I am aware that the strangest things make me chuckle. You know, things that when repeated, no one seems to find it as cute as I did. I think this may be one of those times.
Last week my line of work took me to a nearby Alzheimer's facility. I love that population. Not sure why. But my coworker, Lisa, and I were going to a section that one needed a code to enter. Lisa entered the code, and just as I was going to open the door, I noticed a resident coming toward us, checking doors, looking for a way out. She got to us just as we were attempting to enter. The resident tried to push past me to escape, but I attempted to redirect by putting my hand up in front of her and moving forward. She wasn't going to be deterred, so she ended up pushing against my hand. The door eventually closed so she couldn't escape. But not before she said, without looking at me, "Keep your hands by yourself!"
For my job, I get to visit vulnerable adults who may have been abused, neglected, or exploited. Sometimes these cases are closed pretty quickly because there's nothing to them, the adult is fine with the conditions, or a myriad of other reasons. But one thing that's the same in each case, I have to see the alleged victim face to face, by law.
One case, I had a difficult time seeing the woman. I knew I was being dodged, but couldn't figure out how to get in the door. Finally, I left my business card on her door and that very afternoon, she called me. I explained that I needed to see her and she said she was fine. I explained again I needed to see her face, and she said, "I know someone thinks my family member is abusing me, but they're not." I said I would like the opportunity to discuss that in person and she said, "Fine. Can you wait until the bruises heal?"
I paused, not sure what to make of such a thing, and this was long enough for her to laugh and say, "I'm kidding!"
I work with some funny people. I share on office with one of them. Most people have their own office, and there's even a single office open. But we just like our fun little place so much, we're staying in our combined space. Well, that's why I'm staying. Maybe she is too nice to say she wants her own space ... Regardless, Lisa has a funny tendency. It's a similar tendency to Chel's. Simple words or phrases make them sing a song. Part of why this is fun for them is that it bugs me. In a fun kind of way.
One very funny song Lisa sings is "Holiday". It's the same one Madonna sang years ago, but it's the version from "The Wedding Singer" with Adam Sandler. What's funny about this is that there is a suburb nearby with the name that sounds just like Holiday. Whenever anyone at work mentions this suburb, someone calls from there, or we get a new case in Holiday, Lisa sings the "Wedding Singer" version of "Holiday".
One day she said she had a visit and I asked where it was. She asked, "Are you sure you want to know?" Forgetting her cute little habit, I said "Yes." This is what I got in reply.
I get to interview people several times a week in my job. One of my latest ones is now one of my favorites. The elderly gentleman has dementia, and it was readily evident, especially when I asked how old he was and he said he was 342, and really believed it.
The best part may be one of those you had to be there for. I said, "When's your birthday?" He quickly looked at me with a huge smile and said, "Happy birthday!"
Remember that scene from the movie "Home Alone" where the kid plays movie scenes to scare the thieves away? I revisited that scene while working. The other day a coworker (Linda) and I went to visit a client in his home.
We arrived at the home and stood on the front porch. Through the window, we could hear that he was watching an old Western movie. I could hear the dramatic music, and while Linda was trying to get her file open to remember the client's name, we hear from the movie, "You after the money or me?"
Linda and I looked at each other and chuckled. I could see him looking through his blinds at me, so I said to Linda, still fiddling with the file, "He sees us, so I'm going to at least knock."
Right after I knocked, the movie said, "Looks like we've got company!"
At least we were both smiling when the client opened the door!
I am doing a mental health internship at the state prison and am doing a lot of my work in the inpatient program for female inmates. I actually really enjoy it. I get to do individual therapy with them and run a therapy group with a regular caseload of 8 women.
Not surprisingly, not a lot of humor finds its way into my work day. The other day, however, I couldn't help but laugh out loud. We were discussing resistance in group and they were sharing how they resist changing their lives. One woman stated she avoids working so she can stay in a pity mode. This got us on the subject of jobs for a brief moment. This is the conversation that followed:
Brenda to Linda: Have you ever worked at a pharmacy?
Linda, as if everyone does it: No, but I have robbed a pharmacy ...
Maybe I am just finally tainted, but that totally cracked me up.
No, probably not what you think. Unless you consider being attacked by a desk what you had in mind.
Chelle and her fellow intern were moving offices today. In the name of being efficient they decided to move the desks by themselves. Chelle's finger got in the way - and got crushed between two desks.
The Dr. called it a tuft fracture. Chelle called it the most painful thing she has ever experienced.
The other night I was working with a fairly new girl we'll call Maris. She got a phone call from a contract for which we answer after hours lines. The man who called demanded Maris make him an appointment. She calmly explained we can't do that since we are in a different location, the phones have been transferred to us, and we don't have the schedule books. He was livid. Unfortunately, the phones were so busy, she had to put him on hold.
I was done with my calls before she was, so I picked him up. I think the time on hold made him even more irate. He demanded to know what good we were in an emergency. I assured him making an appt is not an emergency. He went on to yell about my uselessness. I ended the call. Moments later, Maris got a call from the same guy. He let her know that he had informed a third party of our lack of professionalism and hung up. She turned to me and relayed the message, joking that he was such a whiner, the third party was probably his mommy.
About half an hour passed when Maris got yet another call from the contract. Her eyes went wide as she listened, she glanced over at me, and mouthed the words, "Third party." My interest was piqued. She finished the call and explained the scheduling process to Third Party. When she hung up, she looked at me and burst out laughing.
While I was still doing my practicum at the long term skilled nursing facility (a fancy way of saying "nursing home"), I was having a conversation with a patient in his 40's. He'd been shot in the head years previous and it left him physically unable to completely care for himself. It also left his speech difficult. He could speak, but only a few words at a time.
He had just had a haircut that day. He had shoulder length hair, even still, but we were discussing his new cut. I said, "It looks nice and trimmed. Do you like it?"
"No," he said.
I said, "Why not?"
He just shook his head at me.
"Do you wish you had more off of it?" I asked.
"No," he said. "More on."
With that, the other Gerontologist who was standing nearby swung her head toward us and said, "I could have sworn he just called you a moron!"
First, apologies for being somewhat absent here. I took a trip to South Dakota to visit my mom. She's back in the ICU - not because of my visit. It was a good visit. I might post some of the pics of the scenery when I get a chance.
But I have a work story to share. I answer calls sometimes for the hospital our little office is set in. The hospital is a drug and alcohol treatment center and acute psychiatric. I got a call one afternoon from a lady saying she needed an appt for detox. They need to meet with an intake worker before they can come in. I checked the book.
I came back to the phone and said, "I am sorry, the next available appointment is in 4 days."
She said, "That's okay. I can stay drunk that long."
Maybe I'm tainted, but that struck me as quite funny.
Today was free fishing day in Utah. That means lots of people were out fishing today, and I got to help about 85 kids do just that. Fishing was good. Which means only, well, a few things.
1) Kids were having a great time, and some kids caught their first fish today! 2) There were a lot of fish to clean, which I happily got to help with. 3) Fish smell does not come off hands very easily.
So I spent the whole of the morning and afternoon cutting, pulling out fish guts, and covering my hands in fish smell - washing my hands to no avail - and doing it again, and again, and again. Kids loved it! What is it about blood and guts that gets kids all excited? I guess maybe the same things that gets them excited about animal scat.
Kids are fun. And they don't care if they smell like fish guts.
Here's a quick story from the nursing home. I greeted a resident one morning and they responded in a way I didn't expect, therefore I didn't understand what they said.
"What'd you say?" I asked.
They looked at me like I was crazy and repeated themselves. "Ooopsie doopsie do!"
Trauma is not what I hope to cause when I talk to people about nature. But it seems I did just that this past weekend.
A co-worker and I were talking to a group of people about birds of prey. We actually had a live hawk with us that day, so everyone got the chance to see something very cool and not often seen this close.
It was my job to talk about the different adaptations of birds of prey specifically, and then just some adaptations of birds in general. About half way into the discussion, the people are pretty excited about birds and how amazing they are.
So at this point, I begin talking about bird bones and how they are very light yet strong. I pass around the breast bone of a turkey so people can get a good look at it, and feel how light it is. We talk about how a bird's bones are hollow, but not empty. They are full of criss-crossing fibers which is what makes them strong. Then I made the fateful suggestion.
"The next time you have some chicken, break one of the bones in half and look inside. You'll see that they are not empty, but full of air space." One little boy on the front row, about 7 years old, asks me, "Do what?" So I repeat myself.
"The next time you eat some chicken, like from Kentucky Fried Chicken, snap one of the bones, so you can look inside of it and see what a bird's bone looks like inside."
He just looks at me a little confused. So I clariy, "You know that chickens are birds, right?"
His look of confusion is suddenly mingled with a touch of horror. I guess he didn't know that...
His mom pipes up from behind him, "We'll have a little discussion about that later."
A few days ago I was visiting with a group of 5 year olds. We were about to embark on a "Nature Exploration" so I wanted to just chit-chat a bit about what nature was. So I asked them, "Can anyone tell me what nature is?"
Blank. No response.
Um..now what? "No body knows what nature is?"
One mom wispers to her daughter "trees" - so she says it.
"Great!" I say, sure the others will catch on with that little hint.
"Be safe" comes another answer. "No pushing" pipes up another (now they are on a roll, but apparently its the wrong one) - "No hitting" says another, "Stay together" shouts yet another.
Well... at least they know how to be nice and stay safe while out in nature.
As I've mentioned before, one of the lines I answer at work is a drug and alcohol referral line. Not only do I refer people to treatment centers in their area, I also answer basic questions about drugs and alcohol. One of the most frequent ones I get have to do with "Did I do too much?" which sometimes boil down to "Am I going to die now?" I just hope they learn their lessons ...
But I got one that was kind of fun for me. The guy called, talked clearly but quickly. "I've had a lot to drink. I wonder if you can tell me if I'm in trouble."
"What kind of trouble do you mean?" I asked for clarification.
"Well, like should I go to an emergency room?" he asked.
"What symptoms are you having that are concerning you?" I asked for more clarification.
"None really ... I just think I had a lot to drink," he replied.
"Well, you are talking fine. Have you peed?" I asked.
"Yeah, a few times," he answered.
"Do you feel like vomiting?" I asked.
"No, not really," he said.
"Are you sweating more than you normally do?" I asked further.
"Nope," he said.
"Ok, then," I went on. "You are talking fine, you've peed, you're not sick, you aren't sweating ... I think you're going to be just fine."
"Wow! You're amazing!" he said with great joy. ::dial tone::
I was getting to know a resident at the nursing facility where I'm doing my practicum. I love that part of my "job". This resident is quite cute. She's even asked me out on a date - likely not realizng I'm a woman. ??
This time we were talking about her spending some of her growing up years in South Dakota. I'm pretty familiar with South Dakota, so I asked what town. She mentioned one where there is actually some pretty fun water spots. So I asked if she liked to swim there.
"Oh yes!" she replied.
"How often did you get to do that?" I asked.
"Every day, pert near," was her reply.
Not only did I love her response and how cultural it was, but I loved my first thought: "I wonder how to spell 'pert near' for my blog?"
I realize dementia is a devastating disease. I never mean to make light of that fact. Yet, I love working with those with dementia. They make me laugh, make me think, make me cry. I just love them and have no expectations of them ... those would have to change daily, as the sufferers do. I see them as very real, telling exactly what's on their minds. I love that.
I get to deal with dementia patients at my practicum. I used to work with them as a CNA for years, so it's fun to work with them as a Social Services Representative. One recent experience involved a woman recently admitted to the facility. She was confused about where she was. She wondered, out loud to me, why we didn't have a bracelet for her like they did at the hospital. I looked around the facility and found nothing even close to it. But I wanted her to realize where she was whenever she wanted to. I found a business card with the facility name on it and taped it to her "lap buddy" on her wheelchair. I left to do other business. At lunch time, I went to check on her and see how she liked her reminder. She had taken it off her lap buddy and was calmly using it as a toothpick. I loved it.
Another day I was down on the psych unit of the facility and one of the women was standing in her doorway, watching people walk by. The gerontologist and I stopped to say hello to her.
Gerontologist: Hi, Anne. How are you today? Anne: (staring at me) Where'd you get that shirt? Me: I don't recall. I've had it for quite some time. Gerontologist: Yeah, you can see her coming down the hall, can't you? Anne: (continued staring at my shirt) Gerontologist: It's kind of psychadelic, isn't it? Anne: (with great disgust) That's one word for it.
Isn't that awesome? I wondered how many other people hated my shirt but would never tell me. I much prefer the honesty of those without inhibition.
One of our lines at work is a mental health facility after hours. We often get calls from people wanting to schedule an appointment. Since we are not even in the same state, we have to tell people we don't have their schedule books and they'll have to call back during business hours. Seems common sense to me ... when I call my doctor and get the after hours, I am not surprised when they can't answer my question or schedule an appointment. Well, some people are quite angry that we can't do scheduling. One said it perfectly the other day.
"Well, what good are you!?"
It must have been a rhetorical question, since they hung up before I could answer ...
Here's a short work story. Maybe one of those you have to have been there for ... Part of my job is to take calls from two certain Railroad company police dispatchers after there's been an accident with a train. We take the info and follow a long complicated procedure, boiling down to making sure the crew is emotionally okay after such an event. So the police call me to tell me all the details and give me the crew's names. These names are in the form of first initial and last name. For example:
R. Reagan G. Ford
Sometimes they have such minimal information, they tell me they have no crew names. I just leave that blank on my form. One night, though, one dispatcher thought he was quite funny. Instead of telling me he had no crew info, he gave me the following:
