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Journal – May 2017 It is May and the seasons are late this year. It has been a troublesome year for the weather with cherry and apple blossoms arriving about six weeks later than usual. But, late or not, spring has finally arrived. It was heralded a few days ago, by seven or eight incredibly loud claps of thunder, lightning flashes, and an amazing dump of fender-denting hail-stones – some as big as your finger-nail. Perhaps it’s God’s way of saying, “Okay! Winter’s over! I’m done!” Demonstrated by the presence of hail, nature is still back in early April, trying desperately to catch up to May. Even the ferns outside my office window aren’t convinced it is time to come up and have a look around. Some fronds are two feet high, spindly things – struggling on their own. But most are just a lot of fiddle-heads with only their noses peeking out of the ground, wondering what on earth that blanket of hail-stones is all about. They still have a long way to go. |
DONNA'S STORY 
Finally catching some May sunshine, and perhaps a few zzzz's as well.
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The same troublesome times can be said for life at George Derby this past winter. There have been some unexpected losses and some sad times for the residents. It has also been troublesome for the care-aids who clearly live up to their job-title; they really do care.
And, for those of us who are regular visitors, this too, has been a troublesome winter with the loss of friends. We have not chosen to be care-aids but have had the role of caregiver thrust upon us; a role we didn’t ask or train for, and a role that hasn’t ended just because our loved-ones are now in the hands of professional caregivers. The only reason Donna is in a care-home, even one as comfortable as George Derby, is because the challenge of offering the level of care she needs today is well beyond my capability to provide.
But, in parallel with nature, now that May is here, the sun has finally begun to shine again.
At George Derby, May begins with the arrival of a troupe of dancers who come to entertain all the residents. This troupe comes from the Cori Caulfield School of Dance, the school where Donna taught from 1993-1999. Donna is ecstatic. She loves every minute; whispers fabulous praise to me after every dance number. And Cori honours Donna when she includes a dance that Donna choreographed in 1993 – those twenty-four years ago. At the end, she and Cori have a big hug; Donna’s face full of joy. I’m not entirely sure that Donna remembers her years with Cori but I believe a lot of old memories are stirred, even if just fleeting memories.
Moments like these are one of the main reasons I enjoy my frequent visits with Donna. She is teaching me what a smile means. She has a skill in smiling that I have lost over many years of training myself to contain my emotions. When Donna smiles at me, and others, she commits herself totally. Her smile is not simply a scrinch of face muscles that pull her lips into a grin. Donna’s smile does not come from a command in her brain telling her to put on her ‘smiley-face’. Donna’s smile begins deep; comes all the way from her heart. Her eyes sparkle. Little wrinkles form beside her eyes. Her arms reach out to you. Walking towards you, her mouth opens as she begins to form words of greeting.
Donna’s smile is a full, hands-on, “Hello!” It doesn’t matter who you are. She is committing her friendship to you. It is exactly like a very small child who has not yet learned to quell or manage their emotions. They commit, body and soul. So does Donna. And, like a small child, it is very enticing. I have to learn that skill.
Since Donna’s arrival at George Derby, she has practised her smiling skills on everyone she meets. So she is known all over G.D., not just in her Special Care Unit. Everywhere we visit, she is greeted by people who know her name and call out to her. She has the skill to bring smiles to the faces of other residents. It all works to help her feel at home.
These super-friendly gestures can also have a less than comfortable side effect. As I have mentioned previously, Donna’s demonstration of affection sometimes has a confusing effect on male co-residents. Some, like Doug and Fred, react with decorum seeing the relationship as friendly. To others, the reactions are less than gentlemanly. Some make their advances while I am right next to her – winking and leering at Donna, with lecherous hands beginning to grope – behaving very badly.
In a recent moment of lucidity, Donna tells me she is a concerned about the men’s attentions; does not like some of their advances. I talk to Gerry and some of the others. The care-aids are all aware of the problems Donna faces and step in if things seem to be moving in an uncomfortable direction. But, in truth, these events are often brought on by Donna’s advances, her acceptance and desire for attention. At another time I ask her if she likes the men. She replies strongly, “Yes, I do!”
Of course there is no discipline that can be applied to those who would be regarded as social miscreants in our society. Nor is there any guidance that can be taught to Donna to steer her away from what the world, in general, considers inappropriate displays of affection. To her, these are simply displays of friendship, are not inappropriate, and reflect a true affection she has for others.
The staff feel that Donna has a very high need for attention – needs they cannot meet with the care provisioning level that is available in any of today’s care centres, George Derby included. One suggestion is for me to contract a professional ‘Companion’ to visit with Donna and just be her friend for those times when I cannot be there. I have hired Karen, who is now working with Donna, four visits each week. I have known Karen for the companionship she has been offering others at G.D. and she comes with high recommendations. I look forward to working with her over the months ahead.
I have another reason for employing Karen as well. Over the months since Christmas I have been increasing the number of visits to Donna and increasing the length of time of each visit. I have typically been timing my visits for early afternoon, meaning I must leave home around noon and not get home until four or five. Visits like this consume a full day – five, or more, days per week. I am finding I have less and less time for doing other things. I need to plan my visits to Donna a little more effectively, and Karen can provide me with that opportunity.
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I have been negligent through the journals of the last few months. I have not mentioned a close bond that is building between Donna and Sue; a bond that includes Sue’s friend, Gary, and myself. The four of us can often be found enjoying each other’s company in various places around George Derby – nibbling a tub of ice-cream on “Main Street”, or sitting in the garden full of rhododendrons. We can always be found at the same table in the “Town Hall” on Pub-Night, Wednesdays, as well as Saturdays.
Gary and I have a lot in common. He has been Sue’s caregiver for some years, and continues in that role. He enjoys at least as many visits to Sue as I enjoy with Donna. And, like me with Donna, Gary is also emotionally affected by the slow deterioration of Sue. It gets more and more difficult each day to watch their regression and await even the smallest flicker of the impossibility of improvement.
Over the past year or so, I have come to know other caregivers who visit their loved-ones on an almost daily basis. We all feel that the frequency of our visits is what keeps memories and hopes alive. I am not the only one who receives lavish amounts of love from their husband, wife, father, mother, etc. All the residents just wait for the moment when a visitor arrives to sit and talk with them, just to notice them and offer them some attention.
One specific thing has changed with Donna this month, or, at least, grown to be a daily occurrence. At the beginning of our visits, Donna stops whatever she is doing to greet me in the ways I have described before. We walk the halls, and talk a lot. She always has something to tell me and it always includes many expressions of “I love you!”
But something else also occurs. We might be anywhere: alone and talking together, nibbling some ice-cream with Sue and Gary, smelling the flowers in the garden, or listening to the songs in the “Town Hall.” Donna will suddenly burst into tears. She is frightened! She grasps me tightly and asks, “Can I come home with you?” What am I to say?
These are emotionally charged events that don’t last long, but I can see she is genuinely scared. Once, I was able to find out more about those feelings, and I believe she is asking me if I can take her home – but not to our home. I am quite certain her vision is of her home with her Mom, Dad, and brother, Bruce, those many years ago.
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And now to close for the month of May, I must report that the ferns outside my office window have all said, “Yes! I will come up again.” The weather has warmed and we have enjoyed a few days with the temperature in the high twenties. It’s nearly time for us all to start complaining how hot it is.
And, for those of us who are regular visitors, this too, has been a troublesome winter with the loss of friends. We have not chosen to be care-aids but have had the role of caregiver thrust upon us; a role we didn’t ask or train for, and a role that hasn’t ended just because our loved-ones are now in the hands of professional caregivers. The only reason Donna is in a care-home, even one as comfortable as George Derby, is because the challenge of offering the level of care she needs today is well beyond my capability to provide.
But, in parallel with nature, now that May is here, the sun has finally begun to shine again.
At George Derby, May begins with the arrival of a troupe of dancers who come to entertain all the residents. This troupe comes from the Cori Caulfield School of Dance, the school where Donna taught from 1993-1999. Donna is ecstatic. She loves every minute; whispers fabulous praise to me after every dance number. And Cori honours Donna when she includes a dance that Donna choreographed in 1993 – those twenty-four years ago. At the end, she and Cori have a big hug; Donna’s face full of joy. I’m not entirely sure that Donna remembers her years with Cori but I believe a lot of old memories are stirred, even if just fleeting memories.
Moments like these are one of the main reasons I enjoy my frequent visits with Donna. She is teaching me what a smile means. She has a skill in smiling that I have lost over many years of training myself to contain my emotions. When Donna smiles at me, and others, she commits herself totally. Her smile is not simply a scrinch of face muscles that pull her lips into a grin. Donna’s smile does not come from a command in her brain telling her to put on her ‘smiley-face’. Donna’s smile begins deep; comes all the way from her heart. Her eyes sparkle. Little wrinkles form beside her eyes. Her arms reach out to you. Walking towards you, her mouth opens as she begins to form words of greeting.
Donna’s smile is a full, hands-on, “Hello!” It doesn’t matter who you are. She is committing her friendship to you. It is exactly like a very small child who has not yet learned to quell or manage their emotions. They commit, body and soul. So does Donna. And, like a small child, it is very enticing. I have to learn that skill.
Since Donna’s arrival at George Derby, she has practised her smiling skills on everyone she meets. So she is known all over G.D., not just in her Special Care Unit. Everywhere we visit, she is greeted by people who know her name and call out to her. She has the skill to bring smiles to the faces of other residents. It all works to help her feel at home.
These super-friendly gestures can also have a less than comfortable side effect. As I have mentioned previously, Donna’s demonstration of affection sometimes has a confusing effect on male co-residents. Some, like Doug and Fred, react with decorum seeing the relationship as friendly. To others, the reactions are less than gentlemanly. Some make their advances while I am right next to her – winking and leering at Donna, with lecherous hands beginning to grope – behaving very badly.
In a recent moment of lucidity, Donna tells me she is a concerned about the men’s attentions; does not like some of their advances. I talk to Gerry and some of the others. The care-aids are all aware of the problems Donna faces and step in if things seem to be moving in an uncomfortable direction. But, in truth, these events are often brought on by Donna’s advances, her acceptance and desire for attention. At another time I ask her if she likes the men. She replies strongly, “Yes, I do!”
Of course there is no discipline that can be applied to those who would be regarded as social miscreants in our society. Nor is there any guidance that can be taught to Donna to steer her away from what the world, in general, considers inappropriate displays of affection. To her, these are simply displays of friendship, are not inappropriate, and reflect a true affection she has for others.
The staff feel that Donna has a very high need for attention – needs they cannot meet with the care provisioning level that is available in any of today’s care centres, George Derby included. One suggestion is for me to contract a professional ‘Companion’ to visit with Donna and just be her friend for those times when I cannot be there. I have hired Karen, who is now working with Donna, four visits each week. I have known Karen for the companionship she has been offering others at G.D. and she comes with high recommendations. I look forward to working with her over the months ahead.
I have another reason for employing Karen as well. Over the months since Christmas I have been increasing the number of visits to Donna and increasing the length of time of each visit. I have typically been timing my visits for early afternoon, meaning I must leave home around noon and not get home until four or five. Visits like this consume a full day – five, or more, days per week. I am finding I have less and less time for doing other things. I need to plan my visits to Donna a little more effectively, and Karen can provide me with that opportunity.
----
I have been negligent through the journals of the last few months. I have not mentioned a close bond that is building between Donna and Sue; a bond that includes Sue’s friend, Gary, and myself. The four of us can often be found enjoying each other’s company in various places around George Derby – nibbling a tub of ice-cream on “Main Street”, or sitting in the garden full of rhododendrons. We can always be found at the same table in the “Town Hall” on Pub-Night, Wednesdays, as well as Saturdays.
Gary and I have a lot in common. He has been Sue’s caregiver for some years, and continues in that role. He enjoys at least as many visits to Sue as I enjoy with Donna. And, like me with Donna, Gary is also emotionally affected by the slow deterioration of Sue. It gets more and more difficult each day to watch their regression and await even the smallest flicker of the impossibility of improvement.
Over the past year or so, I have come to know other caregivers who visit their loved-ones on an almost daily basis. We all feel that the frequency of our visits is what keeps memories and hopes alive. I am not the only one who receives lavish amounts of love from their husband, wife, father, mother, etc. All the residents just wait for the moment when a visitor arrives to sit and talk with them, just to notice them and offer them some attention.
One specific thing has changed with Donna this month, or, at least, grown to be a daily occurrence. At the beginning of our visits, Donna stops whatever she is doing to greet me in the ways I have described before. We walk the halls, and talk a lot. She always has something to tell me and it always includes many expressions of “I love you!”
But something else also occurs. We might be anywhere: alone and talking together, nibbling some ice-cream with Sue and Gary, smelling the flowers in the garden, or listening to the songs in the “Town Hall.” Donna will suddenly burst into tears. She is frightened! She grasps me tightly and asks, “Can I come home with you?” What am I to say?
These are emotionally charged events that don’t last long, but I can see she is genuinely scared. Once, I was able to find out more about those feelings, and I believe she is asking me if I can take her home – but not to our home. I am quite certain her vision is of her home with her Mom, Dad, and brother, Bruce, those many years ago.
----
And now to close for the month of May, I must report that the ferns outside my office window have all said, “Yes! I will come up again.” The weather has warmed and we have enjoyed a few days with the temperature in the high twenties. It’s nearly time for us all to start complaining how hot it is.
