Covert Missons

Everybody has a story. Mix in a dab of dementia, a ton of family dynamics, a slab of money and you will have the recipe for the Perfect Storm and a great story.  Having spent close to 30 years in the long-term health care industry, I have heard every possible version of who takes the” best care of Daddy” , “who in the family could not care less” and who is strictly a” player waiting on his inheritance.”      Quite honestly, it is all very irrelevant to me, but I am forced to listen to every single son, daughter, grandchild and any other interested party of the resident who feels the need to explain their ” status”  and position.

Over the past few months, I have been dealing with one resident, six sets of lawyers, eight adult children, Adult Protective Services and four different medical doctors. Each day, my time is consumed by this group of people. It is a drama filled excursion to say the least.  One son wants mama to live in another state, closer to him. One daughter wants mama to move to another part of Virginia to be closer to her. Another wants mama moved to a hi-rise, luxury facility on her side of town. The middle child wants mama in a nursing home. The resident’s husband says his wife is to not be moved anywhere, at anytime, by anyone.   The question I have yet to have the answer to is so simple, yet so complex.  Who exactly calls the shots here and is the actual Power of Attorney (POA)? 

One would think the spouse has full rights to dictate his wife’s care. He has a notary sealed POA.  Ummm, well, so does 4 of the children. Each one can produce their own legal documents stating they are  “in charge”.   My legal beagles tried to clear matters up by stating, ” Whoever holds the most current document is the actual POA. Follow the date trail and adhere to who holds the most current one.” 

Well, that sounds simple enough, I study each document, finally determining which one is “most current.” Seems like the third child wins.

I draft a letter to all eight children  and the husband stating my finding.  I conclude the letter with ” I do hope this brings a resolution to this matter.”   Resolution, Yeah right.

For the next two weeks, my office was bombarded with certified letters, phone calls and a host of emails from the family.

” Mother was not competent when she signed that document. I will see you in court.” 

“You are not in the position to make this judgment call. My lawyer will be contacting you personally to clarify your letter.”

“Your concern Ms. Steele is noted, however, you are biased and have no place in our family matters. My lawyer will be contacting you.”

“My mother is fully competent and can make her own decisions. My sister has ulterior motives which involves monetary gain and exploitation of my mother’s affairs.”It is your duty to protect my mother, not feed her to the wolves. I am pursuing legal action.”

 

Oh goody. So much for problem solved.

The next day, the middle son walks into my office, hands me his POA and a ” No Trespass” document that was clearly a product of google search.  He explains to me that he received my letter however unless I am prepared to be sued, he expected me to honor his POA and his ” No Trespass” which he had filled in with all of his siblings names, blocking them from the facility.    Ummmmmmmm……….hmmmmmmm.

The following morning, the middle daughter arrives at the facility at 6:30 am, She told the staff she was taking her mother out to breakfast.  When I arrive at work, the staff are in a full panic over the resident being ” abducted” by the daughter. I explain to them that it is all ok…that she is the POA…….

Within hours, the husband called, demanding to know why his wife was at the bank trying to withdraw five hundred dollars from their joint account.  I explained she was with the POA and that I had no control over where they go……

By 2 pm, I was beginning to worry….I tried to call the daughter’s cell phone…no answer. I left a voicemail. Around 3 PM, the oldest daughter called, demanding to speak to her mother on the phone. I explained she was still out of the facility with the other daughter, which caused a major explosion.

” I’m calling the police.”   Which she did. 

By 6 pm, the resident was returned to the facility, safe and sound. The daughter was livid. ” You really called the police Jessi? Who do you think you are?”   Before I could answer, she stormed off………Wait, I didn’t call the police….

The following Tuesday morning, I received a full medical report stating that the resident had seen a ” house call doctor and his finding were” patient is deemed competent and can make her own decisions and does not need care.” I was perplexed…when did she see this doctor? The address provided for him was over four hours away……..hmmmm.  So, the day the daughter took her out for over 12 hours was really not a breakfast outing but rather a doctor’s visit …HMMM.   Very covert.

By Thursday, I had lawyers lining up at my door. Each presenting me with a ” Notice of Hearing” document, to determine who would be appointed Guardian IF the court deemed one necessary. I almost needed those “name tags that read ” Hello My Name Is” just to define which lawyer went with each son or daughter. Each lawyer would try to have a conversation with the resident….asking her various questions which the resident could not answer….remember, she does have dementia.

The saga continues and will probably be drug out for some time as does with any legal battle. But what really is the motive for so many opinions? Could it be due to the fact that the resident is worth millions of dollars and the POA will have full access to the bank accounts, condos and time shares?  Could it be that this family is just dysfunctional to the point where each has to control the other?      I honestly do not know the answer.

The lesson I hope we all take from this story is, make your important life decisions while you are of sound mind. Have a set of Advance Directives drawn up legally, appointing the most trusted person in your life as your POA. Only appoint one person, not half a dozen. if you choose to revoke a POA, do it correctly and maintain copies of every letter sent or received in regards to the POA.  People that do my type of job will make sure you are safe, comfortable and well cared for, but we can not protect you from your family unless we have a tidy paper trail clearly identifying who’s who in your life.     By doing these things, you will enable us to be your greatest enforcer of your life choices. Otherwise, you may be the next “covert operation”.

 

 

 

 

Mama’s Rent

Have you ever felt as if you were the only person on earth that feels a certain way about things?  Either I  have gone bonkers, or society is a few fries short of a happy meal! Let me explain.

I was approached in the hallway by one of the nurses. last week, who reported to me a conversation she had had with a family member earlier in the day. Evidently, the family wanted a detail account of every medication “mama” was taking including who ordered it, why it was being given, how often it is given and how much it cost.     The nurse explained all that was within her scope of practice….everything but the cost.  Apparently the family was very dissatisfied with this …..

” I know what you people are up to. You are just keeping mama alive so you can collect her rent money”, the,  family screamed through the phone.  The nurse, who was caught totally off guard by such a powerful accusation had no clue as to how to respond. Scrambling for an appropriate response, she stated, ” I follow the doctor’s orders. If you would like, I can connect you to the Administrator to discuss the financial side of things…..””      The family chose not to talk to me, but rather, they slammed the phone down.

The nurse began justifying to me the medication “mama” was taking…carefully explaining how the resident needed each of the pills…one for acid reflux, one for edema, one for pain, one for fluid build-up, an aspirin and  a B12 injection. Hmmm.

Let me get this straight. The family thinks we are intentionally keeping her mother alive so we can collect her “rent money.” Wow. I don’t think I have ever been accused of such!  

I decided to call the family myself and sort through her concerns. I certainly do not tolerate anyone screaming at my staff and am quick to state my opinion to those who do so.           Once on the phone with the family member, I could tell the conversation was not going to go well….

” Listen Jessi, I know you are doing the best you can over there, but look, I can’t keep paying these bills that come in, and the pharmacy bill is out of control. Some times I think you just keep half the people over that at your place alive just so you can make money off them. Admit it, you know so many of them would be better off if they died; put out of their misery, but that would affect your bottom line.”      Before I could stop myself, I switched from Administrator to all HUMAN……..

” Mrs, Simon, stop right there. I am not God. I do not control anyone’s fate; their life, nor their death. It is my duty to my profession and to my own  personal character to provide care  and to indeed keep everyone alive! But you are the daughter and Power of Attorney, so the choices you make control life and death.  Do not shift your responsiblity onto me or the staff.  Furthermore, how dare you insinuate that we keep people alive for a profit!! We not only care for every resident in our facility, but we also CARE about them as well……….”    I quickly regained the tone and volume of my voice, knowing I was treading a fine line of unprofessionalism.   Mrs. Simon seemed unmoved by my rant.

” Do you know how much I owe the pharmacy?”She asked.

Before I could answer… she ylelled ” 72 dollars and 94 cent. You may as say 73 dollars.”

I sat at my desk, holding the phone in my ear, speechless. The words I wanted to say, were far from appropriate.  Seriously? 73 dollars?

What is wrong with people??????????????????  The world has stopped for Mrs. Simon over $72. 93 and it is the fault of the facility that her mother is still alive.    Just wow.      Let me say it again…..WOW.

If she felt so strongly about her mother not NEEDING to spend  $72.93, then why bother having her in a facility such as mine? Certainly there are much cheaper facilities, or why even bother with a facility at all. Why not drive her to an assisted suicide state and drop the hatchet?

People love to talk about their right to die……and they are right to do so. We all have an appointed time to die, BUT, we also have a right to live.

Just wow. 72 dollars and 93 cent.

The Gift

I have always heard that God’s timing is the perfect timing; and I must say that I agree. Regardless of what we need or want in life, God has already set a plan in motion for what is ” best” and the outcome has already been declared. We must simply wait for that perfect time……Jeremiah 29:11 says, “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper
you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future”.  Before we were even born, God had a plan for each of us…..He knew the whens, wheres and hows of our lives before we were born.

I was very blessed by God to have been born into a loving, Christian home with parents that deeply loved their children. I was even more blessed, to have a man of God, a simple preacher-man who I called “dad”. I was his ever-present shadow,constantly reaching for his hand as a toddler, as I weeble-wobbled across the floor. My mother would always say,” out of 6 children, you were the most difficult. Your father was your only pacifier.” As a teenager, set in my ways and as stubborn as a mule, my mother would declare ” You are your father’s child!” It was no secret that I idolized him. Everywhere dad, went, I was right behind him. For years, I thought my name was “Shadow” because people would say…”I see you have your shadow with you!”

Every Sunday morning, I would stand by my dad at the back door, as he greeted every church-goer after the service. I learned to shake hands, nod and smile and say” It was so nice to see you today in the Lord’s House, thank you for coming”, before I knew the alphabet or could count past five. Over the years, I learned how to show genuine concern, compassion and empathy to those in need, simply by emulating dad. He taught me the definition of love in action, by doing more and saying less. He showed me by example of how to be transparent, accept criticism and to defend the belief system I had come to treasure.

The deep south in the 60’s was a difficult time with the racial issues taking the forefront of everyone’s lives. My father stood in the pulpit and preached about a God who did not see color or race. I can still hear his voice booming…” God does not care what color you are, He does not care which side of the tracks you were born on, nor is God concerned with the size of your home or bank account. God is concerned with the condition of your heart. Is it one full of love and compassion for your brothers and sisters around you, or is it riled with hatred and vanity? As for me and my house we will serve the Lord, and conduct ourselves by loving ALL of mankind…” Today, as a seasoned adult, I think that was a bold and brave move and statement for him…..a statement that could have the crosses burning in front of our own home……. That’s the kind of man dad was, uncompromising in what he believed.

Pretty much everything in life that I learned, from riding a bicycle, to bungee jumping, my dad was the one who showed me how…(well the bungee jumping, he prayed heavily to God for me to “come to my senses”, but to protect me in spite of my youth). He drove me out of state to college and held my hand as he said “goodbye”. He wrote weekly letters, filled with love and concern for me. Every Wednesday, I would receive a church bulletin from the past Sunday, neatly folded with a note from him that read ; ” Here is Sundays’ bulletin. I love you, Love, Dad.” He stood most proud the day I graduated college……I was just as proud as I introduced him around to my friends…”this is MY dad…”

He walked me down the aisle at my wedding, then took to the pulpit to perform the ceremony.

He was only a phone call away, regardless of the situation, which as I learned, life has a lot of situations. He would drive hundreds of miles to “make sure I was alright”, carefully not involving himself in my marital problems. He never judged. He simply listened and gave his advice when I asked for it. He mailed cards of encouragement, which simply read, “I love You. Love, Dad.”

Years came and went. Holidays flew by. Life happened. The darkest day of my life came on August 28,2000. My dad passed away from a short battle with prostate cancer. Suddenly, he was gone. I was lost. Distraught. Devastated. Almost destroyed. The bond my dad and I shared was deep and now it was broken………..

So many people showed up for his funeral. After the service, I stood at the door of the church with my siblings and mother, greeting and thanking those who had came. I shook hands, nodded and smiled the best I could. So many people saying so many nice things about my dad……just when I thought I would have a nervous breakdown on the spot, one of dad’s deacons from his last church, put his hand on my shoulder. ” Young lady, I knew your father for over 30 years, You are just like him. You talk like him, act like him, have that smile that he had, and you even walk like him. He lives on right there in you. I know you will always make him proud. He sure loved you.” Those words changed my life..I was like him …I was “my father’s child.”

As I sit here today, I think it was no coincidence that my dad was born on Christmas Eve. The life that he lived, the example he was, and his love for everyone was a gift from God, to me. It’s the Christmas present that God gave to me, long before I was born…and it’s a gift that lives within my heart forever.

Happy Birthday daddy…Love, Shadow

Mismatched Shoes

Today at work, you could hear the whispers of staff as they flipped a quarter in a coin toss, to decide who would tell Jimmy that his shoes were on the wrong feet. You see, Jimmy is a proud man who can still do most things for himself without any assistance from anyone. He prides himself in his ability to recall historical events, discuss world politics knowledgeably and provide insight to articles he has read in American Scientist.   Jimmy is a very intelligent man, often using words I have to look up in the dictionary to follow conversation with him…….but yet, Jimmy has dementia.

Okay, so his boots are on the wrong feet…..which is better? Having him wear them incorrectly and possibly be uncomfortable or insulting his pride by pointing his error out? Or do we assume that he is having an ” off day” due to his dementia and monitor him more closely? Hmmmm…the right decision must be made here.

I passed through the living room and took note of his boots. Sure enough, left was right and right was left………oh boy. Sitting down at my desk, I was reminded of my own ” off day”….. For many years, I played the keyboards in my church during worship services. We had two services every Sunday morning, with seating capacity for 1500…pretty big crowd, eh?. I played two sets of keyboards, so I would stand the entire time, highly visible to the congregation.

After one extremely long service, the Pastor’s wife who was seated on the front row, beckoned me to the edge of the platform. She leaned in close to my ear and began to whisper quietly……
” Jessi, dear, I don’t know if you know this or not, but sweetie, your shoes do not match. I just wanted you to be aware.”.
Looking down at my shoes, they seemed perfectly normal to me. You see, I am color blind…..my world is a hue off from what yours is….blue and black are both black…...<a

” Oh thanks for telling me”, I replied. “What color are they? Are they off by much? Is one a shade darker than the other?”

The look she gave me was one of bewilderment. awe and possible wonder. She recovered enough to whisper, “One is dark blue, the other is black……but sweetie, if you are comfortable with them being like that,it is okay by me. Please don’t be offended. I know you younger girls make fashion statements all the time…….”

I interrupted her, offering to explain my mismatched shoes…….” Mrs. Ferguson, I am color blind, not a fashion guru……” I could see the relief in her face……After a chuckle and a smile, we began preparing for the next service. There was no time for me to dash home and grab another pair of shoes, so it simply was as it was……..

During the second service, I became so aware of my shoes…almost paraniod….feeling that all 1500 worshippers were staring at my feet. Any other Sunday, I could play for an hour without flinching….the music flowed effortlessly for me. I didn’t need sheet music….I didn’t need anyone to prompt when and where to come in…..I simply flowed. Not this service. I missed several intro’s, forgot one entire song and let’s just say….there was no flow….zippo. Nada. None.

After the conclusion of the service, I raced outside to my car and went straight home. As soon as I walked in the door, I began yelling at Jeff, my husband. (It was his job ya know….to make sure I looked good!)

” Look at my shoes! They don’t match! How could you let me leave the house this morning looking like this??????”

” They looked fine to me”, he mumbled as he continued to stare at TV. I wonder why men notice some articles of clothing but not others??????

Pride. My pride had been insulted simply because I had worn mismatched shoes. Embarrassed. I can still feel my cheeks radiating heat as they turn bright red at just the thought of it……

What about Jimmy and his shoes? Should we ignore the fact that he is wearing them on the wrong feet, simply to spare him the feeling of embarrassment? Should we force him to acknowledge that maybe his dementia is a bit more defined than he would like to admit to? Hmmmm.

I decided to tackle the problem with no game plan at all. I sat down beside Jimmy and sighed heavily.

” Hey Jess. What’s going on today? Looks like you are having a rough run at it.” He folded the newspaper and devoted his full attention to me; shifting in his chair to make direct eye contact.

” Well Jimmy, it’s too early to predict the day, but I am sure the sun is shining somewhere in the world….”

For fifteen minutes, we discussed the morning news, the modern war and nuclear bombs. We decided that we could solve all the world’s problems if we were out in charge for an hour……..As I got up to leave, I slapped Jimmy on the knee and whispered, ” Before we take on the World, you may ought to put your shoes on the right feet….”

He let out a belly laugh….” That’s why my feet are rubbing. I grabbed my boots in the dark this morning and dag-gone if I didn’t put them on the wrong feet. Glad you caught that!”

I smiled as I walked away, feeling accomplished. Sensitivity is the key in dealing with all situations, even more so with dementia patients. People often think that since they are cognitively impaired, that mis-matched clothing, disheveled hair or even misplaced shoes is harmless. I think not. Preserving another person’s dignity should always be one of the first and foremost concerns…….no disease should over ride an individuals sense of pride.

Shoes…..who would thought such a powerful lesson could be learned from one Sunday morning…and a pair of mismatched shoes.

Don’t forget to pick up your copy of my latest book, ” God’s Waiting Room” today!

Lost In Conversation

Have you ever been talking to one person about something while yet, turning to talk to another person about something entirely different?  The other night, I was standing  outside in the cold with a group of friends, chatting about a whole lot of nothing while watching a late season softball game. The conversation went like this:

Matt: I am freezing to death.

Dee: It is  cold out here. I can’t wait to go home and take a warm bath.

Me: Oh yeah, anything to warm up.

Sam: I’m going home and getting in my jacuzzi. The water is set at 120 degrees. Boiling!

Jeff ( just joining group). We had two boilers go down at work. Who has boiler trouble?

Diane: ( joining group)  Who is in trouble? I have a great lawyer  if you need one. He worked miracles in my divorce.

Tammy ( joining group)  Who is getting a divorce?                             

 

__________________________________________________________________________________________________

Each of us turned to see who Tammy was talking to, unsure of her place in the conversation.  Tammy stood there, awaiting an answer on who was divorcing who.

Diane: I have a great lawyer if you need one.

Tammy: Who? Me? I am not even married, so not me.

Mike ( joining convo) Who is getting married?

Okay, you see the point. This conversation about how cold it was outside, changed course with each new person piping in the conversation.  The original conversation was simply about “ warming up“, not divorce, not marriage, not boilers ( whatever they are),  and not about trouble of any kind…….One person merely commented on how cold they had become while standing out in the weather……nothing more, nothing less.

For a moment, I felt as if I were at  the facility, with a multitude of dementia patients, each lost in their own conversation.  I smiled to myself and continued to watch the ball game.  Tammy could not let go of the topic, or the subject, or whatever it was she thought we were discussing before she joined the conversation.

” Jessi, are Bob and Cindy the ones getting a divorce? I could tell something was wrong with them the last few times I have seen them. Gosh, it is so sad. It seems like they have been married forever. I wonder what happened?” With that said, she sighed heavily.

I turned to face her, eyeball to eyeball. I felt that for me to communicate with her effectively, I needed to have her hear me, acknowledge what I said, and declare her understanding back to me.

” Tammy, I do not have a clue about Bob and Cindy. I have not heard anything about a divorce, between them or anyone else……no clue.”

You would have thought the matter was cleared up……but it wasn’t. She, to this day, is convinced hat someone on the ball team is getting a divorce…….she just doesn’t know who.

Here is the thing. We as humans mostly hear what we think we heard. When we engage with another in conversation, do we find ourselves listening, or searching for the right thing to say back while pretending to listen?  It becomes a tennis match of words bouncing back and forth…….conversation.  You speak, I speak…your turn, my turn……..your turn, my turn………..

Somewhere in the conversation, the meaning is lost. Boilers? Marriage? Divorce? Trouble?  Lost? Who is lost?  Are you lost?………. See what I mean?

In dealing with dementia patients, I listen very closely to what they are saying. Do you know why? Because I can’t conjure up my reply before they are done speaking……I have to listen, really listen, to see where their story is going to take me. They may be talking about going home…..( I have to listen to see if a hint is dropped of which home.. childhood home?…military home….which home….last house called home? Which one?)  Once I determine the route of the conversation, I then can reply…..

What if we all stopped listening, just to listen?  Listening while the person speaking spoke to us, absorbing what was being spoken…..not bracing for a reply, ready for a “turn” to speak…….What if we did more than “caught part of the conversation” and heard enough to be able to reply?

Listening. Being heard. Understanding what was spoken.     If we all stopped talking, and just listened, what would we hear? 

 

 

 

Are You A Foreigner?

I have known Pam for over ten years. We spend every Friday night standing around the softball field shooting the breeze , about a whole lot of nothing. Last Friday night was a bit odd; odd and a tad awkward.
” Hey Jessi, can I ask you something? ” Before I could answer, Pam continued, ” Are you a foreigner?”
Wow. Where do you think that came from? Right out of the blue. Okay, let’s assess the situation. I am dressed in a softball jersey and Nike shorts; nope not that. Could it be my jet black hair, maybe? Or is it my dark suntan than has enhanced my already “suntan color” skin? Is it my dark eyes?
” Um, no, I am not a foreigner Pam…” I said as I chuckled. I am Indian.” I think that should have cleared the matter right up……. or not.
” Oh cool. Do you wear the dot? You know the dot thing in your forehead?” By now the whole ball team was interested in the convo.
” Dot? Say what? What dot?” I asked before I thought it through. She was referring to the bindhi, the symbol adorning women from predominately Asia, including India. Pam thinks Indian means India-n.
” No, not India, Indian;…. Native American …Indian….” I explained. She seemed satisfied with the clarification, so I thought………
“Oh, I didn’t think Indians were called Indians anymore. Ya’ll are called Native Americans, that’s what is correct now. That’s why I was confused. Indians are the “dot people”, and the other Indians are Native Americans.” Pam’s education of what an Indian was/is and her definitions of both sects of people amused me.
” Well Pam, I understand your thinking, but to say I am a Native American is incorrect. America did not exist, until an Italian explorer named Amerigo Vespucci actually arrived in the continent before Columbus , discovered it. Hence the name ” America, after Amerigo.” Oddly enough, when Columbus did “discover America, he thought it was ” India”. Native Americans called America, ” Turtle Island” or other names, such as “Fourth Home” depending on tribal location……..” Before I could finish my explanation, Pam had lost interest and moved to another conversation………..just as the Ump yelled, ” PLAY BALL”!
As the team took to the field, I thought about Pam and the whole conversation that had just transpired. I wondered why she had thought to ask the initial question; what her curiosity was sparked by, and if she had understood anything I had said. Having been friends for over ten years, what difference did it really make it I were a “foreigner” or not? Would it have changed our friendship if I had answered ” yes”?

We worry these days about being Politically Correct. We don’t wish to “offend”, but yet we will judge in a moments’ notice. Right after 9/11, each time I boarded an aircraft, I would become extremely nervous if I saw a “foreigner”, dressed a certain way…..If I took the subway in New York, I would become very alarmed if someone boarded the train that wore saggy pants and a sideways baseball cap……….Even though I knew the politically correct identity of each, it was what I thought I knew that allowed me to judge them…….I guess you could call it stereotyping. We forget who the person is, their stand alone identity…..and choose to group them as we assume they all are. Not all who are from the mid-east are terrorist……not all who wear baggy pants are thugs……
One day I will ask Pam why she asked that question, just to satisfy my own curiosity…..But you know, I did learn one thing from that Friday night experience; none of us are above being judged by another, even those who are our friends.. It’s just human nature. If there is anything unique or different about you, be sure those around , have taken notice and made a decision about how they feel about you.
Look at dementia patients. They have names, John, Bill, Teresa, Mary, Wilma, Nana, Grandma…Grandpa, Boompa, or Papa….Yet, due to the progressed dementia, they have been re-classed, fitting the definition of a disorder, not the person they are. Just because Nana can’t remember the family tree, her visitors slowly fade….The “family” doesn’t think she “knows what’s going on, or knows who they are”, hence the lack of visitors. Nana has been stereotyped with a class of forgotten people…the “dementia patients”. Here’s my question to them, ” Have you forgotten who she is? Is she the same Nana who cooked your favorite creamed filled chocolate pie every Sunday when you were a child? Was her home the destination for Christmas Eve feasts, where she filled your stocking with so many goodies that it overflowed? Did she not babysit you at some point in time? Were you not the ” apple of her eye” as most grandchildren are? Then why suddenly has she fallen into the profile of the forgotten? Simply because her memory is shot?
Just as Pam made her assertions based on what she saw, thought or had even heard, I am still the same person I was ten years ago when we first met; just as your Nana is the same person as she was in 1970……….it’s the your perception of the person that changed…………….
My point today is simple…..I don’t care about Political Correctness. I don’t care if the Washington Redskins are called the Redskins or The Washington Blacksheep, they are my football team. I don’t care if you think Columbus discovered America or India…….I am proud to live in the United States. I don’t care if you think dementia and Alzheimer’s are the same thing……
I care about kindness. I care about living peacefully with everyone else. I care about finding a cure for dementia. I care about making the world a better place……..It doesn’t matter if I’m red, black, yellow or green; or if I have on baggy pants or skin tight jeans, wear a bandana or a Hijab….or if I am of sound mind or half crazy……….none of it matters. ….. What matters is, we should all matter.

The New Normal

This week one of the residents in the facility, Mr. Irwin, caught a news segment about the violence taking place across the world, following by a blurb about an ebola patient in Texas. Even though his dementia, he recognized how the world has changed, for the worse.
“Back in my day, you didn’t see all those kinds of things. I am glad I am old and no longer out there.”
Wow, what a profound truth. The world has become a much more scary place than the Roaring Twenties, or even the Fabulous Fifties ……instead we migrated to Terrifying Two-Thousands. We have reached a place in our society where we live with drive by shootings instead of rival fist fights. We no longer walk away from a job, angry at our employer; but rather we whip out a Uzi and shoot them. We no longer simply divorce a spouse,; we hire a hit man to eliminate them. Our worst nightmares have become the reality in which we live.
As I walk through the facility, I see residents who have lived through so much. They battled some of the greatest wars ever fought, and came home heroes. They fought for our freedom, defending the Nation that once was “Under God.” Today, I am not sure what we are ” under”. It is my belief that the day the President proclaimed that we were ” no longer a Christian nation…”, we were doomed. Back in the 20s, Islam may have existed, but it was not the faith of our Founding Fathers. Back in the 30’s, I am sure no one could define “Muslim”. I don’t think there was ever a “school massacre in the 50’s. Even in the 60’s and 70’s, the psychedelic generations, no one knew what a ” terrorist attack”, was all about………. In the 80’s, we did not fear for our lives every time we stepped out of our front door. We didn’t worry about being beheaded or catching a disease that has no cure…..
Last weekend, I was at Washington Dulles Airport. I was caught off guard what I saw the police officers patrolling with dogs and machine guns. Machine guns. I looked around to see what was going on; assessing to see if we were under attack…hoping they would get the bad guy …but no, rather, this is the new normal.
I do not like the new normal. It was bad enough living in the Washington DC area when the Beltway Sniper roamed about shooting at, and killing people for sport. The entire Tri State area was on full alert. Gas stations placed tarps around the gas pumps so we could hide behind them as we filled up our cars. People ran for safety as they parked in grocery store parking lots; hoping to not be shot by the snipers. We truly lived in fear during that time. We all hoped and prayed that law enforcement would “catch the guy” who was terrorizing us. Once they captured the pair of shooters, all of DC went back to normal. The tarps came down; playgrounds were filled with kids playing and laughing and parks became overcrowded……we had returned to our normal lives.
Now with the possibility of random killings, beheadings, drive by shootings, flag burnings and “cell groups” laying in wait for their prey……I guess the police do need to carry machine guns….. I think the days of feeling safe anywhere….are over.
I remember starting the school day with the Lord’s Prayer and the Pledge of Allegiance. I attended Sunday School and memorized the Ten Commandments, the Beatitudes and Psalm 23. I was taught to say ” please, thank you, no ma’am and no sir.” I bowed my head and said “grace” before every meal. Before I went to bed, I knelt on my knees and prayed… ” Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If I die, before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take, amen”.
Now, the Ten Commandments are no longer allowed in Government buildings because they are “offensive and violate the freedom of religion”. Whose religion?????? Not mine. Children can not stand and say the Lord’s Prayer because ” it violates the rights of others”. Whose rights? Not mine. We live in world that is now more worried about the rights of others that we no longer have rights. We worry about violating other’s freedoms to the point where we have no freedom. We are no longer a ” Nation Under God”. We replaced our Fearless attitude with that of being fearful….. 

 

Mr. Irwin forgot what the news anchor reported and the images he saw shortly after seeing them. He shuffled on down the hall to bingo without a care in the world…………oh how I wish I could do the same………..

K9 Kota Challenge

Recently I was reading an article about a police dog ,named K9 Kota. I must say I was impressed with his love for his handler. After reading the article, I found myself thinking, ” Wow, a dog did all of that for his handler and I’m not sure I have a friend who would have done that for me!” You see, Kota and his police handler were answering a radio call for a burglary when the incident that changed everything happened.
Upon arriving at the house, the officers were trying to locate and apprehend one of the burglars, while Kota sought out and attempted to subdue a second burglar who had hidden himself in an attic space. No one is sure what happened….but as Kota and the burglar struggled, Kota fell through the ceiling and sustained massive injuries to his leg, including broken bones. In the meantime, the officers were still trying to get the first burglar under control on the second floor of the house. They knew nothing of Kota’s injuries. They had heard a crash and a yelp, but they were not in a position to help him………

Kota, severely injured, knew his handler was still up there, scuffling with the bad guy. Without thought of himself, his pain, his injury or suffering, Kota climbed each step to make sure she was okay.
Such a selfless act of Valor……

The world today could learn so much from Kota and the traits he possesses. Loyal, concerned, devoted and selfless are just a few words that come to my mind…….Wouldn’t it be amazing if we all cared for and respected one another with such intensity? Can you imagine how peaceful the world would be if we always put others before ourselves?
There is an old expression, ” the world has gone to the dogs”…..My thought is this….if all the dogs were like Kota, that would be a dynamic statement to define the society we have become! Sadly though, I don’t think that old adage is meant in a positive way…………….
You know, people everywhere are taking challenges from Ice Bucket Dumping to Hot Dog Consumption to raise money for very worthwhile causes. I too, have a challenge that I would like to present, but not for any cause, except for the cause of kindness. We will call it the ” Kota Challenge”.
For 24 hours, replace negativity with positivity. Exchange hate for love. Kindness instead of cruelty. Understanding for judgment. Selfless instead of selfish. Patience instead of condemnation.

Jesus Himself set the standard for how we should live and how we should treat other people. Look at this :
• Ephesians 4:32 Be kind to one another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, as God in Christ forgave you
• Luke 6:31 And as you wish that others would do to you, do so to them.
• Matthew 7:12 So whatever you wish that others would do to you, do also to them, for this is the Law and the Prophets.
• 1 Peter 3 8-12 Finally, all of you, have unity of mind, sympathy, brotherly love, a tender heart, and a humble mind. Do not repay evil for evil or reviling for reviling, but on the contrary, bless, for to this you were called, that you may obtain a blessing. For “Whoever desires to love life and see good days, let him keep his tongue from evil and his lips from speaking deceit; let him turn away from evil and do good; let him seek peace and pursue it. For the eyes of the Lord are on the righteous, and his ears are open to their prayer. But the face of the Lord is against those who do evil.”

• Philippians 2-4 Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.
Lastly, my personal favorite:
Romans 12: 10 Love one another with brotherly affection. Outdo one another in showing honor.
Imagine that….OUTDOING one another with kindness……Wow.
That’s the theme for our Kota Challenge. Outdoing one another with kindness……….That is my challenge to each of you.

One last thing, good deeds don’t always go unnoticed. Kota is up for an award. The Hero Dog Award. Please consider going to this website and casting your vote for him..

http://www.herodogawards.org/vote

This is a photo of K9 Kota, used by permission from his handler. You can follow him and his healing progress on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/k9kota

Don’t forget to take the Kota Challenge!

See Spot Run

Do you remember when you were back in grade school, learning the difference between nouns and verbs? We were taught proper nouns, improper nouns, pronouns and action words…. I can still hear my second grade teacher asking; ” What is the noun in the sentence , See Spot run.? Well, that’s simple. Spot.
Pleased with our correct response, she challenged us further. ” What is the first verb in the sentence?” Ah, that too is simple. Run. The teacher turned back to the chalkboard and underlined the word ” See”.
” Run is not the first verb. The word see is the first action word……………… How can it be? See is really an action word? In the mind of a small child, it’s a thing we do with our eyes not an action word…………..
Over the years, I clearly have come to understand how indeed, it is an action word. From the moment we open our eyes in the morning and begin “seeing”, actions follow. Seeing triggers action. This morning when I opened my eyes and my feet hit the floor, my eyes led me to load the dishwasher, mop the kitchen floor and pay two bills that were laying on my counter. I opened my laptop, sent 9 emails, read 111 more and quickly scanned FB and Twitter to see what I had missed overnight.
Driving to work, my action word based eyes caused me to yield to oncoming traffic, stop at red lights and pass Sunday drivers.
Arriving at work, I began the task of making visual rounds, quickly pointing out the things I saw wrong.
” Why is the TV on this channel?”
“Who left this chart here?
” What exactly is this we are serving for breakfast?
“Why is this resident sitting here and not in the dining room?
” Who dressed Mrs. Smith in red and pink, seriously?”
My action based ability to ” see,” certainly found what was wrong in every setting. From the moment I got up, I was correcting things, fixing things and following my eyes every direction…….Yet, my eyes did not point me to the beauty of the things around me, the positives, the pleasantries……………How could that be? My verb (seeing) led me to a another verb…”judging”.
We all do it. We judge based on what we see. We form opinions based on what we think we know, based on how things appear, based on what we see……..it’s a domino effect.
Regardless of whether we are dealing with friends, family or dementia patients, we need to temper our “seeing” with a noun ( compassion) and a adjective ( understanding).We need to stop seeing so much of what we think we see and take notice of the beauty and the positives that are around us.
Many times what we see, depends on what we are looking for……..If we wish to see the negatives, guess what? We will find them. If we wish to be critical, judgmental and bias based on what we think we see, we will find ourselves miserable, depressed and in a constant state of anger.
Let’s go back to the questions I drilled my staff on this morning.
” Why is the TV on this channel?” Because the staff was taking care of the residents and did not notice the TV or it’s channel.
“Who left this chart here? The doctor. He is in the room with the wife of a resident who is dying; providing her with comfort and reassurance.
” What exactly is this we are serving for breakfast? It’s a new recipe given to us by a resident’s daughter. It was her mother’s favorite dish.
“Why is this resident sitting here and not in the dining room? ” Her son is taking her to breakfast.
” Who dressed Mrs. Smith in red and pink, seriously?” It’s her birthday, and red and pink are her favorite colors. She picked the outfit out herself.”
“Oh”. What else I could I say, but oh? You see, I allowed my eyes to pass judgment before I knew the facts. How many times in life, are we all guilty of jumping to conclusions, based on what we think we know or see? How many times have we been proven wrong after the fact?
” See Spot Run.” Maybe we should find out why Spot is running….maybe he is running to his owner, full of joy, excitement and elation! Maybe he is running from a bear! Maybe is running after his ball…..

What we see, depends on what we are looking for.
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“What we do see depends mainly on what we look for. … In the same field the farmer will notice the crop, the geologists the fossils, botanists the flowers, artists the colouring, sportmen the cover for the game. Though we may all look at the same things, it does not all follow that we should see them.”

― John Lubbock, The Beauties of Nature and the Wonders of the World We Live in
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Sunday Best

Sometimes I understand the confusion of a dementia patient; often declaring to myself that maybe the patient is not the one confused! Think about this for a second, you and I know how things operate today in our high-tech, modern world. We tweet and tweeting has nothing to do with the sounds a bird makes…Tweeting has nothing to do with Tweety bird or Sylvester the cat.
Yet, we as a modern society “tweet”. Back in the 30’s,40’s….heck, even in the 90’s, no one knew what a tweet was.

Not only do we “tweet and retweet, but we friend and unfriend people that we do not know, have never met and truly know nothing about. Back in the olden days, people were friends with only those within horse travel range…..not worlds away. So, trying explain to grandma who is on your Friends List, may not make much sense…………

Last week I promised to send an email to a resident’s son in regards to a concern he had. The conversation went like this:

” Send a what?”
” An email”
” A what mail?
” An email. You know, using the computer. Writing a letter on the computer.”
” Oh, you are writing to him.Why can’t you pick up the phone and call him? Seems to me that would be faster. Get the answer right then instead of waiting on the mailman.”

At that point, I resigned from the conversation, knowing he was right. I could call the son.But who calls anyone anymore? Emails, faxes and telecommunication have made given us the right to not communicate verbally…….yet we tweet out hashtags to strangers and chat incessantly with invisible people……..BUT ee do not want to engage with people within ear-shot…..hmmmm.

It’s not just technology that causes confusion in the elderly. A group of volunteers came in to the visit and fellowship with the residents a few weeks back. (Now, I am not passing judgement on how anyone dresses….if you wear baggy pants that sport your underwear hanging out, that’s none of my business. If you like to wear what we called “tights” back in my day, and you call them pants….well, that’s your business as well………). But here’s the thing……when religious organizations come into a dementia facility, you would think their dress code would reflect a certain degree of “churchy-ness”. You know what I mean…..look like you came from church. Think about the generation we are catering to in the facility……these men and women were modest in dress back in their day, in all aspects of life. Men dressed in suits for church, complete with their underwear tucked in, pants pulled up to their waist and even wore a belt. Women wore clothing that was not revealing and was neither too loose, nor painted on. I digress………

So this church group comes into the facility……preparing to have a “service.”. The young man was trying to get Mr. Harris, who is extremely hard of hearing, to come out to participate.
” Mr. Harris, would you like to come out to the church service we are having today?” The young man asked.
“The what? Supper?”
” No sir, church service. I am leading a church service out in the activity room. Do you want to come?” I could hear the young man’s voice down the hall way .
” Church service? Is is a church service?”
“Yes sir.”
Once that was established. the young man wheeled Mr. Harris into the activity room, placing him right up front. He was in plain view of other church members………..as I passed by, Mr. Harris motioned for me to come over to him.

” Look, see that man over there? He invited me to church. But look, you see them people over there? (He pointed out a few of the women who had very short skirts and well, let’s just say…well nevermind).
“This ain’t no church service, this is like a gentleman’s club. Can you wheel me to the right program?” He asked.

What was I to do? Explain to him that times have changed? (That we dress differently today? Should I explain to him that churches today have men and women in the pulpit who dress the same as the men and women sitting in the pews…….who don’t dress much differently than women working the streets……….. Hmmmmmmm.) How could I help him understand that THIS is the church service…..that the message would probably be really good, and that he would enjoy the music?
I patted him on the shoulder and spoke loudly, Let’s stay for a while. I bet you will recognize the songs……….”

Five minutes later, the music began. It was not the Hymns from the church. It was our praise music of today…. the sound of electric and acoustic guitars filled the activity room. It was indeed worship music, but not music this population would know. Instead of “Amazing Grace”, they sang
” Amazing Love”. Instead of How Great Thou Art, they sang ” How Great Is our God”……(hey, I love these songs myself. If I don’t know the words, I make up my own and sing them loudly in my car…)

Mr. Harris, not realizing the volume of his own voice turned to me and said;
” I told you this ain’t no church. Take me out, take me out, take me out……” I quickly got up and wheeled him back to his room. For the rest of the afternoon, he wheeled himself around the facility, fixated on finding the “church service.” The nurses charted on him stating he had increased confusion….” Did he? Was he really more confused? Or, did we set him up to be confused?

I wonder how advanced the world will be when you and I are “nursing home” ready……will we not understand the technology and jargon speak to us in? Will robots be providing our care? Regardless of what happens, will you make sure that I am dressed in my Sunday Best, wheeled to the activity room for church service….and placed right up front…..I might just know the words to the songs………………