Little details from your day
Posted: Thu Oct 19, 2006 9:38 am
I manage an Adult Family Home for ladies with varying forms of dementia and/or personality disorders. It's one of those jobs that can go from really rewarding to totally depressing in an hour (or less!). Either way, as it stands, it's what pays the bills.
Every morning before I come in, I grab the freshly-delivered newspaper off the driveway and bring it in the house. Today was no different from any other morning. After opening the front door, I was greeted by Mrs. X with her normal barrage of questions.
As most of the ladies have memories that vary from poor to none, I was faced with having to explain to Mrs. X (again!) why she was "put" here.
She's convinced that she's in a prison and every day I have to tell her that it isn't me who has "captured" her, but, in fact, her family actually brought her here as, unfortunately, she's unable to take care of herself. It's a script that we play-out every day (sometimes 3 or 4 times a day). Depending on the mood I'm in, this script can be highly entertaining or downright exhausting. This morning it was leaning towards exhausting.
Invariably, the script gets to a point where she asks why she can't take care of herself. It's at this point where we must talk about doctor's visits, memory checks (date, season, year), and the fact that we just talked about this yesterday/an hour ago, whatever. Oddly enough, she knows she has some sort of brain disorder yet it takes this script for her to remind herself (once again!) that she is the victim of some very unfortunate circumstances. The script always ends with her asking something to the effect of, "Is it because I have Alzheimers?" (Technically, we don't know if it's Alzheimer's Disease-Proper that's causing the problems but it makes for an easy label).
At this point, I usually have to say, "Yes, Mrs. X, that's why you're here".
Well, this morning, post-script, Mrs. X demanded that she be "allowed" to read something. (There are no reading restrictions here). So, I took the newspaper out of it's waterproof bag and laid it out on the counter (upside-down to me) facing her as she was standing on the other side of the counter. She ran her fingers over the top-most print of the front-page and said angrily, "I can't make out what these words say, dammit!"
I turned the paper right-side-up to read the words that she was trying to decipher.
There, above the main headline, above the "Seattle Post Intelligencer" title were these words which I read aloud to her: "Smoke Pot to Fight Alzheimer's? Study Indicates Yes".
We had a good laugh for a minute. She then sat down in her chair confused as to why she's here.
Every morning before I come in, I grab the freshly-delivered newspaper off the driveway and bring it in the house. Today was no different from any other morning. After opening the front door, I was greeted by Mrs. X with her normal barrage of questions.
As most of the ladies have memories that vary from poor to none, I was faced with having to explain to Mrs. X (again!) why she was "put" here.
She's convinced that she's in a prison and every day I have to tell her that it isn't me who has "captured" her, but, in fact, her family actually brought her here as, unfortunately, she's unable to take care of herself. It's a script that we play-out every day (sometimes 3 or 4 times a day). Depending on the mood I'm in, this script can be highly entertaining or downright exhausting. This morning it was leaning towards exhausting.
Invariably, the script gets to a point where she asks why she can't take care of herself. It's at this point where we must talk about doctor's visits, memory checks (date, season, year), and the fact that we just talked about this yesterday/an hour ago, whatever. Oddly enough, she knows she has some sort of brain disorder yet it takes this script for her to remind herself (once again!) that she is the victim of some very unfortunate circumstances. The script always ends with her asking something to the effect of, "Is it because I have Alzheimers?" (Technically, we don't know if it's Alzheimer's Disease-Proper that's causing the problems but it makes for an easy label).
At this point, I usually have to say, "Yes, Mrs. X, that's why you're here".
Well, this morning, post-script, Mrs. X demanded that she be "allowed" to read something. (There are no reading restrictions here). So, I took the newspaper out of it's waterproof bag and laid it out on the counter (upside-down to me) facing her as she was standing on the other side of the counter. She ran her fingers over the top-most print of the front-page and said angrily, "I can't make out what these words say, dammit!"
I turned the paper right-side-up to read the words that she was trying to decipher.
There, above the main headline, above the "Seattle Post Intelligencer" title were these words which I read aloud to her: "Smoke Pot to Fight Alzheimer's? Study Indicates Yes".
We had a good laugh for a minute. She then sat down in her chair confused as to why she's here.