Home Sweet Home?

Last night, we met for training at a local residential care facility or, as they are commonly known, a nursing home. I walked in trepidatiously, fearful that lining the halls would be elderly people slumped in wheelchairs with vacant looks in their eyes and drool streaming from their mouths. Instead, a group of residents sat around dining room tables enjoying their dinner with their neighbors. As I turned down the hall to the training room, a long corridor of open doors greeted me. Passing each room, my eyes were drawn into their interiors. TV's were blaring in most with a resident propped up in bed eating alone with the company of the evening news or The Simpsons. Some rooms were decorated with personal items- framed photos, books, knick knacks- while others were stark. Many residents were three to a room, with the curtains drawn between them for a semblance of privacy. I caught one woman's eye as she sat in her wheelchair by her bed. I smiled and she returned it. The loneliness and vulnerability of the residents hung in the air as the constant clattering and beeping attempted to beat it back.

I felt badly thinking "I don't want to be one of these people." But it was how I felt. I am a private person, for all my ramblings here. I don't like people in my personal space. I never lived in the dorms- a big reason being that I didn't want to be paired up with someone I might not like and have to live in the same room with them. What if she liked Disney and incessantly chattered? Oh god! I quipped, probably in bad taste, to a couple of other volunteers that if they put me in a room with two others AND stuck me in the middle bed I would basically hurry up and die to get the hell out of there. I am mostly serious though. I don't "do" room sharing about as much as I don't "do" crowded festivals (think: Burning Man) or fruit for dessert. Some things I will not budge on.

I admit that I have judgments about residential care facilities. There is so much bad press about how the residents are mistreated, neglected, and abused. I couldn't help but bring those preconceived notions into the facility. I know that many of the people in their care have nowhere else to go and actually prefer to be in a safe environment where they can get medical care without being in a hospital or that they don't want to be a burden to their families. It is their home. That is just so depressing to me.

*Mom, I promise you won't ever be in one of those. Even if we fight, you will have a home...though I think you'd enjoy living with Dokey much better than with me. I'll keep working on my bedside manner. ;)

Part of our training last night was on how to feed a patient. When we got back from break there were small individual containers of apple sauce waiting for us on our seats. I don't "do" apple sauce people. I refuse to eat it. Even for the sake of training, I couldn't buck up. I have a strong aversion to apple juice and apple sauce. Let's chalk it up to a childhood thing. So my partner fed me water. As I sat there, eyes closed, waiting for the spoon, I felt so needy and vulnerable. It really helped to put me in their shoes, even for just a little bit. And I was very thankful I wasn't being force-fed apple sauce. Ick.

Of course, when it came time for me to practice on my partner, we broke out into a mad fit of the giggles. I fed her some of the apple sauce and said, "Does it taste good?" right as her face contorted into a cringe of disdain. The organic apple sauce was pretty tart (or as she put it, "The worst tasting apple sauce she has ever tasted.") Needless to say, we used empty spoons from then on. For some reason we weren't given a straw for the water so we lost it again when I tried to tip the cup to give her water. I kept not giving her anything but I didn't realize it and would say, "Did you get enough?" to which she would start laughing. Note to self: Find a straw. It will be easier.

I left the facility wondering how I will handle it if I get placed with a patient in a nursing home. Will I be filled with dread and apprehension each time I visit? Will their neediness and sorrow overwhelm me? This work is hard. So many of us in the training are experiencing profound shifts in our thinking. Sure, we can laugh as we try to move one another from bed to commode or wheelchair to walker or attempt to feed each other apple sauce but we know that all the little gestures from feeding to sitting by a bedside to holding a person's hand can have a huge impact on the patient. And us. This training, and I anticipate, the work, will forever change me for the better. Every day, my heart is so full. Every day, I look at life a little bit different. What is important verses what is just distracting chaos or drama becomes clearer and clearer. This is a ripe time and I am moving deeper into who I am. And it feels fantastic.