A couple weeks ago I encountered an extremely confused and anxious Lani. She was wondering if she could find a room for the night.
A lot of the residents think they're on vacation and that their stay at the facility is temporary. Many of them forget they live here, and the rest remember they live here but wander continuously in search of their bedrooms.
I reassured Lani that she has a room here and that I can take her to it.
"You can? How do you know I have a room?" she asked skeptically.
"Well because I've seen it before and you'll recognize it once we get there," I said smiling at her.
"Okay...if you say so. Sorry I'm walking so slowly...I'm an old turkey."
"It's okay...you're actually walking faster than you normally do when we're together," I tell her.
What she said next was unexpected.
"That's because I feel safe with you, otherwise I wouldn't."
My heart melted.
"Well I'm so happy you feel safe with me. That's exactly the way I want you to feel when we're together," I said.
"What's your name again?"
"It's Rachel."
"Rachel...that's a beautiful name. Rachel the angel. You really are so kind, Rachel," and with that she stopped and hugged me...twice.
My heart melted again.
These are the moments that reaffirm I have found my calling.
I feel so blessed.
Saturday, November 19, 2011
He's a P.I.A.
My third client is a gentleman who I'll call Ben. Ben is 92 and the most advanced in his Alzheimer's Disease of all my clients. As a former writer and editor, he is inquisitive, highly observant, charismatic, intelligent, and hilarious.
Every time I meet with Ben it's always a unique and memorable experience.
One day we were walking together down the hallway and I asked him how his day had been.
"Well it's been good and it's been wondrous," he replied.
"Wondrous...wow...that's pretty great, how has it been wondrous?"
"Well, you see people you know and then you see people you didn't expect to see," he said.
"Who did you not expect to see?"
"Well... yesterday my son-in-law visited me."
"Oh that sounds fun!"
"Yeah...well...I guess...he's a P.I.A. and--"
"What's a P.I.A.?" I interrupted him.
"HE'S A PAIN IN MY ASS!" he yelled through the halls.
At this point I cannot contain myself and I laugh hysterically. He caught me off guard with that. By P.I.A. I thought he was referring to his son-in-law's career...not the fact that he's a royal nuisance.
I turned bright red from laughing so hard and from the shock and surprise of what he said.
"Are you ok? You're a little red..." he said to me, looking concerned.
"No, I'm alright. I'm a little hot that's all," I lied.
"Oh ok...I thought maybe I offended you with that."
I reassured him that he didn't offend me and we continued walking.
"So what makes your son-in-law a P.I.A.?" I asked.
"Well...he's a royal pain in the..anatomy (he pauses before he says anatomy for effect and I laugh) because he comes here and tells everyone what to do and bugs me and asks all these questions..."
"Sound frustrating," I said.
"Yeah...it really is. I don't say anything to him though because I'm scared he'll tell my daughter..."
"And you want to just keep the peace."
"Yeah, exactly."
As Ben proceeded to talk on and on about how much he hates his son-in-law and how much he constantly bothers him when he visits I laughed and smiled. Ben is still so articulate and his ability to thoroughly describe his anger and frustration makes me giggle uncontrollably.
"So what does your son-in-law do for a living?" I asked.
"You mean besides ANNOYING me..." he says making direct eye contact.
I laughed again. He is just too hysterical.
Every time I meet with Ben it's always a unique and memorable experience.
One day we were walking together down the hallway and I asked him how his day had been.
"Well it's been good and it's been wondrous," he replied.
"Wondrous...wow...that's pretty great, how has it been wondrous?"
"Well, you see people you know and then you see people you didn't expect to see," he said.
"Who did you not expect to see?"
"Well... yesterday my son-in-law visited me."
"Oh that sounds fun!"
"Yeah...well...I guess...he's a P.I.A. and--"
"What's a P.I.A.?" I interrupted him.
"HE'S A PAIN IN MY ASS!" he yelled through the halls.
At this point I cannot contain myself and I laugh hysterically. He caught me off guard with that. By P.I.A. I thought he was referring to his son-in-law's career...not the fact that he's a royal nuisance.
I turned bright red from laughing so hard and from the shock and surprise of what he said.
"Are you ok? You're a little red..." he said to me, looking concerned.
"No, I'm alright. I'm a little hot that's all," I lied.
"Oh ok...I thought maybe I offended you with that."
I reassured him that he didn't offend me and we continued walking.
"So what makes your son-in-law a P.I.A.?" I asked.
"Well...he's a royal pain in the..anatomy (he pauses before he says anatomy for effect and I laugh) because he comes here and tells everyone what to do and bugs me and asks all these questions..."
"Sound frustrating," I said.
"Yeah...it really is. I don't say anything to him though because I'm scared he'll tell my daughter..."
"And you want to just keep the peace."
"Yeah, exactly."
As Ben proceeded to talk on and on about how much he hates his son-in-law and how much he constantly bothers him when he visits I laughed and smiled. Ben is still so articulate and his ability to thoroughly describe his anger and frustration makes me giggle uncontrollably.
"So what does your son-in-law do for a living?" I asked.
"You mean besides ANNOYING me..." he says making direct eye contact.
I laughed again. He is just too hysterical.
Friday, November 18, 2011
I'm Not That Kind of Girl
My second client is a 92 year old man. He's very hard of hearing, old school Italian and a fervent walker. He has Alzheimer's and is incredibly confused--especially in the evenings.
It's a symptom known as sun-downing and it's very sad to witness.
My client is constantly searching for his room. Although the layout of the floor is simple (it's a giant square) he still has trouble getting back to his room.
And so he wanders from room to room searching for his belongings.
This pisses all of the residents off.
Especially a woman I'll call Rita who is 96 and still incredibly independent. No taller than 4'10 she is adorable and spunky with a fiery attitude.
My client who I'll call John is slowly making his way down the hall peeking in and out of each person's room trying to determine if the room is his.
I'm sitting at another table with one of the other residents watching this happen.
Finally John makes it down to Rita's room and calls from the door, "Are you open for business?"
Rita is also very hard of hearing so she doesn't hear him, doesn't reply and when John hears nothing he walks into the room as if he lives there.
Moments later a very flustered Rita chases him out of her room, shooing him down the hallway.
"I'M NOT THAT KIND OF GIRL!!" she screams after him.
It takes everything in me not to laugh and I walk after John to help him to his room.
God bless these people.
It's a symptom known as sun-downing and it's very sad to witness.
My client is constantly searching for his room. Although the layout of the floor is simple (it's a giant square) he still has trouble getting back to his room.
And so he wanders from room to room searching for his belongings.
This pisses all of the residents off.
Especially a woman I'll call Rita who is 96 and still incredibly independent. No taller than 4'10 she is adorable and spunky with a fiery attitude.
My client who I'll call John is slowly making his way down the hall peeking in and out of each person's room trying to determine if the room is his.
I'm sitting at another table with one of the other residents watching this happen.
Finally John makes it down to Rita's room and calls from the door, "Are you open for business?"
Rita is also very hard of hearing so she doesn't hear him, doesn't reply and when John hears nothing he walks into the room as if he lives there.
Moments later a very flustered Rita chases him out of her room, shooing him down the hallway.
"I'M NOT THAT KIND OF GIRL!!" she screams after him.
It takes everything in me not to laugh and I walk after John to help him to his room.
God bless these people.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Everybody Bombs
I have three main clients at my internship right now. The first one I'll describe is a woman in her mid 80's. She has cataracts in her eyes so her vision is not so great...she has Alzheimer's and she is the sweetest woman I have ever met.
She's the epitome of a Pollyanna and I love the energy surrounding her constant happiness. Friendly and loving toward everyone she encounters, she is my inspiration for the way I interact with others.
For the sake of HIPAA and client confidentiality I will refer to her as Lani.
So Lani and I were walking toward the rear of the facility which leads to the backyard. In the backyard there is a nice patio, gazebo, walking path, garden and a green house. Lani LOVES to sit in the sunshine and soak up as much sun as she can.
That day it was incredibly nice out for October and Lani really wanted me to take her in the backyard. So as we got up from the table to head for the backyard, I hear a very disturbing sound come...from her rear end.
As Lani continues to rip HUGE farts I try to keep my composure. The immature kid in me is dying to BURST out laughing so as I'm desperately trying to stifle my laughter, Lani stops dead in her tracks.
"Whoops!" she says looking toward me.
"Did you just do what I think you did?" I ask.
"There's a bomb!" she says bending forward and farting again.
The stench from her flatulence almost makes my eyes water and I have to look the other way for a second.
"Are you alright?" I ask.
"I'm fine. See that's what happens when you get old. You start to bomb a lot," she farts again, "Ooop! There's another one. That's what old people are...we're bombers. We're allll bombers," she says and points to all the other residents surrounding us in the next room.
"It's ok," I say awkwardly.
I doubt it's appropriate to laugh...or maybe it would have been. But I don't...amazingly. hah.
So we walk outside and finally make it to a bench and sit down together.
The bench starts to vibrate. Yes, from Lani's chronic farting.
"Did you bomb?" she accuses me.
"No, I don't think so," I reply.
"Well...somebody bombed and it smells awful. But...everybody bombs," she says and stares off into the distance.
"Do you need to use the bathroom?" I ask her.
"No...I think I'm alright," she says.
I got up to get the nearest care-taker I could find anyway.
Those bombs were lethal.
She's the epitome of a Pollyanna and I love the energy surrounding her constant happiness. Friendly and loving toward everyone she encounters, she is my inspiration for the way I interact with others.
For the sake of HIPAA and client confidentiality I will refer to her as Lani.
So Lani and I were walking toward the rear of the facility which leads to the backyard. In the backyard there is a nice patio, gazebo, walking path, garden and a green house. Lani LOVES to sit in the sunshine and soak up as much sun as she can.
That day it was incredibly nice out for October and Lani really wanted me to take her in the backyard. So as we got up from the table to head for the backyard, I hear a very disturbing sound come...from her rear end.
As Lani continues to rip HUGE farts I try to keep my composure. The immature kid in me is dying to BURST out laughing so as I'm desperately trying to stifle my laughter, Lani stops dead in her tracks.
"Whoops!" she says looking toward me.
"Did you just do what I think you did?" I ask.
"There's a bomb!" she says bending forward and farting again.
The stench from her flatulence almost makes my eyes water and I have to look the other way for a second.
"Are you alright?" I ask.
"I'm fine. See that's what happens when you get old. You start to bomb a lot," she farts again, "Ooop! There's another one. That's what old people are...we're bombers. We're allll bombers," she says and points to all the other residents surrounding us in the next room.
"It's ok," I say awkwardly.
I doubt it's appropriate to laugh...or maybe it would have been. But I don't...amazingly. hah.
So we walk outside and finally make it to a bench and sit down together.
The bench starts to vibrate. Yes, from Lani's chronic farting.
"Did you bomb?" she accuses me.
"No, I don't think so," I reply.
"Well...somebody bombed and it smells awful. But...everybody bombs," she says and stares off into the distance.
"Do you need to use the bathroom?" I ask her.
"No...I think I'm alright," she says.
I got up to get the nearest care-taker I could find anyway.
Those bombs were lethal.
About Me/My First Blog
Hi! Soo...my name is Rachel and I am currently living in Boston attending Simmons College for my Master's in Clinical Social Work.
I moved here from a suburb outside of Rochester, New York and I have to say the transition has been really interesting. Moving from the suburbs to the city has been quite the wake up call but an amazing experience at the same time.
When I first moved out here I always joked (and still do) that I had to re-learn how to cross the street. Pedestrians in the city are much more aggressive than in the suburbs.
I am currently interning at an assisted living facility for those struggling with Dementia and Alzheimer's Disease. The experience thus far has been incredibly daunting, life-altering, humorous, challenging, rewarding, and extremely interesting.
A colleague of mine suggested I start a blog to share the funny/endearing stories from my internship--and trust me, I have plenty.
Awkward experiences are a guaranteed norm each week in my internship; but so are the moments when its reaffirmed that I am in the right profession by the way my clients interact with me.
I live for all of these moments.
I moved here from a suburb outside of Rochester, New York and I have to say the transition has been really interesting. Moving from the suburbs to the city has been quite the wake up call but an amazing experience at the same time.
When I first moved out here I always joked (and still do) that I had to re-learn how to cross the street. Pedestrians in the city are much more aggressive than in the suburbs.
I am currently interning at an assisted living facility for those struggling with Dementia and Alzheimer's Disease. The experience thus far has been incredibly daunting, life-altering, humorous, challenging, rewarding, and extremely interesting.
A colleague of mine suggested I start a blog to share the funny/endearing stories from my internship--and trust me, I have plenty.
Awkward experiences are a guaranteed norm each week in my internship; but so are the moments when its reaffirmed that I am in the right profession by the way my clients interact with me.
I live for all of these moments.
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