was unheard of at that time - most babies of that nature were "discarded" in the 1930s, sometimes without the mother ever even knowing what really happened). Oh, and she did it all within a loveless marriage. I'll tell more of her story in another post...
Yet I can say that for every single one of these people, you'd never know it for their smile. They have all come through some sort of life tragedy, if not more than one, but they all found a way to keep living, to keep thriving. It really is remarkable. And yet I still catch myself frowning over the dumbest things. It seems that smiling in the midst of adversity is a skill learned with age. Maybe if we start recognizing the stories of our elders, really hearing the incredible histories that have shaped them, we can start to learn that skill a little faster.
***
On a lighter note, in case you thought people over the age of 80 are entirely wholesome and prude, think again. Just whip out a picture of Frank Sinatra and say "Isn't he handsome?" to a group of elderly women (one of my first rookie mistakes)...you'd never believe what they would do to that man if they only had one night (their words, not mine). I'll spare you the details.
I've learned that it is possible to be, dare I say, candidly crude with senior citizens every now and then. They were 20-something once too, after all. And they are certainly not made of glass. "There's nothing new under the sun," right? Forgive me if this is at all inappropriate, but sometimes these jaw-dropping moments are worth sharing just to remind us how, well, human they are. And funny...downright funny.
During trivia one night:
Me: "Does an octopus give birth to live babies or lay eggs?"
Residents: "Lay eggs!"
Me: "Yep, octopuss...octopi...octopuses....what in the world is the plural of octopus? Octopuses?"
Resident #1: "Hahahaha - you said pusses!"
Resident #2: "It's octopi."
Me: "Okay, whew. I'd rather have pie than pusses anyway." *under my breath: "I'm gonna get fired."
Turns out they're both grammatically acceptable (thanks, Google). But after that conversation, I'd probably argue that one is more socially acceptable than the other. Although if there's one thing that I've learned from my residents, it's that the most "socially acceptable" choice is not always the most fun. And sometimes, you just need to have some fun...and that's okay.
Saturday, November 19, 2011
I haven't forgotten...
I should probably take a moment to mention that I have not abandoned this blog, but you might not believe me since my last post was a month ago. I think that warrants my first strike as a blogger. Forgive me?
Truth be told, I have five different posts saved in my "drafts" right this very second. But I haven't found the time (lamest excuse ever) to polish them with the attention they deserve. I suppose I'm the kind of writer that would rather something not be said at all than be said insufficiently. That might explain why I'm using three paragraphs to explain that I simply fell behind in my posts.
As my residents would say, "If a job is worth doing, it's worth doing well." So I will consider myself inspired and hope to pay some attention to those drafts; the goal is to get them all posted in the next week or so. That should give you just enough notice to make time to curl up with a cup of hot tea and brace yourself for some more timeless wisdom. If I don't follow through, I'll willingly take strike two (whatever that means).
Stick with me - I promise there's some good stuff coming your way!
Truth be told, I have five different posts saved in my "drafts" right this very second. But I haven't found the time (lamest excuse ever) to polish them with the attention they deserve. I suppose I'm the kind of writer that would rather something not be said at all than be said insufficiently. That might explain why I'm using three paragraphs to explain that I simply fell behind in my posts.
As my residents would say, "If a job is worth doing, it's worth doing well." So I will consider myself inspired and hope to pay some attention to those drafts; the goal is to get them all posted in the next week or so. That should give you just enough notice to make time to curl up with a cup of hot tea and brace yourself for some more timeless wisdom. If I don't follow through, I'll willingly take strike two (whatever that means).
Stick with me - I promise there's some good stuff coming your way!
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