Tango and Noodle Hockey

Today I spent at least 30 rather goofily ecstatic minutes with the morning crew in the main room at Geriabulous, listening to tango, and playing "hockey" with about 20 elderly folks. They were all gathered in a circle, in their seats or wheelchairs, wielding fun noodles, which are normally used in swimming pools, and have been cut off so they can be used as thwacking implements to send beachballs and balloons careening around the room. Man, physical activity is so good for the soul. I had so much fun, and they were gleeful. I also helped a blind person play Bingo for the second time--my first day I sat in-between two blind people to help with Bingo. It's weird to see people who haven't been blind for their whole lives; it's gotta be an incredibly hard thing to adjust to late in life, when other things related to one's independence from and connections to others are already made more difficult as mobility and cognitive speed decrease, and friends die and children move away and get busy.

Friday was my first day with the crew that I'd mistakenly described in my prior post as developmentally disabled. They're not. They're all people who've suffered some sort of brain injury that's left them at least cognitively impaired, some from strokes, some from accidents. That group was incredibly fun. Many were difficult to understand, but none were surly. They were happy and optimistic, introduced themselves and asked for, and remembered, my name. I spent threee hours participating in various activities with them, including assisting some as we walked laps around the downstairs offices, playing an indoor version of frisbee golf that involved bases, and reading creepy Halloween-ish stories. Towards the end of the day, around 5:30 p.m., as everyone was waiting for their rides and leaving in small groups, those of us left had no stories, so someone asked if I knew any. I sang "The Fox" (a version of the lyrics here: http://www.festivarian.com/index.php?topic=2110.0), then they asked if I knew more songs, so I sang about 4 different camp songs from my days as a Girl Scout camper and later counselor, all of which had repeated parts that others could easily pick up and sing along with. Then it was mentioned that this one quiet guy in a wheelchair who's lost a lot of motor control is a Beatles fan, so we all sang "Help" together, then he sang "Yesterday," and it wasn't poignant and sad, it was impressive and inspiring.

Volunteering

A few weeks ago, I interviewed for an underpaid job with a nonprofit organization I thought had a super-cool mission: they provide adult daycare. It's called day health for obvious reasons, for the frail elderly and otherwise disabled, to give respite to the caregivers--usually family members--for such folk so that the caregivers don't get burnt out, and the care recipients can stay out of longterm care facilities as long as possible. Before a bunch of statewide budget cuts, this nonprofit also provided counseling and support for the caregivers. Makes so much sense to me. Also makes sense that the state would be short-sighted enough to think it was a good place to save money in the budget, not realizing how much it saves them on Medicaid in the long run to keep people out of longterm care facilities. Huh.

Anyway, this organization, which I'll call Geriabulous, needed more hours from me than I could work, so they didn't give me the job. But I think they're so great that I decided to volunteer with them, which, as of Monday (5 days ago), I'm doing 9 hours/week. I like the work. It moves slowly, since it involves the frail elderly, which forces me to slow down and practice patience. I haven't worked my afternoon shift yet--afternoons are for the developmentally disabled, and I'm interested to see what that will look like.

Mornings go in chunks: 8:45-9:45 arrival, coffee (decaf), social time; 9:45-10:30 exercise; 10:30-11:30 some sort of activity; 11:30-12 get situated for lunch. Transitions are slow.
While people are there they see nurses, get vaccines for things, see OTs and PTs--it's really great, and a huge contrast to what I saw at the longterm care facility where I did my clinicals. At the LTCF, emphasis was on speed and task-completion: get them fed, changed, into bed, stat. That is, everything was about physical health, pretty much completely neglecting mental and emotional health, which was, of course, detrimental to physical health. The only "recreation" I saw was residents pushed in their wheelchairs to a TV room, where they sat for hours on end, listless. I realize the missions of the two institutions are different, but they both purport to provide "care," and I think the LTCF's care was distinctly lacking in a caring attitude towards the "care" it provided.

Back to Geriabulous: my first morning there I helped a blind woman, Judith, and a Spanish-speaking blind man, Jose, to do the exercises. Sylvia, who leads the exercises, asked that I help them figure out what they should be doing since they can't watch her and mimic. Everyone (about 30 folks) are gathered around in a big circle in the main room of the converted church that houses the nonprofit. To get to their spots, the clients inch along in walkers, push themselves in their wheelchairs--they are _not_ impatiently and efficiently guided into place by workers who think they need to get the next thing done. The first 3/4 of the exercises are done while sitting. Sylvia has them shrug their shoulders, move their arms in different directions, tap their feet forward and sideways... then we pass out weights, between 1 and 5 pounds, letting the clients choose how much they want to use. It's pretty neat, and they are engaged and really participate. The employees and volunteers are there to check on folks who aren't participating, ask them if they need help, and if so, what help. We treat them like adults, and they are clearly pleased we do so. I like this a lot.

I am starting to understand what my developmental psych instructor meant this summer when she called the elderly "invisible"--they are ignored, overlooked, treated like children or annoying pets, they are wished away. I think I might end up doing geriatric nursing as a career. This is a fascinating population to me, and working with the elderly serves as a perpetual reminder to be grateful for my senses and my mobility, and to do what I know I can to maintain them. My social circle is filled with energetic, young (in spirit and health, if not in age), optimistic, beautiful people, and this means I have a narrowed perspective on life. Working with the elderly would allow me to expand my horizons a little as I am helping an under-appreciated population.