The Mentally Ill----TGIF!

To be honest, I really don’t expect anyone to read this, I am in need of a strong vent! And this is one place I can do that!

A few quotes that struck me as so apropro.

“The psychologist who did my intake at Dominican Hospital in 1994 told me that in many more traditional cultures, the schizoaffective people are the shamans. If you wonder why there are no more miracles as in the Biblical days, it's because we lock our prophets up in mental hospitals.”

“In many ways, I miss the visions. Not the squad car lights, but the many beautiful and inspiring things I saw. While living without visions is certainly more placid, it's not nearly so interesting.”

An interesting piece of trivia---Mental disturbance can be caused by heavy metal poisoning - the Mad Hatter in Alice in Wonderland was inspired by real hat makers who were sickened by the mercury used in the manufacture of felt hats.

I spent my day dealing with 3 clients suffering from schizophrenia, accompanied with other mental, emotional, and physical ailments, one never left his bed, I dealt with his mother (his main problem)---who wore me out so fast I was terrified I would lose patience with her, I was at the point of thinking—no wonder he can’t function, you won’t let him.----Another, not really schizophrenic, but more borderline disorder, along with physical defects, and mild retardation, then the final straw, visiting the home of a woman who I have never met in person, but whom I have had numerous telephone conversations with, knowing that within her illnesses, she possesses a brilliant mind, an amusing viewpoint of our world, even when she is delusional, she can look at it with humor. But not now, not today, not for the past few weeks. I had no idea what I would find.

Not really knowing what to expect, I had spent the past months speaking to her by telephone, on average at least once per week. If I had not read her file, I would not of known her diagnoses. I sometimes question the diagnoses anyway, so always try to approach meetings with an open-mind.

She has been going through a lot lately, so much that even a “normal” individual would be unable to assimilate in a calm, rational manner. A sister dying of breast cancer, another in stage 2 breast cancer, then she herself is diagnosed with a lump, a lump that tests positive for malignancy. She must make a decision….the doctor’s say they got it all, it is up to her whether she does a “wait and see”, or chooses chemotherapy.

She receives notice from her apartment complex management that they are not renewing her lease.

How would we “the normal” handle all this change, this information? Now consider that you are a barely functioning delusional schizophrenic, also suffering from diabetes, breast cancer, incontinence, obesity, and obsessive-compulsive disorder.

I start receiving 2 to 3 phone calls a week. Not of any substance really, a small complaint here, an appointment cancellation, a need for additional service. Sensing that really she just needs to talk, no one in her life but doctors and caseworkers. I respond, I return phone calls. The complaints become more accusatory. My housekeeper is lackadaisical, she doesn’t DO anything. She is breaking things and not telling me.

Accusations that I discuss with the housekeeper, now two sides, two sides that do not match.

I decide to make a home visit, as I am discussing the fact of the home visit coming up with a co-worker, I learn she became our client a few years ago, because she was in danger of being evicted from her home, due to the unsafe/unsanitary conditions within. Nice to know, wish someone had told me earlier.

I arrive at a low-income apartment complex, approximately 25 years old, typical 1970’s architecture. Entering the inner hall, I find apartment 112 easily, the door is ajar, I knock, I hear a quiet, “come in”

I gently push the door open, my first sight as the door slowly swings open is a living room filled with boxes inside white plastic bags, boxes stacked, boxes partially tipped over. It looks as if someone is moving in or out. As the door continues to open, I see her, at first she just looks at me, I introduce myself. She nods, says, “Yes.”

She is sitting at a rectangular dining room table, you cannot see the table top, the end closest to the door is stacked with stuff, I cannot even begin to imagine what all was in the stacks, the stacks are at least 2 feet high, leaning and sliding over one another. One bump of the table and they would go tumbling everywhere.

She is sitting at one end of the table, in her hands she has a ball of hair, her hair, it looks like the hair you would remove from a hairbrush when cleaning it. There are 3 other balls of hair in front of her. “I am going to make my own wig.” “My head is too large for the ones they sell.”

It takes me a brief moment to process what she has said, my senses are overloaded by all the clutter. I am eventually able to focus, as I completely enter the apartment. She never smiles, she is not flat faced, nor monotonal in speech, but she is also neither welcoming nor unwelcoming.

I asked if I may sit down. She gestures toward a dining chair opposite her. There is literally not one inch of clear table space. I feel as if I am in the midst of one of those I Spy children’s books. Interspersed on the table top and the other two chairs, are newspapers, junk mail, coupons (she calls herself the coupon queen—buying the things just because she possesses the coupon), dirty dishes, an old mayonnaise jar-- it still has streaks of mayonnaise on the inside walls-- but I can also see another jar within the larger. Crisscrossed across a dirty plate are a knife, fork and spoon, also dirty. On top of these are what must be dryer lint?, not sure. Then spools of thread, and a conglomeration of other things.

I asked what the housekeeper did that day.
“She cleaned the countertops in the kitchen, she did some dishes, she cleaned the floor, she vacuumed the carpet in the living room.”

I stand and look into the kitchen, there are fast food ketchup packages lying on the floor beneath the refrigerator door, a half full bag of potatoes lying on the floor beside a colander, several dirty dishes in the sink, a sink that is dingy, not shiny and clean. Very little of the counter top is visible as it too is filled with clutter.

She speaks up, “I did clean the bathroom today.”

“May I look?”

“Yes”

“Where is it?”

She points toward a hallway, “right down there.”

I walk down the hall, glancing into the bedroom as I do so, the bed is piled with clothing, coverlets, the floor covered in small pieces of paper trash, what looks like cracker or potato chip crumbs, every surface is covered/piled high with something.

When I reach the bathroom, I am almost afraid to turn on the light, but I do, I look at the floor first, deeming this to be the safest place for my eyes to land first. There are a few pieces of paper on the floor, a bag of Depends in the corner---not too bad, I can handle this---I check out the sink, it is clean, the toilet also clean, the bath tub is sparkling. I tell her it looks wonderful, she did an excellent job. I am wondering though, if she is capable of doing this, then why can’t she do the other rooms? But I do know why, the clutter is overwhelming.

I return to my seat at the table. Gathering my thoughts, I tell her that if I were her housekeeper, I would be overwhelmed, I would not know where to start, how to start. That it would be very difficult to know what she can handle getting rid of, and what must stay. She stares at me. I try to rephrase, I tell her she is a hoarder. She looks at me questioningly.
“You keep everything don’t you? You have difficulty knowing what to part with?”

“I was told to collect aluminum cans, to save them until the price gets higher, and to then sell them. The price is only $0.30 right now.”

Basically she is saying yes, and here is one of my reasons.

My senses are not adjusting, I am still overwhelmed. I stand, walk, rather try to walk into the living area, I cannot, the boxes block everything. I asked, “What is in all these boxes?’

“I was gathering things, do you know anyone who could use a bar stool?”

“No.”

“Too bad”

I return once again to the table, she is still playing with the ball of hair. It is at this time that I finally notice that the housekeeper’s vacuum cleaner is sitting beside the table.

I mention this.

“She is running errands for me.”

“But she should have been done and on her way home 30 minutes ago.”

“Really, well she told me she had time.”

“Tell me again, what did she do while she was here. How long has she been gone? How long was she here before you sent her on the errands?”

“She cleaned the countertops, she did the dishes (the sink is not even wet), she vacuumed the living room (there are small pieces of paper trash on the floor, the floor that can be seen).”

Biting my tongue, wanting to say, what is the relationship between the two of you, I see nothing that could have been done. But I don’t say it, I only think it.

I look around the room, the rooms, letting her see me observing. “Tell me again, what did they say when they said you were going to be evicted?”

“They are not really going to evict me, they are just refusing to renew my lease. It is such a bad time too, I will be in the middle of chemotherapy treatments.”

“Yes, that would not be an easy time to move.”

“ Glory, I want to help you, I want to make this work for you, but we have to do this together, we need to establish some goals here.”

“Yes, I know.”

At this point, we hear a knock, and the door opens, the housekeeper has returned from the shopping expedition. She is not surprised to see me, she recognized my car in the lot. I smile, greet her, and continue the conversation regarding the lease. Asking the client for a copy of it. Which I never do get, one more thing to remember for next week.

The housekeeper shoots me a look of exasperation, (she is nervous) she carries the bags of food to the kitchen. Starting to put things away. I can tell she knows exactly why I am there at that time, she also knows I am wondering why she is almost an hour behind schedule.

I am also observing the client, she is getting very agitated.Is it the feeling of too many people in the small crowded, cluttered area? Is it the tension we can feel emanating from the housekeeper?

The housekeeper shows her two different kinds of soda pop, “this is all they had, is that okay?’

“Did they accept the coupons for it?”

“Yes”

“Then it is fine.”

There are already at least 3 and a half cases of soda pop stacked in a corner of the kitchen.

All the while, I can see the anxiety building up in the client, her fingers twisting and turning the clump of hair in her hands.

The housekeep pulls out two half gallon containers of ice cream, shows them to Glory.

“Are these okay?’

“Yes, gimme!” reaching out like a small child, she grabs one container, pulls the lid off, quickly picks up the dirty spoon laying across the plate on the table, and begins spooning ice cream rapidly into her mouth.

I can see her calming, with each bite, she begins to relax a little more.

At this point, I ask her about the mayonaise jar sitting on the table. The housekeeper looks at me, shruggs her shoulders, her face telling---wait til you hear this.

Glory, a bit calmer now, slowing down her ice cream binge says, "It has poison in it."
"What kind of poison?"
"Malathion, do you know what that is?"
"Yes, it has been illegal for several years. Why do you have malathion?"
"I used it in the garden."

I am thinking you never leave this apartment except for appointments, and errands, you have no yard, no space to garden.

"Why is it in here?"

"Exactly because it is now illegal, I can't get rid of it, I can't just put it in the trash, I am too concientious to do that."

"So what are you going to do with it."

She looks at me, looks at the jar, I get the distinct feeling she is satisfied with its placement inside the larger sealed jar. I am also wondering if it is Malathion, but it very well could be.
Okay, this I will deal with next week also.

As she becomes to calmer, I explain that I would like to meet with her mental health casemanager, that we all need to come up with a plan for her. She agrees to this, or pretends to, I can tell she has no desire, but that she also knows that we are at a juncture, it is crunch time, she/we get things under control again, or her life will only become much worse.

I tell the housekeeper that I will schedule a time for her to come in to the office for some additional time, and we will try to work something out.

I tell Glory, it was a pleasure meeting her, and that I will speak with her next week.

I take my leave, and go out to the parking lot, waiting for the housekeeper. She is not surprised to find me waiting. I tell her the reason I was there, Glory had been complaining that she had not been doing anything. By this time I am mentally exhausted, my mind churning the problem over and over, how do I help her, what can be done, the director of the program is going to want to drop her as a client, the director will chastise the housekeeper.

For the first time, finally, the housekeeper opens up completely, “I feel like quitting!” “No, one is satisfied with my work!” “ I am out of medication!”

She then immediately tries to backpedal….”I am sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Yes, yes you should have, you have a right to say it, to feel it, you need to tell me when you feel that way.” “You need to tell me when you are out of your anti-depressant, I need to know when you are functioning poorly.”

She nods, tearfully.

“Most importantly you need to tell me when a client’s home gets to the point where you are having a hard time maintaining it, it is almost too late for Glory. We/I need to know when things start going badly. How many clients are now in this state? You are not getting paid nearly enough money to have to work under these conditions, but it also partly your fault for allowing this to continue without notifying me how quickly things were deteriorating.” (she has more of our mentally ill clients than anyone else, her personality is a soothing influence, even though her housekeeping skills are minimal—this will be a part of our discussion next week)

We discuss her own health issues for a moment, I send her home well past the time she should have been. Telling her I will come up with a set of goals, a plan of action for us to begin implementing next week.

As I climb into the car, heading home, my mind is racing, flipping this problem over and over in my brain. How, what, why, how, how, how, do I fix this?

I pick up the cell phone, call Glory, I feel a need to apologize to her, I was rather blunt with her, not letting her off the hook because of her illnesses, mental or physical. I told her I want to help her, how much time can she afford, how many days a week can she afford to have the housekeeper come in?

“My appointments, and public transporation take up so much of my time, I don’t know how I can have her in more than one day a week.”

“Just tell me, please, how many days can you afford, we will work around your appointments, we will find a way.”

“Three days, I think I could afford three days " (our service costs her $1.00 per hour).

“You saw my meds box didn’t you, the one with the strange things inside, covered with a towel, you didn’t understand what all that stuff was, you just thought it was a bunch of junk didn’t you.”

“No, I saw nothing like you described, I have a hard time observing small details when there is so much to take in.” She seemed to accept this.

“Glory, I am going to spend the weekend, trying to come up with a plan to help you, but, next week, if we can get it implemented, you must help. You cannot cancel appointments, I may have to send in two housekeepers, and myself the first two days. Can you do that? Can you handle that?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I will talk to you the first of next week, and this weekend I would like you do something for me.”

“What?’

“Focus, try to focus on the things that are most important to you, so you can let me know next week. Okay?”

She sighs, “Yes, I will try.”

*Sigh* I am afraid that I do not have enough alcohol in the house to forget this one tonight.

Reality is not something that just happens to you.
Reality is something you make.

Most people never question the reality they experience. Most people are fortunate to have no reason to ever question it; their reality works well for them. The people who have reason to give up their reality are usually forced into it, either because they are insane, or because life just doesn't work for them. There is no satisfying measurable definition of sanity or insanity; instead, some people have a reality that works for them, and some people don't. Some people might be satisfied with their reality but society might not be satisfied with the behavior their reality causes them to exhibit, and so we sometimes commit the mentally ill involuntarily to mental hospitals.

Even if you don't feel the need to question your reality or make a new one, I assert it is worthwhile for you to understand this in the event you ever have to, or ever need to try to help someone make a new livable world for themselves. At the very least, it will help you to understand why some people are so difficult to get along with and help you relate to them. It's not simply that some people hold different opinions, it's that many people, not just the insane, live in a completely different world from the one you experience.

There is an objective reality, but we cannot experience it directly. It is also without significance or meaning. The reality we experience is drawn from the objective reality but sliced, diced, julienned and pureed by the food processor of our bodies, cultures and minds.

Shades of Grey

Today was a day of surprises, nice ones.
I knew all morning that my boss was going to give me my annual review, and I was not looking forward to it, although I tried to tell myself to look at it as a training experience to use on those I supervise, never really paid a lot of attention to the process in the past. I do not believe in the way traditonal performance appraisals are done, I know they are a necessary evil, but I think the people that directly experience your work should be the ones doing the evaluating. It should be a trickle up and trickle down process, instead of the way it is now done.

Anyway, this being my first year in the position, and with the communication problems my boss and I have experienced over that time, I was sure that today would not go well, that I would be biting my lips, trying to rationally deal with her criticisms.

We are very different people in the way we communicate, in the way we look at the world. She see things in black and white, rules are to be followed. I see the world in a multitude of colors, many shades of grey, and more. To me rules are guidelines. Many times they may have to be bent, sometimes even broken.

She surprised me though, I underestimated her abilities to see that my way of communicating works. She rated me much higher than I thought she would, especially after she had insisted I lower all my initial evaluations of those I supervise. She being a stickler for the literal definition of everything, considered my statements too broadsweeping, so I had to lower my evaluations to reflect this. And now, I have to spend the next week, relating to the wonderful women I supervise, my true opinions couched in the terms of a faulty system. But, I will deal with it, hopefully as honestly, and openly as I can, and they will walk away feeling really good about what I have to say.

I found that when I really look, really try to understand her, then I am able to be there for her, she surprised herself by opening up to me today, because I finally decided to open up to her, listen to her, why I allowed that to take so long I do not know.

I dealt well with all the little problems of the day, all because I had started my day, telling myself I was going to take everything in stride, that no matter how negative something seemed at the time, that I would be able to deal with it, that I would be able to handle it. When we take the time to mentally prepare ourselves, I really do believe we can handle almost anything. Even a paranoid schizophrenic who decides to stop taking her medications.....another little client emergency....the kind that teaches me....sometimes I do have really good intincts.....another little thing...that can keep me believeing in myself....when I want to beat myself up.


The end of my day, 8:50 to be exact my daughter and I took a walk through the small town we live near. The elementary school she attended is in the process of being remodeled so she wanted to explore the area. It was so nice to see her get excited over the old science garden, or for her to go up to the back doors by her old 5th grade classroom, look in the windows, and say "it has a school smell, it smells right, just like 5th grade, the high school doesn't have a school smell!" Then she had to move to the playground and I watched in amazement as she hugged her favorite tree from 3rd grade.

I thought I was easily pleased, maybe it runs in the family. She spent the rest of the evening very happy. I love teenagers, the things they come up with, the logic of their arguments, their ability to still look at the world with some of the child-like joy that gets so easily lost as we age.

Who Do I Look Like?

I stole this from James, who stole it from Lime.....it uses your self-portrait to come up with your celebrity look-alikes.........hmmmm wonder who I look like? I used two separate self-portraits, and these 5 came up on both.
Erica Durance, Heather Locklear, Rachel McAdams, Francoise Hardy, Serena Williams..... I think it's the cheekbones.

Never have I ever been told I look like any of these people, ah well, at least there were no men, poor James had more women than men.

Give it a try----what celeb do you look like?


Erica Durance





























Heather Locklear


















Rachel McAdams













Serena Williams


















The following two women are who I have been compared to all of my life....go figure.

Live w/ fervor, Laugh w/ passion, Learn w/ intensity, and Love w/ everything you are.

I finally chose to stay home today, trying to recover from a cold or virus I have been battling for over a week. I slept a lot, but one can only sleep so much.

Then Miss Daughter deciding since I was home, she could put me through the hell of highlighting her almost waist length brown hair......hell.....yes hell....pulling strands of extremely long hair out of tiny little holes with a crochet hook.........causes pain, major pain....she complains, tears form, and it IS MY FAULT! She wanted me to do it! I warned her! But it is awful to cause your child pain, of any kind. So we argue over it, and then get over it.....thankfully we are both good at "getting over it".

Anyway the true reason for this post....out of my usual need to play online..I came across the most amazing blog today. Written by a young man of 26, I haven't read it all, but what I have read has touched my heart so deeply.

I am going to post a portion of what he wrote about his daughter...........

We lay next to each other in my gigantic king sized bed. I am on my back and she is on her left side facing me with her arms wrapped around my right bicep and with her soft round cheek pressed against my steady shoulder.

She has one leg propped up over my abdomen as she tells me of her day.

I am sure I heard every detail that has happened in her life today, at least once, but I just listen as she goes back over those subjects she thinks I might have missed. This is the ONLY girl in the world who has my whole heart and full attention at all times. She is the only one who need not say a word for me to understand her needs, desires, and wants. She snuggles closer and gives me soft kisses on the corner of my mouth right where my smile lines have formed. She places that kiss perfectly. She knows where to place that kiss now because she has done it before and she is the creator of those smile lines. Her laughter makes me smile, her eyes make me smile, and her simply being mine makes me smile.

She lays her head on my chest, listens for a moment and asks “Why is your heart beating so hard?” “Because it is full of love for a very special girl,” I reply. She doesn’t say a word but merely gives a glimmer of her radiant smile because she knows how the rest of this conversation will go if she asks about this special girl. She knows who this special girl is and why I feel this way about her. She knows I will always be here, ready, willing to do whatever is necessary to keep her and keep her safe. Travel any distance necessary to bring her back into my arms. The Archangel Michael himself could not keep me from her side. I have fought many demons and would fight a million more for her. I would dare take on Satan himself and have no doubt of an assured victory if I knew it was for her happiness. Men stand no chance, women even less, against me if it requires I defend her. I would accomplish a great many feat, legal or otherwise, to make sure she does not have to see the things I have seen in my lifetime. I resolved a while ago to dedicate my life for one purpose until the day this body of mine stops pumping blood through my veins. This purpose won’t fade, my love will not dwindle, and my allegiance will not sway. Even if dead wrong I will love her, defend her, hold her, and embrace her with arms of compassion, understanding, and acceptance while cherishing her forever. Her eyes have lost the fight against the night. It is tough being as beautiful as she is and she tries desperately to keep up with me. Like so many others who try relentlessly to keep up with her dear old ADHD dad she fails and drifts into a place where she is secure while still here safely on my chest. She watches the back of her eyelids as I watch over her.

Grow up in my love little girl. A love that I did not know I had until you were in my life. This unconditional love grows as you do. Grow up as I pour into you everything that I am so you can enter my world and hopefully escape the sins of your father and mother. Forgive us of where we have failed you little girl. Your father was not the most attentive man in his younger years and your mother was not the most faithful. Grow past us and learn from our mistakes without having to travel the trails of torment we have been down. Little girl you are the only female in the world who holds my whole heart in her tiny hand. She lays next to me in my gigantic king sized bed. I am on my back with her soft round cheek pressed against my steady shoulder. Don’t you worry baby girl, I will always be rock steady for you. I will never vary, never! I will always be here, always.

I looked and looked again at his age, wondering, how did he reach such a maturity, knowing I will have to find the time to read more, to know more. There are truly some very amazing people in our world. He is one.

Bananas, Nuts, Hot Fudge, and ......

One banana ripened to perfection.
Honey roasted peanuts.
One jar of hot fudge sauce.

What else is needed?


The banana is peeled and sliced, the peanuts ready, the fudge sauce heated.

All I need is................

Two lovely scoops of vanilla ice cream.

I anxiously walk over to the freezer, scan the compartment.

I can't find it.

I know we had some, I have seen hubby and Miss Daughter eating ice cream all week.

Go out to the other freezers, no ice cream.

Now what?

I had a nice bowl of chocolate covered banana, covered in honey roasted peanuts.

Somehow, it was just not the same.

Gotta Love'em

I overbooked myself client wise today, met with five, along with trying to get 3 hours of paperwork done in one. Got half the paperwork done, and brought the rest home for the weekend.

The clients; all elderly today.

Client #1, 85 petite little lady, who last week thought I was the devil incarnate because I called her daughter in Texas and told her that her mother was sending up to $80.00 a week to companies who promised she was a winner, they just needed the funds for the shipping and handling of those giant checks, and to keep her in the running for the next sweepstakes. Of course daughter put a stop to it, and Mrs. Petite was angry at getting caught---on a side note these defrauders told this little old lady that she shouldn't tell anyone what she was doing, they might try to con her out of her winnings!

I should have realized yesterday when I set up the appointment that something was up with her memory, she was very sweet to me on the phone........today she greets me with the most beautifull smile, it lights up her entire face, making her beautiful, so welcoming, then she ask me if I knew D, "Of course, I am her boss."
"Oh that is you?" "Well, she is just wonderful, I don't know what I would do without her." (last week D was as evil as I)
We get busy with the paperwork, me shouting at the top of my lungs, plus repeating everything twice, because she cannot hear, and cannot afford to buy hearing aids........but doesn't she get it? She could have used the thousands of dollars she sent to those bogus companies. Anyway, she has forgiven me, especially since I went to Sam's and purchased a giant bag of Dum Dum pops for her to hand out to the neighborhood children when she sits out on her front porch watching the world go by. She is the "sucker lady" to the neighborhood children.

Client #2...75 year old woman........I am at an elderly apartment complex,with a security lobby, just outside the main lobby, where the visitor rings the buzzer to the residents apartment.
The doors are all glass looking into a lobby where the residents sit, visit, play cards, socialize. Five people are sitting in there. I ring the clients apartment. No answer, I ring again, and again, pull out my cell phone and call her, no answer. I finally knock on the doors and shout through the glass, do you know so and so? Is she home? Blank looks, I say the name again, they point to a woman sitting in a chair, "that's her!" She forgot I was coming.
Okay fine, I can deal with this, I explain who I am, why I am there, review our phone conversation from Wednesday, she pretends to remember, but I can tell she doesn't.
This woman, has to use a walker to walk, and with even that she has to move at a snail's pace. We go through the paper work, when we get to her health history, she says she is in perfect health, has no family physician, she will get one when she gets sick and not before. I point to the walker, "why are you using a walker?"
"Oh, I had hip replacement surgery 3 years ago."
"Have you had physcial therapy to work on strengthening your muscles, so that you do not have to use the walker?"........she shouldn't have needed that walker more than a few months.
"I did it for a few weeks, but I didn't like it so I stopped."
I am thinking, what the hell is this woman thinking? Why didn't her 3 children try to convince her to continue the therapy? She seems very content to live her life this way, after spending time with 90+ year olds, I look at 75 as quite young, and she has allowed the quality of her life to be controlled by how far she can go because of that walker. I find this so sad.

Client # 3....83 year old woman, looks amazing, fantastically healthy(she has major heart disease, but refuses to take her meds because they cost over $3000.00 a year.)
She has lost a son, and a husband, both by freak accidents........son was at a gym using the tread mill, he lost his balance, fell off, hit his head on another tread mill, lost consciousness, was taken to the hospital, but his head injury was deemed the least urgent, he died due to the head trauma.
Her husband at age 90, was out walking the circle of their cul de sac, a neighbor backing his car out of the drive ran over him, this was witnessed by the client and her son through the living room window, the neighbor pulls his car back in the garage, and goes back into his house. She calls 911, while son runs out to check on the father lying in the street. The neighbor later tells them, I thought I hit something, but wasn't sure what. I sat there dumbfounded........wtf? Who are these people populating our world?

Client # 4...67 year old woman, who spends her days visiting her husband in a nursing home from 7AM to 1PM, then she runs her errands, or whatever she needs to do in the afternoons, then goes home to play with Mr. Fidget, her chihuahah.
She at least is expecting me, we update her paperwork, as we are doing her health history, I mark off all the the diseases she has had, or has....my final question during the health history is... "Are there any illnesses or other ailments that have not been mentioned?"
She answers no. So we move on to finish up a few forms, and then I ask for her signature, she replies...."My signature is pretty bad, because I have Parkinson's." Jeeessh! I tell her, that is an important piece of infomation, and I am glad she told me, (this little nugget of info, plus a few others regarding her health are documented no where in her 5 year old file back at the office, when I ask her about this, she replies, no one asked the right questions) I again ask, "is there anything else, that you think might be important for us to know about your health?"
"Well.....I am psychotic."
I sputtered, trying not to laugh! I thought she was joking! She wasn't. I ask what her diagnoses is.......pychotic episodes along with severe depression......I ask if she is being treated with medications, "Oh yes, and she names the two."
"Who is treating her psychological problems?" She doesn't know........pulling my hair out by now!
I have somewhere around 85 clients, maybe 90. I am finally after almost a year, meeting most of them. I am constantly amazed at how intelligent people, allow themselves (or their children do not interfere) to neglect their health and well-being. For every two clients I meet that take very good care of themselves, I meet one hypochondriac, and three whose quality of life is awful, due to untreated poor health.

My last clients of the day....one of my favorite couples, both in their mid-80's, I am breaking the rules once again for them to do their weekly grocery shopping, but what the heck.
Anyway, it has been two weeks since I have seen them, he is feeling so poorly he doesn't want me to see him......he always wants to see me, so I am now extremely worried, but there is no way I was going to injure his dignity by insisting upon visiting him. Anyway he would see right through it.
She looks 10 years older, the circles under her yes so dark, she looks bruised. She is extremely worried about him, she hobbling along on a walker, living in a second story fire trap, that they have no way of exiting from if there were an emergency, she whispers her fears about him to me, I whisper back...call me anytime this weekend if you need me....breaking another rule.....she just tells me she needs to pray more, and has to stop being a 'doubting Thomas'. I give her a hug, whisper, "call me." and leave.

By now it is 6:30, while at the grocery shopping for the client I stopped at the local pizza parlor there, purchased 3 of the world's best salads, and two small pizzas, for the family dinner......this shows the lack of communication between hubby and I. As I walk in the door at 7 with my purchases, hubby and daughter are sitting watching a movie, eating pizza and the world's greatest salads!

I need a drink, no, I need at least 4 drinks, very strong drinks....

Foot In Mouth

Ever say something, and then try your best to backpedal, but no matter what you say, it's too late, can't take it back, can't make it better?
Oh I did that tonight. Back in December, one of my clients died, she died because she gave up, her quality of life had deteriorated very rapidly after she received an injury in an experimental exercise class for the elderly. She went from an 85 year old woman who spent her leisure time planning dances for her apartment complex, and dancing, to an aged weak husk in a few short months.

I was so angry when I found out how she was injured, how she would never ever regain her vitality. It wasn't really the exercise program per se, it was the students who were allowed to run the exercise program. Anyway, tonight at a training I have been attending for the past few months, I met an exercise physiologist.....she gave an excellent presentation, was so impressed I wanted her to do a training for the people I supervise. We talked, I opened my big mouth and told her about the client. Turns out she was in charge of the experimental program. Grrrrr!

She had tears in her eyes, there I am trying my best to not lay blame on her program, but to explain what happened. How we felt it was perhaps a lot of small things that led up to the accident. To late though, I had already said too much. I think my indignation is still at that level where I could not be totally sincere, even though my rational side knows it was not any one persons fault.

I can tell myself, I had no idea she had anything to do with the program, but, it would not have been hard to put two and two together. Maybe I did know deep down, since her specialty is the aging population. Maybe I wanted to see her reponse. But, damn, I am still mad at myself for saying what I said.

But I am also mad at the university, at her and her coworkers for not getting better information about the people they were experimenting on.

What I know............Today

I know that today is the second day of spring, there is snow on the ground, but I also know the end of that is definitely in sight, and the warmth will be here very soon....YES!

I know that I have two of the greatest kids in the world, Miss Daughter had to write a paper on who her hero is........she wrote about her brother........how cool is that?!

I know that if someone is going to lie to me I would prefer it to be one really big one over a bunch of small ones--that just make their life easier.

I know that I really really need to do something that makes me feel absolutely gloriously wonderful...........only I don't know what that is.

I know that I am in great need of a long, loving, very tight hug, some great kissing would be very nice too.

I know that I need remember the to recognize the small little moments of the day, that make life so wonderful.

I know that I am going to try an experiment with my HNT this week, and if it works, I am going to be so proud of myself. :-)

I know that I had to make 37 phone calls today, and only got to 24 before I gave up, and decided to wait to finish them on Thursday.

I know that tomorrow I have an 8 hour training and I am going to be sooooooo bored.

I know that if we are going to have snow on the ground, I wish there were at least enough to build a snowman.

I know that Little Dog is now our dog forever. I know I am not that happy about it either.

I know that I do not have the patience to finish a sudoku, why is that?

I know that I want my husband to go to bed so that I can get on my im's....grrrr!

EEEK!

I am sitting here at my computer late Sunday night, or early Monday morning, however you want to look at it. Really kind of worn out, spent a long boring day, babysitting teens for a fashion show, in between times fiddling with my camera. But mostly bored. Did get some great shots though of various things.

Anyway, get online, spend some time in chat playing in the trivia quiz---got two right---Yay me!
Then spend some time chatting with friends, love that, they always make me smile. Then, I start editing a post, was gonna delete it, but hell first blogger wouldn't let me, and then I thought about the amount of time I spent writing it, editing it, reediting it, and re-reediting it, so I republished it instead.....woooo....a lot of re's there. Then after trying to add a photo 2o odd times, I start seeing this black blur out of the corner of my eye.......glance over.........nothing........wow I must be more tired than I thought.........resume typing.........more black blur............more looking........nothing........

Continue with what I am doing.........the blur is not so much a blur anymore....it has legs!

Another, quicker glance....cripes.......it is a big hairy spider the size of a half-dollar coin!

WTF! Both feet are already off the floor, do I kill it? Maybe it is a good spider. Are there good spiders? Maybe outside, but NOT in my house! What do I kill it with? What if it bites?

By the time I am done asking myself all these questions, the damn spider is under the refridgerator! Now what? It could end up making the long trek through the downstairs, then upstairs to my bedroom!

I would love to spend my nights with something warm, but a not big a hairy spider that might have fangs!

Yesterday I Almost Hated My Job!

Today, I loved it! Why? Because today was a day of constant busy. From juggling schedules, dealing with a kazillion phone calls, and meeting new clients. It all came together, everything worked. It was great!
Of course the best part is the people, the clients, even when I am so tired of talking on the phone I dread picking up the phone.

One warm, funny, pleasant person can turn the day around. Today there were many.

Knowing that we can help someone who feels desperate, who feels as if their world will never be any better. When I can say, yes, we can help you. I can have someone here next week, to help them get their little world feeling more orderly, a little more controlled. I leave them with the knowledge that next week they will not be alone. Which in turn gives me a warm feeling, and then life feels good.
I love these people. Each one has a story, their diseases, their disabilities may be similar, but they are each individuals with different histories, whether they be 57 or 87.

I met the most wonderful woman today, well, I say that about most of my clients. This one spent 30 years working as an investigator for The Environmental Protection Agency. I was so shocked when she told me how she had spent those years, this diminutive white haired lady investigating the most amazing things. And, when I said you should write all this down, she just smiled, and said, "Oh I couldn't do that, I signed a confidentiality pledge when I retired." Anyway, I let that one go, and as we moved on to the where we needed to discuss her health history, she started talking about her ankles and legs, seems she has congestive heart failure and has to take a drug to reduce.....grrrr can't remember what it is called now....anyway drug is lasex and it basically kind of dehydrates the body to keep down water retention....she showed me her ankles.....I told her they were quite lovely.........and they were quite shapely.....she then looks down, smiles rather shyly, and tells me she was a leg model back in the 40's. I love it!

The days go by, some are boring, some are downright awful, but then I get to experience days like today, and that is why I do what I do.

Sometimes it Does Stick

I noticed something today that seems really bizarre to me. When a song comes on the radio, if it is an artist of today, I recognize them, I know the song, I know the band, not always, but amazingly often for me (compared to other people's memories for music, the small amount I recognize is nothing, but for me it is a lot)..........where did that come from?

Music from my own teen and twenty years, forget it, there are a select few, that I rarely get wrong when I hear, I do have to hear it though, Beatles, Doors, Zepplin, ZZ Top ( and actually those are a tad before my time) but most of those I can recognize the sound, there are others that I just can't think of them now....

But tonight I was singing with Fall Out Boy, Seether, Kelly Clarkson, Fountains of Wayne........not even realizing it. Something is seriously wrong here, I am 46 years old, I am supposed to recognize music from the mid-seventies and eighties.....dunno maybe it was being a dance team coach a few years back, I had to know the music that would be attractive to the students, and so I started listening more to the names and titles?

So I am thinking, was I too drunk, too stoned in my youth, too much going on in my home life that I pushed all memories far away...even the music?

Seems so very strange to me.....how some things stick in my brain, and some don't.

The things that people remember has always interested me, one of my sister's ex's could remember the tiniest little details of his life, since the age two, his mother would back him up...yes he remembered......maybe that is why he is an alcoholic today, he can't get rid of anything.

A friend of mine, can quote many lines from Seinfeld, he even told me he knew the entire script of one show....wow....how can he do that?

People quote things to me all the time, and I am supposed to recognize the reference, most of the time I do not...... Now if you said "Make it so", that I would recognize.

I have read so many books on memory, trying to learn how to keep it in my brain, but alas, I am just a Dory, now if only I were as funny as she.

In a way maybe that is why I like the trivia games, especially the multiple choice one linked to here, because I do know it, I just can't retrieve it on demand, but with a memory jog I can. Which reminds me, I think it is quiz night at xs....hope I am not too late.

Made it to the quiz, but only got two points *sigh*, why is it that the guys there can type so much faster.....must be computer geeks :P

Lyrics

How many times in life do we hear a song played, know we like it, but don't really listen? Then one day for whatever reason, it breaks into that barrier of our mind, and really speaks to you. Unwritten did that to me this week. I have no idea how many times I have heard this song, but this week, suddenly it was there, no matter what I am doing, how focused I am on something else, when it is played on the radio, I HEAR it, it suddenly has meaning.



I am unwritten, can't read my mind, I'm undefined
I'm just beginning, the pen's in my hand, ending unplanned

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your innovations
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten

Oh, oh, oh

I break tradition, sometimes my tries, are outside the lines
We've been conditioned to not make mistakes, but I can't live that way

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inner visions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
To the years where your book begins

Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
To the years where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten

Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find

Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inner visions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
To the years where your book begins

Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
To the years where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten
The rest is still unwritten
The rest is still unwritten

Oh, yeah, yeah

Unwritten--Natasha Bedingfield

Sunday Stuff

What a strange day, I woke this morning, feeling so irritable, wanting no one around me, the worse thing about it, those are the days when no matter what...someone wants me...to spend time...to talk...to do. But instead of trying to go along, and get along, I was honest, I told them, I am feeling totally bitchy, so when I need some space, please let me have it. It worked, later, Miss Daughter and I had a mutual bitch session, laughing during most of it.

In fact, since she is feeling better, I decided to take her with me on my ...grrr...shopping trip...my turn to do the supermarket thing...which I hate, but we have fun when we do it together. Looking back on our little outings, I sometimes wonder what other shoppers may think of us. As we are usually so involved in our little conversations that we notice no one else...like the time we were caught by one of her school friends doing "The Morgan" (yes, like in the commercials) in the spirit aisle at Target.

Today was a department store day, to purchase some stockings, and look for shoes for her to wear in a fashion show next week. The problem with us when we shop together, is that we are very vocal when we see ugly things...I inadvertently insulted a woman today, she was in the process of purchasing a blouse...that I had said was destined for the shredder, it being the ugliest thing I had seen in months...of course Miss Daughter was also in the midst of a fit of giggles because of my mouth.

Next came the really fun stuff, as a mother I am still in a quandary...she decided today...was confide to Mom day...she told me...last weekend, she got drunk for the first time...then I got all the details...OK...she is 16...I can look back at my teen years, and think...so tame compared to me...breathing a sigh of relief...getting drunk but in an intelligent fashion...no driving, or riding around in cars. Deciding to stay sober on night number two so that she could babysit someone else who planned on getting totally trashed.

So I give her my two cents worth...no punishment as long as she continues to behave in a somewhat sensible manner, and I once again warn her of some of the dangers...OK, that went well...

Then out of her mouth pops..."I am such a terrible teenager"

"Why do you say that?"

"I shouldn't be telling my Mom this stuff, teenagers aren't supposed to do that."

"Why not?"

"We're just not."

Jokingly I say, "But I am a cool Mom, as long as you tell me, then I can deal, try to keep you as safe as possible."

"Yeah, but still."

"I still have one secret I haven't told you."


I am thinking...damn! What now? I know she doesn't do drugs, she is very outspoken among her friends about that, has even lost some over it. So, what? Has she lost her virginity?

"Okay, you have to tell me now, the thoughts running through my mind!"

"If I tell you, you can't ground me, you can't tell Dad, you can't tell (her brother)."

"OK, I will promise you that."

"Don't worry, I am still a virgin."

OK, thinking, there are other forms of sex, so I mention that.

She smiles and looks at me.

So I say, "Is your mouth still a virgin?"

She laughs, "Yes, my mouth too."

Another time for me to bring up, the fact that condoms are necessary for oral sex also.

"Yes, Mom, I know, diseases can be spread through oral too."

"So what? What is this big secret?"

She pulls down the waist band of her jeans----thank god we are sitting at a stoplight----and says, "I have a tattoo."

Sigh of relief, but still thinking, how do I respond to this? Not liking this but one bit, but very happy she is still a virgin.

I look. A very tasteful one inch 'mystery rune.' Again, I am thankful, it looks almost professionally done, not like some I have seen.

"How did you do it? When did you do it? Where did you do it?"

I get the whole story, the funny part to me, is...she said, by the next morning she had forgotten she had done it, then while showering, she remembered it, and she cried.

"Why, were you sorry you had done it."

"No, I like it, it was because you didn't know about it, and I thought I could never tell you."

I still don't really know how to handle this, if I appear too accepting, then what's next?
I am happy she trusts me enough to tell me these things, I never had that with my parents.
It is also something I have to keep from her father, I made a promise.
Keep this one simmering awhile I guess, and continue to be thankful that she confides in me, feels safe to do so, and hope she continues to think before she acts. Sex and drugs worry me the most, so even though I disagree with the tattoo, I am still breathing easier. And, thankfully, she chose something small, tasteful, and in a very inconspicuous spot.


My other excitement of the day...I collect oddball cereal boxes, the more whimsical the better, if Disney had a movie, and a cereal was marketed I have the box...and others too...my first was a box of Urkelo's......yes, from the TV show Family Matters.

Today, I squealed (literally) in the cereal aisle, they have Pirate's of the Caribbean cereal, with mister multi-talented-sexy, oh-so-hot-Johnny himself pictured on the box! We bought two.

What will I ever do with this bizarre collection? Dunno, but such a little thing to make me happy, and I can deal with that.

Miss Daughter came up to me a little while ago, and asked me if I hated her :(
I asked why, she said because of the tatt......poor thing, still don't know how to handle all this, but one step at time. I think her guilt has been a burden for quite some time, she has had it over a month.

In the continuation of our conversation, and talking about her friends who are 'bad girl wannabe's', worrying about them getting pregnant, she told me she almost got "teabagged once".

"You what? What the hell is teabagged?!?"

I have never heard this term before...

"Mom, what do guys have that are like teabags?"

"Cripes!"

I was speechless. Then I burst out laughing.
After I gathered my wits, I of course, had to hear the story. Seems she fell asleep watching TV at the home of a boyfriend, she woke up as he was attempting to...umm...teabag her...

What does my oh so wonderful Miss Daughter do?

Oh yeah! She busted his balls! Fist right in the teabag! Gotta love her!

Trivia Game

Those few of you that read this newest blog of mine know that I love games.
I came across a trivia site where we can kinda sorta play together. I hope when you have time you will come and play along.
The link is over in my links list, but it is also linked to the title of this post.
Which is something I just learned--cool!

So please won't you come play with me, if nothing else you can see how bad my memory really is, and know that you will always beat me :)

Today Is International Women's Day

Today was the kickoff for a great idea! Take some time and visit the International Women's Museum


Find some ways to help your community, your world, your children's futures.
Doesn't take much time. I don't do much, but somedays I really do think I make a difference, whether in the 2 youth organizations I am involved in, or when I walk for March of Dimes, or Homeward Bound (walks for the homeless). It does feel good!

TAKE ACTION
HEALTHY RELATIONSHIPS: In the face of serious health issues stemming from intimate relationships—from HIV/AIDS to domestic violence—young women (and men!) are stepping up to the plate to transform their lives and communities. They are doing so not as victims but as agents—working alongside their partners and communities to find new solutions to daunting and complex problems. You can join this tremendously positive movement to save millions of lives at risk. At the above site, there are some great ways to get involved.