10 Ways to Shift the Direction of Your Life, Part One

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If you know me personally or have read all my posts, you'll know that I am a "seeker."  A seeker of my own personal truth.

seek·er (skr)

n.

1. One that seeks: a seeker of the truth.

 

 

The past 18 months have been a grand search and experience of stretching beyond the life I knew, physically, emotionally, spiritually. It's exciting to get out of a comfort zone and push into the unknown.

 

 

Here is some of what I have learned and continue to learn...(part one)

Expand your mind and spirit.

Learn something new every day. Explore one new thing about the area in which you live every week. Open your mind to the simple and sometimes unintended teachings of others. See everyone as inter-connected.

Check out Mind Map Art by Paul Foreman

Simplify.

Identify what is "holding you down." Many times, it's "stuff." Get rid of all the extra stuff you're holding onto....closets full of old clothes and shoes you don't wear, a garage full of crap you haven't used, weight that slows down your body or negative thoughts that prevent you from living a better life.

See all that blocked creative energy!!

Focus on Positivity.

I run into people alot who have only negative things to say. They complain about their work, their spouses or children, where they live, their weight, anything you can image.

WOW.

That wears me out.

When I start to complain, it wears me out! Did you realize if you focus on positive things, you don't feel so TIRED. I really need to work on this one this week!

Try it?

See the best in everyone.

The princess didn't know there was a prince underneath....

You never know what's under all those warts...

when I am working with patients who stretch my patience (and lately there have been a few new challenges!), I have to remind myself to find one special thing about them that humanizes them, makes them likeable and creates a connection.

Often, it creates a shift in my own vision and enables me to connect and understand. Not always easy, I know!


Forgive.

I wrote a blog last fall on forgiveness. Click here to read it. We can agree that it's one of the most difficult challenges of our lives. What I have found, though, is that there is a great weight that is lifted when we forgive the other. We are able to move on, whether or not we keep that person in our lives, and have a clear slate. If we fail to forgive, we continue to be bound to another through a negative event.

I choose to forgive every day. Until I genuinely feel it in my heart.

Part Two to follow....

I'm Back!

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I'm back! I'm actually almost back...sitting in Denver International Airport waiting on my delayed flight and happy to be back on the internet after almost a week "away."

I've just spent the past five days purchasing a cottage near my parents and demolishing the inside of it in preparation for some major renovations. It's always great to have a project in the pipeline!

The week has not been without excitement, from the real estate closing to the gathering of all seven brothers and sisters with our parents, to visits with those I love (you know who you are, you special people!), and an unexpected incident in Kansas City last night....

Oh, oh....

Before I tell you what happened,  I'll set the scene at the rental car company last weekend when we picked up the car. We always pay extra to list both of us as drivers.

 "Do we need the extra insurance?"

She has picked up the car early to save us time, and the car company is going to charge an extra $125 for insurance since she doesn't have any here. (She lives overseas, so her insurance is moot here.) If I had picked up the car, it would be no problem. My insurance covers me. We end up opting out of the insurance, as we plan for me to pay for the car.

So....it's on my mind that I really need to check all the details before we rent a car together again. Do I do it this week?

No.

I drop Elle off at the airport yesterday afternoon and begin a series of tag team visits with dear friends in the City. As I drive, I am thinking, this little VW has some "get up and go!"

It's getting dark and is at the beginning of rush hour when I exit one major interstate to enter another on a wide cloverleaf.

The traffic slows down.
I slow down.
The high school kid behind me does not slow down.

He later tells the Missouri Highway Patrol that he was reaching down to pick up his cell phone off the floor, looked up and smashed right into me.

I could not believe it!!

The first think I thought about was my twin and our conversation about insurance.

She is not going to believe this!!

I would have called her when I got off the phone with 911, but by that time, she was somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean.

I'll keep this abbreviated. The kid was at fault. The insurance company is taking care of the damaged bumper with the rental car company. My back is sore and tight but not acutely injured to require emergent care, so I'm going to get it checked out when I get back home to northern Cal.

The lesson today is get those insurance questions answered before  you rent the car with multiple drivers!


Flight is boarding....write more later....Tre

Feistiness

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Clarence is 101 and as feisty as ever.

The "home" threw him a huge birthday party on his 100th birthday. You should see pictures of the 100 candles on his cake. It looks like a bonfire! There's a large collage of that event on the wall in the hallway.

Clarence doesn't let much stop him. He led an amazing life of working in national parks all over the West. The black and white framed photographs of his adventures and his lively family hanging over this walls leave me standing there in awe.

I am enamored by the personal history of each person with whom I work!

There is an tall, elegant, outdoorsy woman adorning on Clarence's wall. She reminds me of Amelia Earhart...

That kind of amazing gal.

I ask Clarence about her as I ice his ankle. He has fallen on his way to the bathroom at 2 in the morning.

"What's her name?"

"Edith!"

I had seen the name "Ede" written beneath some of the photos.

"What do you call her?"

"You come here!"

I stop for a bit. I have to admit, I am a bit slow to certain types of humor. Then, I, and everyone else in the gym, start to laugh.

"Where did you meet her?"

"Behind the barn."

"Behind the barn??  How old were you?"

"14"

No more questions asked! Eighty seven long years ago a feisty young man met up with a feisty young woman, and they shared 80 amazing years together. I don't know about you, but I think that is close to the record of a long term relationship!

Clarence and I go on to discuss other topics, mainly, something that had been on my mind since Sunday. I had gone to the local outrigger canoe place to look into renting a canoe to paddle up the local river estuary which is accomplished according to the tides calendar. (Something foreign to this land-locked girl from Missouri).

The owner of the company and I started a long-winded discussion. It meandered into an hour during which I learned many great things about the area! 

When he learned that I work with seniors, he shared that he was in the process of completing work on a solar powered outrigger that would carry 9 people, some of whom would not have to power the canoe....he suggested that if I knew of any seniors interested in traveling up the river estuary on a nature tour, he would love the opportunity to market a trip to older people.

The first person I thought about was Clarence. He had hiked, fished and worked all over the land and water.

I mention this to Clarence. Imagine a light bulb when the switch is flipped on.

"Tell him yes," Clarence says.

This man, who yesterday was non-compliant with non-weight bearing orders on his right foot is following the plan of care! He wants to get that ankle healed and walk the dozen + steps it takes to get to the dock.

Clarence can't go out in nature like he once did, so we will bring it to him. He can be surrounded by all the things he has loved...water, trees, wildlife and bright sky. From the seat of a canoe he doesn't have to paddle.

One of my best friends from my last assignment is an 89 year old physical therapist named Dorrys. We met every Wednesday night for dinner when her partner died, and she told me what motivated her as a therapist.

"If I can make just one dream come true, I've done my job. Find out what their dream is, Tre. Make it happen."

Okay, Clarence....let's return you to the woods and the water!

The Yellow Shirt Story

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My  mom is not a fan of "forwards" at all! We actually have a joke about it. Imagine my surprise when I wake up this morning (2 hours behind her time zone) and find a "forward" from her in my email inbox!

I immediately understood why she sent it. It is a keeper. What warmed my heart is that she added:

"Read it because it is so...like us."

What I know about it is that it was a lotus totus from the Anthony Robbins organization. He is a famous life coach who's been motivating people for years. I don't know the name of this writing's author; if anyone knows, please let me know so I can give credit where credit is due!

Here goes this heartwarming story:

The yellow shirt had long sleeves, four extra-large pockets trimmed in black thread and snaps up the front. It was faded from years of wear, but still in decent shape. I found it in 1963 when I was home from college on Christmas break, rummaging through bags of clothes Mom intended to give away…

'You're not taking that old thing, are you?' Mom said when she saw me packing the yellow shirt…'I wore that when I was pregnant with your brother in 1954!

It's just the thing to wear over my clothes during art class, Mom. Thanks!' I slipped it into my suitcase before she could object. The yellow shirt became a part of my college wardrobe. I loved it.

After graduation, I wore the shirt the day I moved into my new apartment and on Saturday mornings when I cleaned.

The next year, I married. When I became pregnant, I wore the yellow shirt during big-belly days. I missed Mom and the rest of my family, since we were in Colorado and they were in Illinois... But that shirt helped. I smiled, remembering that Mother had worn it when she was pregnant, 25 years earlier.

That Christmas, mindful of the warm feelings the shirt had given me, I patched one elbow, wrapped it in holiday paper and sent it to Mom. When Mom wrote to thank me for her 'real' gifts, she said the yellow shirt was lovely. She never mentioned it again...

The next year, my husband, daughter and I stopped at Mom and Dad's to pick up some furniture. Days later, when we uncrated the kitchen table, I noticed something yellow taped to its bottom. The shirt! And so the pattern was set.

On our next visit home, I secretly placed the shirt under Mom and Dad's mattress. I don't know how long it took for her to find it, but almost two years passed before I discovered it under the base of our living-room floor lamp. The yellow shirt was just what I needed now while refinishing furniture. The walnut stains added character.

 In 1975 my husband and I divorced. With my three children, I prepared to move back to Illinois. As I packed, a deep depression overtook me. I wondered if I could make it on my own. I wondered if I would find a job. I paged through the Bible, looking for comfort. In Ephesians, I read, 'So use every piece of God's armor to resist the enemy whenever he attacks, and when it is all over, you will be standing up.'

I tried to picture myself wearing God's armor, but all I saw was the stained yellow shirt…Slowly, it dawned on me…Wasn't my mother's love a piece of God's armor? My courage was renewed.

 Unpacking in our new home, I knew I had to get the shirt back to Mother. The next time I visited her, I tucked it in her bottom dresser drawer.

Meanwhile, I found a good job at a radio station. A year later I discovered the yellow shirt hidden in a rag bag in my cleaning closet.

Something new had been added. Embroidered in bright green across the breast pocket were the words 'I BELONG TO PAT.'

Not to be outdone, I got out my own embroidery materials and added an apostrophe and seven more letters.

Now the shirt proudly proclaimed, 'I BELONG TO PAT'S MOTHER.' But I didn't stop there. I zig-zagged all the frayed seams, then had a friend mail the shirt in a fancy box to Mom from Arlington, VA. We enclosed an official looking letter from 'The Institute for the Destitute,' announcing that she was the recipient of an award for good deeds.

I would have given anything to see Mom's face when she opened the box.  But, of course, she never mentioned it.

Two years later, in 1978, I remarried. The day of our wedding, Harold and I put our car in a friend's garage to avoid practical jokers. After the wedding, while my husband drove us to our honeymoon suite, I reached for a pillow in the car to rest my head.  It felt lumpy. I unzipped the case and found, wrapped in wedding paper, the yellow shirt. Inside a pocket was a note: 'Read John 14:27-29. I love you both, Mother.’ That night I paged through the Bible in a hotel room and found the verses: 'I am leaving you with a gift: peace of mind and heart. And the peace I give isn't fragile like the peace the world gives. So don't be troubled or afraid. Remember what I told you: I am going away, but I will come back to you again. If you really love me, you will be very happy for me, for now I can go to the Father, who is greater than I am. I have told you these things before they happen so that when they do, you will believe in me.'

The shirt was Mother's final gift. She had known for three months that she had terminal Lou Gehrig's disease. Mother died the following year at age 57.

 I was tempted to send the yellow shirt with her to her grave. But I'm glad I didn't, because it is a vivid reminder of the love-filled game she and I played for 16 years. Besides, my older daughter is in college now, majoring in art. And every art student needs a baggy yellow shirt with big pockets.

Who has changed your life?

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Who has changed your life??

The good stuff is easy to appreciate. It's the next step that is more difficult.

Even changes from struggle or loss come with a gift

 if you can shift your vision to see it.

Think about it...

WHO has changed your life?

Thank them!

Not soon. Not later....

Now!

Photo credit: Don Paulson at http://photo.net/photodb/photo?photo_id=6950516

Saying Goodbye

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Elizabeth had been at "the home" for 2 months, fluctuating between major decline and rallying to get back home with Lloyd. Those two were one of the handful of couples I have met during my career who gazed into each other's eyes after 60 years as if they had just fallen in love.

In fact, Lloyd told his cousin when he was 16, and Elizabeth 14, that he was going to marry that "pretty little thing" who was visiting her grandparents on the coast from her home in Sacramento.

He did, 3 years later. Lloyd is one of the most devoted husbands I have ever met. He visited our facility twice a day for the 2 months Elizabeth was rehabbing.

It became a struggle to make progress. She went into what we in the industry call "failure to thrive."  It means what it says.

Lloyd and I had moments during the last several weeks in which we knew Elizabeth would not return to her former state. My mission evolved from rehabbing her to home to dealing with more basic issues like making sure she did not choke when she ate and positioning her in bed to prevent decubitus ulcers.

We could no longer "skill" her for rehab. That means we had treated every area we could, and there was no longer anything else we could do.

Lloyd planned to take her home last Thursday, December 29. That morning, one of the aides informed me that she had already been assisted to his car. I knew I had to say goodbye.

I ran to the car and rapped on the passenger window. Lloyd was still inside signing her release. Elizabeth was so frail she could not reach to open the door, so I eased the door open and leaned in beside her.

We looked into each other's eyes. We smiled deeply. I told her what it meant to me that I had the privilege to know her. She told me she would never forget me. We hugged, knowing it would be the last time we would see each other. Lloyd's sister sat in the driver's seat and wept.

I left town after Thursday and returned late last night. I was treating a new patient in the gym this morning when one of the aides walked down to inform me that Lloyd was in the building. Elizabeth had passed away Friday morning, the day after she returned home.

Lloyd stopped by the rehab department, and we held each other tight for a moment. We recounted precious moments, like when he brought photos of their life together when they were young, how hard she worked in therapy, how devoted she was as a wife and mother, and how happy she was to return home. "She was so happy to look around all the rooms and see all the things she had collected over the years," he said.

" Lloyd.....you got her home. That was such a gift for her."

He agreed.

I knew it wasn't the time and place to cry, so we said goodbye, and I went back to my treatment and squeezed back tears.

Tonight, though, I figure it's just fine to feel emotional. Elizabeth had held on through so many days just to go home with her husband. She made it! It took everything she had. She barely held on each day so that she could leave this world from her own home. With her loving husband by her side.

Elizabeth and Lloyd touched my life in such a deep and simple way. We had a connection that many people never find in their work.

That is why I work with older people in a skilled nursing facility. It's not a glamorous place, but of all the environments in which I have worked, it is by far the most satisfying.

I get the privilege to share my days with people like Elizabeth and Lloyd.

God bless you, Elizabeth. Rest in peace!



Photo credit: http://wallpaperson.net/photo/nature/rays_from_heaven/22-0-7087

Short Video from Tre/Thoughts for Today

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Recorded this short video with my droid on my morning walk...

Click here

for Tre's Message Today!

The Gift of Your Presence

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I had the pleasure of returning to wine country last weekend to visit several sets of friends that I made during my last assignment. Some of the visits were planned, and others spontaneous.

It really spoke to my spirit as I drove past my old place, along my daily walk to work, and then, to the facility in which I greatly enjoyed working!

I planned to catch Monty and Joan just before dinner. When I walked in and greeted my old rehab director, he told me that "Mont" was out of town. My disappointment could not be masked!

BJ walked throughout the facility with me, pointing out changes in the three months since I have been gone. We walked down one hall, and I knew there was a room in which I would need to poke my head.

"Brendon!" I called out.

"Tre?...Tre!!"  The only part of him that could turn was his head. He is quadriplegic, shot in the spine half his life ago as he walked home from middle school on the streets of a large city in northern California.

Brendon and I spent a lot of time together. We identified his desire to get his GED. We figured out that he could use Dragon software to run a computer with his voice. I nominated him for a special trip to visit with his mom through Granted Wish Foundation (though they did not grant the wish, it gave us hope for a while!)
We practiced driving his sip and puff wheelchair, a motor wheelchair that is run by using breathwork. Sipping and puffing command the chair to drive forward, backward, turn, tilt and recline. You do it all with the straw, see?

Sip and Puff Motor Chair

We only spent a few minutes together, but I had to let him know that I think of him often, and I wish the best for him.

I turned to go, and I glanced over at his closet door. Taped on the door was an 8 x 10 photo of the two of us that we had taken when I nominated him for Granted Wish. (He hadn't known at the time we took the photo!) Under the photo, I had written,

You are never given a wish

without also being given the power

to make it come true.

Richard Bach, Illusions

"Brendan, you still have our photo!" I was so surprised!

"Of course, Tre, I will never forget you."

I turned to him.  "And I, you, my friend."

With that, we parted. I left his room feeling that I had just received a beautiful gift. What I hadn't realized until I saw our photo is that I had been a gift to him as well.

It brought tears to my eyes.

My message today is this: 

we never know how we impact people

with whom we may spend

a minute,

an hour,

a day,

a month,

a year.

The challenge

is to leave each and every person

feeling as if they have received a gift.

My Advice for Today

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My advice for today

is simple;

I read it

on my coffee cup

every morning:

Lesson of the Day: End the Day with Something Special

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I've made it just in time...

pulled the Forester into the bumpy dirt parking lot

on the cliff directly above the rough Pacific waves,

cut the engine, and

taken several deep and appreciative breaths.

I try to end the busy portion of my day right here.

Taking in the transition.

Reviewing the beauty of the day that I have been given.

Some of you already know that I dig sunsets.

Really, they make my whole day.

October 23, 2011  Spectacular Sunset over the Pacific

I am going through a recent shift.

I can't describe it, but I can tell you

that it has to do

with concentrating on what is really important in life.

God, family, loving each other, forgiving each other, being the best people we can be, helping others...such valuable priorities.

What we must do is

take care of ourselves

so that we can honor those priorities.

If we are exhausted, hurt, angry, hungry, lonely or depressed,

we can find it difficult to focus.

So...

how about transitioning every day with 5 to 30 minutes

of something that

feeds your spirit?

I watch sunsets.
You?
You can take a bath,

rub your feet with lotion (or let the kids do it!),

put on your favorite music,

rest in your favorite chair,

read an interesting book,

meditate,

write in your journal,

choose your 5 favorite things that happened today,

make love with your one and only,

talk with your best friend,

stretch,

breathe,

thank our Higher Power,

be gentle with yourself!

Lesson of the Day: Mr. Charlie Taught Us to "By-Grab-It!"

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Have you ever had a week of days where it's a victory just to get through each day? Last week was just that...No one who works in healthcare can consistently feel compassionate, patient and giving all the time.

During those hard-to-take moments, when we really wish we could go home, take a walk, eat a pint of sorbet or just take a nap, all we can do is

"By-Grab-It!"

Do any of you know what that means?  I tried to define it on Google, and all I come up with is a description of some new technology. My family members know what it means.  Whoa, do we know what it means!

A crusty, old WWII vet tobacco farmer in my home state introduced this word to my 6 siblings and me; he turned out to be one of our greatest life-lesson teachers.

MR. CHARLIE.

Mr. Charlie was the sole survivor of his company during the Battle of Normandy, shot full of shrapnel. In what we thought (in our youth) was a ripe old age, he stood 5'2" tops in his bib overalls and  flannel shirt. And he moved faster than most men a quarter of his age.

The man was a machine!

If you needed something done, Mr. Charlie had it done before you could blink. He finished his tobacco harvest long before all the other farmers and headed out to help his neighbors.

We were lucky recipients of his time and wisdom, though, at the time, we didn't necessarily see it as such!  You see, he always seemed to show up late in the evening, 10 or 15 minutes before it was quittin' time. Right before we planned to head in to the house to finish homework.

The dogs would begin to bark. The slice of headlights would light the starry sky in the otherwise black night. His truck tires would crunch down the snow-covered, quarter-mile lane.

Mr. Charlie would hop out of his truck as if he had downed a double espresso. The door to the stripping room would fly open. Now, what do you think that means?  Sound naughty?  Well, it's just the place tobacco farmers call the place they remove the leaves from the tobacco stalks.

We'd turn to greet him as we stood in line at a long table covered with tobacco plants, stripping cured tobacco leaves off the stalk, grading and separating them by quality.

"Well, Byyyyy-Grab!" he'd exclaim, closing the door. His weathered and whiskered face taking in the sight of us. His wide smile revealed shiny, pink gums. Not one tooth. "It's a good night for strippin' some tabaccer!"

Inside, we would groan, knowing it would now be at least another hour, or two, until we'd feel the warmth of the house and be able to sit down to finish our homework.

What's with the "by grab?" we'd ask each other early on. We never asked, and he never told.

But...what happened over time is that it became a verb.
           -
verb \bi-'grab-it\  sink your heels in and don't look back. Just get 'er done. As in, "You're just going to have to by-grab-it. Tough it out!"

Then, it morphed into an adjective.
                   -
adjective \bi-'grab-it\  an attribute characterizing perseverance, strength, initiation and reliability all rolled into one. As in, "He's a real by-grab-it kind of guy. He gets the job done!"

Today, 9 years ago, Mr. Charlie left this earth. When I attended his funeral, I was struck by the impact this sprite, tough, little man had on our lives. He still comes up frequently in conversation and so does his life lesson.

Mr. Charlie taught us how to keep on going, even when you want to quit:

Continue to put one foot in front of the other, even on the worst of days...

Keep moving...

Keep your head up...

Look only to the next step so you're not overwhelmed...

Keep going until you're DONE.

Nike said, "just do it!" Mr. Charlie said it even better.

Every day last week, that seemed to last 120 hours each, when fatigue and impatience were itching my skin, I thought about Mr. Charlie.

I sunk my heels in...

....and just By-Grabbed-It.

Lesson of the Day: ENJOY SMALL BREAKTHROUGHS

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It is 6:30 pm. I am getting ready to leave work, dead tired. I hear Joan's voice at the door.

"This is it...right here. This is where we're supposed to be."

I swivel around on my stool from the computer where I'm feverishly trying to finish the mountain of rehab documentation that never goes away, and in wheels Joan with Monty in tow. I will stop heaven and earth for those two.

Something amazing happens when the 3 of us are together.

Joan came to our nursing facility when her dementia and other medical conditions became too much for Monty to care for her at home. Monty drives 45 minutes one-way every evening to have dinner with Joan. I don't want to say too much about them because "Mont" has given permission for me to interview him about 'dedication'.

Joan rarely remembers my name, but she will call out to me from 30 feet away. Sometimes I am Mary; other times, Carol. The one thing that is consistent is that she associates me with Mont because I go to the dining room almost every night to tell them goodbye.

So, my plans immediately change. I will not leave work at 6:30. I put Dean Martin in the stereo and sit down. Joan is very communicative tonight; much of the sentence structure doesn't allow for understanding a train of thought, but her affect and her enthusiasm are what is important to enjoy. Monty does such a great job of allowing Joan to just "be." 

Joan lets me clip and clean her nails. I'm the only one, Mont says, who she will allow. We listen to Dean sing "That's Amore."

As they turn to leave from our brief visit, Joan begins to speak in full sentences, reflecting accurate information about her sisters, their age differences, and her early adult life in Germany as a singer for Armed Forces Network.

Then she talks about when she and Monty met. She looks up at Mont and says, "We will be together forever. Really, forever."

Amazing.

Monty and I look at each other, pleasantly shocked!  I lean down to Joan and look her in the eye.

"Joan, you are just wonderful!"

Her face lights up with an expression I really can't describe. What she says next, with a sincere and emotional tone, touches me deeply.

"I love you."

This conversation lasts only five minutes. Its impact continues.

Isn't life better when we are aware and grateful for small breakthroughs!

Lesson of the Day: ENDINGS = BEGINNINGS

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The theme today was endings, or it is... beginnings? I think it's both.

An absolutely stunning, petite woman was admitted for rehab just before I went on vacation. While I hoped that she would be well enough to go home before I returned to work, I was secretly pleased yesterday when I turned the corner at the nurses' station and set sight on Rita's serene smile.

She's bald and less than 85 pounds. Her baseline? Thick, black, luxurious hair and 110.

She's fighting her cancer with a vengeance. And she has four daughters doing battle alongside her. You could say, in fact, that at times, they are doing battle with her.

"Ma, maaaaa, take another bite! Just one more..."
"Ma, it's time for your exercise."

There have been moments in the process when her grip on the armor lessens, and I see fatigue. Fear. She has confided that her girls are afraid she is going to starve to death because of how the cancer affects her ability to eat and eliminate waste.

Rita is primarily concerned about her adult children: "What will they do? They have already given so much of their time and energy. They have their own lives to live. I'm afraid they will burn out."

Yesterday, she had a procedure done to drain fluid off her abdomen that set her back five paces. Her stomach pain throughout today was at times intense.

I spent a few extra minutes with her to provide a Reiki treatment, a Japanese technique for stress reduction and relaxation that also promotes healing. I knew this would allow her to relax and manage her pain more effectively.  I have integrated Reiki into my OT practice for years.

If you're curious, check out the International Center for Reiki Training.

In the middle of the treatment, she popped up for a moment, rolled from her back to her left side and picked up what looked like a thin, green pocketbook off her tray table. When she snapped it open, it was a photo album that her granddaughter had made for her, a complete collection of family photographs of her with kids and grandkids interspersed with Bible quotes .

She pointed out each family member, and then, her finger stopped on a gorgeous, sophisticated woman.

"This is me with hair."

I focused on this woman who I already felt was beautiful without hair.  I suddenly realized the severity of her loss. Literally, physically, emotionally. It was more, of course, than just about hair. 

"You know, Rita," I said, "has anyone told you how perfectly your head is shaped?" (It really is.)

She smiled. "Quite a few."

"Well," I said, "I think you look great with very little hair!"

And she replied, "I think I might keep it short...even though it is going to be gray now."

I told her about a friend of mine who did that in her late 40's, went gray. Quit coloring. She looked stunning.

I also told Rita that she is still the same Rita that had hair, that weighed a little more, that had the energy to cook for her big family. The same Rita. That Rita had not extinguished. She was still right here in my presence.

The crease between her eye brows deepened, and a tear welled up in her left eye.

"OK."

An ending; a beginning.

Later that day, Eileen arrived. When I knocked on the door to introduce myself, an aide was guiding her out of the bathroom. As she pushed with a walker, I observed a bobbing and weaving pattern unlike the more characteristic symptom of Parkinson's Disease, the tremor.

During her evaluation, I had to concentrate deeply on 2 things. 

First, I had to focus on the movement of her lips to understand her, because her speech was barely audible.

Second, I had to follow her lips, as her head and upper body weaved back and forth rhythmically. The only time they stopped was when she took a deep breath. I was exhausted from concentrating by the end of our session, but this time with her was one of the highlights of my day.

Eileen was lovely!

As we tested strength, balance, and cognitive abilities, we made a list of all the activities she cherished the most. After all, as an occupational therapist, it's all about returning people to the highest level of function so they are able to engage in life!

A short time ago, Eileen had been walking 9 holes weekly with a ladies golfing group. "We can swing golf clubs during your balance retraining!" I told her. She had been a voracious reader, but macular degeneration had limited her sight, making her central vision blurry.

"Are you open to audio books?" I asked her.

"Absolutely!"

"Perfect!" I'll bring the application tomorrow for the State Talking Book Library in Sacramento. You'll be going through a book a day in no time."

I explained to her that when we do OT, if a person cannot fully return to the activity they once loved, it is not lost forever. The activity may simply need to be modified.

Eileen paused for a moment during the evaluation. "Sometimes, I wake up in the morning ready to bounce right out of bed like I used to. I forget that I can't. I think it's time to load the clubs in the back of the car and take off.  Then, just getting out of bed is a reminder."

"Eileen, you are still the same woman who golfs with friends. You are the same woman who has helped so many children in your job. You are still the same person on the inside."

So many of my patients tell me stories like this. Someone with a stroke whose arm won't move will report that they dreamed they had full use of that hand or another will say he walked. It all feels so natural and "complete" in the dream state.

Some awaken dejected. Others are motivated by their dreams. Their reactions are usually consistent with their outlooks on life.

They will either see their current station in life as the end of the road, or they will shift through their former perceptions of what life was into a new and meaningful way of living . Living fully. Despite the obstacles.

Dr. Wayne Dyer wrote a small paperback called Living the Wisdom of the Tao. In it, he includes the 16th verse of the Tao Te Ching, part of which goes like this:

"...let your heart be at peace.
Amidst the rush of worldly comings and goings,
observe how endings become beginnings.
Things fluorish, each by each,
only to return to the Source...
to what is and what is to be. "

If a major illness or injury happened to you, would you choose to think your life was ending or beginning?

Endings = beginnings.

Lesson of the Day: WORDS OF AFFIRMATION

 I noticed a trend today. Appreciation!

I was greeted this morning by nursing facility residents with bright smiles, "ohs!" (new hair style - they all noticed, even the ones with dementia!) and sweet words ("We missed you, Tre! We're so glad you're back! How was your vacation?) I felt such appreciation!

Isn't that a great way to start the week!

There's a book I'd like to recommend. The 5 Love Languages by Gary Chapman.  In the book, Chapman introduces five ways in which people demonstrate their love for each other.

One of these is words of affirmation.

Receiving such sweetness from my older friends fueled a desire to pay forward positivity today. What "something special" could I note and share with each person in appreciation of them?

I understood more about Hank during his occupational therapy appointment today. I palpably felt his anguish as he opened up about a childhood rife with abuse by his mentally ill mother and social isolation at school.

This man, however, navigated through a miserable childhood into a meaningful life as an artist and teacher, father and friend.

By the time we parted, I realized that tatoos were Hank's route to a life of creative expression, friendship and empowerment. Every tatoo represented a significant moment or mark of friendship in Hank's life. Some of us may choose photos or jewelry or momentos to remember special events or beloved people.

Hank chose art...
...on his skin.

He morphed today from just a guy with tatoos to an authentic creative professional.

What I appreciated about Hank was his dedication to his art form and his contribution to the education of future tatoo artists. College degree in art, years spent teaching newbies in a seven-year apprentice program...

Seven years?! I had no idea....this wasn't just a two-week training session...

I gave him kudos. That's all I could do. He beamed.

Appreciation.

Shortly after, I sat down with a resident with dementia who had recently undergone inguinal hernia surgery. Earlier in life as a surgeon, Ron  had corrected inguinal hernias.

I explained to Ron that we needed to work together because his surgery and hospitalization had weakened him.

"What surgery?" he asked.

"Well," I replied, "you had a right inguinal hernia surgery last week."
He immediately touched his right groin area. I asked, "Dr. Ron, how do you fix a hernia?" And he launched into an admirable description of how to surgically correct it.

Wow.

In the healthcare world, we always check something called orientation. Do you know:

1) who you are
2) where you are
3) when it is; and
4) why you're there?

Dr. Ron was oriented only to who he was, yet he could retrieve from memory how to perform surgery!

Dr. Ron was not the same after surgery as before; something subtle had shifted in his affect. When I looked him squarely in the eyes at the end of the treatment to congratulate him on a job well done, his dull eyes locked with mine, and suddenly, it was as if they lit up. They sparkled...and then a smile emerged that I had not seen in quite some time.

My heart squeezed. "Dr. Ron, you just made my day."

He winked.

I wanted to talk a bit more about Dr. Ron's work. "So, tell me about the other surgeries you used to perform."

"Surgeries?"

The moment was lost.

Dr. Ron may not always remember what a difference he has made, but it didn't stop me from reminding him.

We all want to know that we contribute in some significant way. It's also up to us to acknowledge the contributions of others.

 Appreciation...pay it forward!

Lesson of the Day: DON'T JUDGE A BOOK BY ITS COVER...

Back to my blog home page: http://travelingotr.blogspot.com


It's Saturday, July 30, my first day back to work in the rehabilitation department of a small tourist town nursing facility in northern California following a whirlwind 2-week vacation in the Mediterranean. It's during this vacation that my twin sister pins me down.

She's the Director of Online Communications for a multi-national there. She insists I start a blog to share the tidbits of LMAO or bring-you-to-tears material that I shoot off to my mom and sisters via email or tales I tell when all seven siblings and spouses huddle at "the farm."

I oblige. I realize it's time.

Thank God she has the skills to set me up. Ask me to figure out how to make a muscle move after a stroke or how to treat a cognitive disorder, and I'm fine. Starting a blog is another story. So, here goes!

I am a traveling occupational therapist...an OT.

Travelers can land anywhere across the US for short stints of, say, 8 to 52 weeks. We work in hospitals, nursing homes, or home health agencies.

In my current assignment, I started shortly after Labor Day 2010 on an 18-week contract at what some family members there refer to as a "convalescent home" in northern California. I fell in love with them, and they with me. I kept extending my assignment. Voila, in 5 weeks time, I bid them farewell, or I am considered a permanent employee at the year anniversary.

It's unusual to linger in a travel spot.

These positions are sometimes (not always!) vacant in facilities you'd feel ill at ease to consider for your ailing loved one. Telltale signs of a poorly run facility, in case you're wondering (thank goodness, it is not like this industry wide):

wheelchairs caked with old food or worse,
dirty fingernails,
the smell of urine,
people sitting in the front lobby without their false teeth or glasses...

Surroundings aside, there is one thing that keeps me consciously choosing this setting - the feisty, beautiful, confused, graceful, crabby, hilarious, angry, and honest old people.

But let me tell you now. This is not a glamorous field.

Today, I would have welcomed a slide-into-work-again easy day, but it was not to be. The first patient I introduced myself to was a 72 year old cardiac patient splayed out on his bed, beer belly exposed, tatoos completely painting his arms and legs, and whining that he couldn't move in the bed to reach his bedside urinal.

While I bit my tongue 5 times in the hour I was with him, counting the minutes until I had evaluated his ability to toilet, groom and get back into bed (we call that ADLs - Activities of Daily Living), I was humbled when he said something really serious.

I asked him what he wanted to be called. "Hank," he said. "Please don't call me Robert" (the name on his chart) - "my mother and step father used to beat me, and that's what she always called me...Robert."

"I hate that name," as he cast his eyes away.

I assured him that I would inform everyone of his wish. He paused a moment and followed with a sincere apology for ranting and raving through the whole treatment...and I thought, I am so glad I bit my tongue!

We simply do not know what rocky, curvy paths others have sailed, trudged or crawled. It's easy to look at someone and judge. He's got tatoos. She's bald. He's a dirty old man. She's a bitch.

In the past couple months, I have held hands with, listened to, praised, instructed, solved the world's problems with and encouraged former campaign managers, a law professor who pens travel guides, a spunky 92 year-old who outfitted half of Hollywood's costumes in the 1950's, a physical therapist who treated WWII soldiers and Hollywood's finest, friends of the real Linus from Charles Schulz's 'Peanuts' cartoon, winery warehouse managers, and an orthopedic surgeon with dementia.

I have learned valuable lessons from a electric pole climber who nearly killed himself drinking too much, a homeless guy whose truck rolled over on him at a truck stop (long story), British war brides and a number of indigent patients just trying to survive.

They each look different on the outside, yes, but guess what? We all have the same feelings, experiences and challenges on the inside. When we strip away all the reasons we set ourselves apart, we are all people simply trying.

To survive.

To love.
To be heard.
To live.

I entered a room today, glanced at the A bed, closest to the door. The pale, gaunt man was laying on his right side covered with a sheet, legs curled up despite the knee splints to attempt to straighten them. He was reaching into thin air for something only he could see. Muttering.

I discovered photos newly hung on his wall. His daughter must have stopped by when I was on vacation. There Tom was...a life collage of an incredibly good looking and successful man. Soldier with a strong and eager face, vibrant NYC professional in a starched suit, enthusiastic husband and father, surrounded by his smiling family.

I paused my gaze on him. He had returned to his youth and was pulling a sheet of paper out of a manual typewriter, chasing a deadline for the Wall Street Journal.

If I am one day old, confused and bedbound with contractures, who will have the eyes and heart to realize that I have led an adventurous, boisterous and full life? I do very much hope by then that they don't judge my book by its cover.