How did you spend Christmas?

I usually have plenty of time to visit with my patients during their therapy session. Some really like to talk and others are more quiet. One of our topics of discussion this week was Christmas plans. One of my patients in the transitional unit seemed to have a room full of visitors all week long. They did some singing and shared their Christmas goodies with me. On Friday when I stopped in his room for our session, he told me the whole family had been there on Christmas and his ribs hurt because he'd been laughing so much the past few days.

When I sympathized with another patient about how hard it is to be laid up this time of year, he commented, "I've spent a couple of Christmases living in my car so this isn't so bad." Over the next 30 minutes he told me what it was like to live on the streets. Over time, he began to stop thinking clearly. All he focused on was where to get enough food to survive and as a result he forgot that he had family within 100 miles who might be able to help him. Thankfully he had a friend who realized he was going deeper into depression and knew he needed to get out of town and start over somewhere else. This friend gave him $100 and told him to fill his car up with gas and start driving. The only memory he has after that was finding himself on a state highway thinking he could drive in front of semi and end his life without hurting the truck driver. "I didn't see one semi for the over 100 miles that I drove." He ended up at an uncle's house who made sure he was treated for the depression and was able to get back on his feet. After all that, it isn't so bad to be recovering from surgery in a warm place where there is plenty of food and even a therapist or two to add some variety to your day.

Sights and personalities

You know it is meal time when you walk down the halls and all you see in the rooms are chairs in the "eject" position.

The only time I hear all the televisions tuned to the same station is when the Hawkeyes are playing. And that is the only time I've seen the TV on in the dining room. We must be in Iowa.

The best gift you can give a hard-of-hearing resident of any facility is headphones so no one else has to listen their loud TV.

It is a relief to walk into a patient's room and hear a conversation happening in normal tones, especially after having spent 35 minutes "yelling" at another patient and even then, having to repeat everything twice.

Dementia has it's advantages -- at least for the therapist. I have a couple of patients who have "thrown me out" but 10 minutes later don't remember I had just been there. With a change of approach I might even get them to agree to do what they just refused to do.

As an occupational therapist, I do my best to have my patients do things that they would normally do especially if they plan to go home. That however can be a challenge at times. One woman told me, "Of course I can dress myself, but I'm paying enough money here that someone else can do it for me!" After another woman made a sandwich she declared, "There! Do you now believe I can make a sandwich?! You do know that I've been making sandwiches for far longer than you've been alive!" Of course I had explained to her numerous times that the point wasn't that she couldn't do it. The point was to have her do things that she would do when she got home.

One of my patients who is in his 90s told me that almost all of his friends are in the cemetery. He had no idea why he had survived WWII and had been so healthy until recently and others hadn't. He concluded that life is short even when you live into your 90s so you'd better live for eternity. I couldn't agree more.

Transition

I've been through some major transitions in my life. Moving from the farm to the near-north side of Chicago at 18 was the first. Then I moved to France and learned a new language and culture. Four and a half years ago I moved to Minneapolis. And last month I moved to an area about 35 miles from where I grew up. You would think it wouldn't be that difficult. After all, I knew where the grocery stores, the YMCA, the library, and the courthouse were. I recognize people when I'm out and about. People have actually heard of my hometown. I'm enjoying the benefits of being in a smaller town and back in farming culture where people actually have known each other for a long time. It sounds like it should be an easy transition, but I've decided that no transition is easy.

Four years ago I was wondering how long the transition would take, when I would have friends, and when I'd feel at home. All of that takes time. After all, history can only be made one day at a time. Last weekend I went to Minneapolis to visit friends and was reminded of the type of relationships that can be built in a few short years. I am thankful for the people I have met at the church I've been attending here who have invited me to join them for Sunday brunch after church and to be a part of their missional group. Those small things have helped.

The bigger transition for me is in my work. It's a new career, and though I've passed a test saying I know what I'm doing, in reality, I often feel like I don't have a clue. I told a friend that I don't know enough to actually know what I'm doing, but I do know enough to act like I do. I'm often searching my textbooks for answers to my questions when I get home. I guess I can only gain experience one day at a time as well.