tmgrl2
Helvetica...
What a beautiful, personal, sensitive, wise post!
I was going to quote parts...but the whole post was so touching....
Thank you for sharing of yourself.
I am so on the same page with much of what you have to say....I, too, over the years, have so often dealt with patients who are never going to get better physically or gain or regain cognition or language.
While I know certain things are not likely to change, it becomes about hope and about healing of the spirit and acceptance (not resignation) ....
I think you and I touched on this in another thread..about how some "physical" issues will never go away, but that hope and healing are of the spirit and of progress.
I also identified with what you said about needing to "shield" ourselves. Over the years, working with my populations has become pure joy for me and, when people say to me..."I don't know how you can do that day after day," I really don't even know what they are talking about because I don't see the "disability" or the child throwing him/herself on the floor screaming and tantruming or even attacking me. I deal with it and the next day I start all over again with the same child in a loving fashion....
Many of these children have grown up and, to some degree, out of some of the problems...many will have to deal with life-long juggling of multiple medications...
Occasionally, when I least expect it, someone "gets to me."
Years ago, when I first started, I had a woman in a nursing home who had had a stroke that, as it turned out, after my evaluation, had affected her motor functioning but did not affect her language or cognition at all.
She was paralyzed on one side, her face drooping, drooling, no speech, wandering eye contact. The nurses were discussing her in front of her...about how she dropped books and wailed to have them picked up and didn't stop till the book was where she could see the words.
One of the books was Le Petit Prince in French.
I evaluated her (this was before functional MRI's) and found out that she had absolutely intact receptive language, that the damange was purely motor...she could
write with her non-dominant functioning left hand...slowly but in complete sentences...when she was lying flat in the bed, she could produce an audible and intelligible whisper.
Anyhow, I joked with her about being Scotch...and she wrote (it took her about 5 minutes to write this sentence)
"Scotch is booze, my dear. I am a Scot."
I then said..."Tell me everything you need right now to make you more comfortable."
So, she wrote she wanted to eat in her bedroom (she was very fastidious) so that people wouldn't see the food drooling out of her mouth in the dining room.
She needed her books where she could read them, a pad to write on by her bedside at all times...and then wanted to know if she was ever going to return physically to the way she was before the stroke.
I called for an immediate staff meeting, got all of the things done we could, let the staff know that she understood everything they were saying in front of her.
They didn't mean ill, because usually, with the the severity of paralysis she had, there would be aphasia...or language breakdown receptively.
Then, began the slow and painstaking process of beginning the journey to find a different kind of life for this woman and for her family, hopefully, one that would bring them gratitude that she was still alive and one that would have some joy and spirit and love in it.
I went home that night and was haunted by the idea of this woman's mind functioning inside a shell and of her having had no way to reach anyone for the weeks since her stroke. I could see someone slowly going insane...of course, I saw that as my worst nightmare.
I was young and new to my profession. I think I was about 32 years old then.
Now at 62, I take much of what I have done over the years, and find that the same principles apply when I sit down with a querent.
I don't think anyone ever got to me quite as much as that lovely woman, but I will always remember because of it, that we need to listen very carefully and look beyond the outer person.
I now believe that it was no accident that I had this encounter early in my career.
terri
What a beautiful, personal, sensitive, wise post!
I was going to quote parts...but the whole post was so touching....
Thank you for sharing of yourself.
I am so on the same page with much of what you have to say....I, too, over the years, have so often dealt with patients who are never going to get better physically or gain or regain cognition or language.
While I know certain things are not likely to change, it becomes about hope and about healing of the spirit and acceptance (not resignation) ....
I think you and I touched on this in another thread..about how some "physical" issues will never go away, but that hope and healing are of the spirit and of progress.
I also identified with what you said about needing to "shield" ourselves. Over the years, working with my populations has become pure joy for me and, when people say to me..."I don't know how you can do that day after day," I really don't even know what they are talking about because I don't see the "disability" or the child throwing him/herself on the floor screaming and tantruming or even attacking me. I deal with it and the next day I start all over again with the same child in a loving fashion....
Many of these children have grown up and, to some degree, out of some of the problems...many will have to deal with life-long juggling of multiple medications...
Occasionally, when I least expect it, someone "gets to me."
Years ago, when I first started, I had a woman in a nursing home who had had a stroke that, as it turned out, after my evaluation, had affected her motor functioning but did not affect her language or cognition at all.
She was paralyzed on one side, her face drooping, drooling, no speech, wandering eye contact. The nurses were discussing her in front of her...about how she dropped books and wailed to have them picked up and didn't stop till the book was where she could see the words.
One of the books was Le Petit Prince in French.
I evaluated her (this was before functional MRI's) and found out that she had absolutely intact receptive language, that the damange was purely motor...she could
write with her non-dominant functioning left hand...slowly but in complete sentences...when she was lying flat in the bed, she could produce an audible and intelligible whisper.
Anyhow, I joked with her about being Scotch...and she wrote (it took her about 5 minutes to write this sentence)
"Scotch is booze, my dear. I am a Scot."
I then said..."Tell me everything you need right now to make you more comfortable."
So, she wrote she wanted to eat in her bedroom (she was very fastidious) so that people wouldn't see the food drooling out of her mouth in the dining room.
She needed her books where she could read them, a pad to write on by her bedside at all times...and then wanted to know if she was ever going to return physically to the way she was before the stroke.
I called for an immediate staff meeting, got all of the things done we could, let the staff know that she understood everything they were saying in front of her.
They didn't mean ill, because usually, with the the severity of paralysis she had, there would be aphasia...or language breakdown receptively.
Then, began the slow and painstaking process of beginning the journey to find a different kind of life for this woman and for her family, hopefully, one that would bring them gratitude that she was still alive and one that would have some joy and spirit and love in it.
I went home that night and was haunted by the idea of this woman's mind functioning inside a shell and of her having had no way to reach anyone for the weeks since her stroke. I could see someone slowly going insane...of course, I saw that as my worst nightmare.
I was young and new to my profession. I think I was about 32 years old then.
Now at 62, I take much of what I have done over the years, and find that the same principles apply when I sit down with a querent.
I don't think anyone ever got to me quite as much as that lovely woman, but I will always remember because of it, that we need to listen very carefully and look beyond the outer person.
I now believe that it was no accident that I had this encounter early in my career.
terri