I received a call from an outsourcing agency, looking for recreational therapists to come in to the Long Term Care Facility where Mr.C lived and complete a working interview. This interview would consist of dinner with Mr.C, and of course, some therapeutic programming prior to meal time. The woman on the other end of the line described my potential soon to be client as a tall, handsome yet quiet man who enjoyed a good steak and potatoes. I smiled on the other end of the line and wondered to myself "Who doesn't?", with all due respect to my vegetarian and vegan friends of course. We agreed on a date and time and I found myself excited to meet Mr. C, as well as speak with the program director about incorporating a therapy animal to help with our goal setting.
Arriving at the beautiful Long Term Care facility, I was greeted by bubbly receptionists and a smiling 70-something woman with beautiful snowy hair and crimson lips. I received two codes for the pinpads attached to the doors leading to Mr.C's unit.
You see, Mr. C is not allowed to leave his unit alone. He cannot wander the facility, he cannot view the garden from a sunny bench and he cannot decide he wants a freezie on a summer day or to visit a coffee shop and skim the paper.
Mr.C has Alzheimers.
After pushing the spongy buttons on the keypads with the two numeric sets, I entered the unit and was met by a lovely woman named Samara. She was the head of Recreational Programming and seemed very enthused that I came, however appeared a bit worried as well. We entered a small office decorated with slogans about empowerment, integrity and aging; on her desk was a picture of a small grey cat - a good sign, I figured. Samara went on to tell me more about Mr. C. His likes - television, walks, bed. His dislikes - Most people, loud noises, bright lights, dinner interruptions, long books, the snow, paint on his hands, playing cards, any music but classical...the list seemed endless. I wasn't worried though, because although the list of dislikes far outweighed the list of likes, I wanted to help. I wondered when I was going to be hit with the real issue and then I was. Mr.C has been physically aggressive with eight, yes eight, of his previous caregivers/therapists. Samara stated some said he just "flipped out" others said he was "such an ANGRY man" and while I listened to more, I refused to just accept it and believe it all. Don't get me wrong, the idea of being punched by a 70 year old war vet terrified me, yet I didn't want to just abandon this human being and leave him to a lifetime of public television re-runs and cold shepherds pie. With a nod and my agreeing to meet him, we left the office and started down the hall toward his unit; my hands were clammy.
I entered the room behind Samara who knocked first and greeted Mr. C by his first name. As I looked down, I saw a smiling man, upside down in bed in striped pyjamas (it was 3:30 pm), glasses askew and eyes bright. Samara asked Mr. C why he didn't let the nurse dress him this morning and he continued to stare and smile. I introduced myself and went to shake his hand with no response. After excusing us both from the room, Samara said this behaviour was typical and would often occur daily for weeks, sometimes months at a time. I agreed to stay for my interview and said I would give it my all. We reviewed proper practice for placing and positioning oneself with a potentially aggressive or combative individual and she wished me luck, smiled and walked down the hall, adding to meet me back in her office at 6:00. I had 2 and a half hours with Mr.C.
I tried to talk to him, I tried to make him laugh. I tried to ask if he wanted a walk, a glass of juice, to be read to, to look at the paper. No, no, no, no; the only response I could get was a shake of his head at the juice and him looking into my eyes when I asked each other question. I felt sad, frustrated and wondered what could help as I watched him trace the outline of his comforter and pick at the cuff of his pajama top. I knew helping Mr.C could take months or years if we had that long, and I didn't want to disappoint him or Samara, as well as the rest of his care team at the centre, but I had a strong idea in mind as to what or who could possible help someone like Mr.C.
She was white, fur soft as a lamb and facial expressions no one I know can deny....
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