A Common Complaint

Today I made the acquaintence of an older couple who live in a small apartment here in Paradise.
The gentleman was released after a series of radium treatments into the care of his arthritic wife. She is 86. He is 88. He cannot walk without assistance. In fact. he has no balance.

What on earth is our HealthCare system coming to?
On what planet does this scenario make sense?

Poster Boy

A young man in his 30s sits at the table perusing the latest copy of Time magazine. He is a very good looking man with bright eyes and a ready smile. When he speaks, he is articulate - very well spoken. He is also, by the way, schizophrenic. Let us call him Ron.

Ron and I are sitting in a house funded by Mental Health where a variety of programs are offered for the consumers - all people suffering with Mental Illnesses. Currently, some funding has come their way to make a series of videos on living with a Mental Illness.

One of the staff is trying to get Ron interested in appearing in the video. Another is leaning close to me whispering: "See what you can do to get Ron to be in the movie. He would be perfect!" They already have 5 or 6 *actors* who are very eager to appear. They are not among the highest functioning clients but they have great enthusiasm for this project. Ron is looking uncomfortable and asks me to go for a walk with him.

As we amble down the lane he tells me that every time he goes to this place it is the same story.
He is feeling pressured.

"I don't want to be in a movie. I don't want people labeling me. I am more than my illness. I don't want to be the Poster boy for schizophrenia."

In that moment I realize his assessment is right on the money.
They want a Poster boy; especially one as eye-pleasing and charismatic as Ron is.
They want him so badly that they are forgetting one of their own tenets: to let the client be who they are and allow them to express themselves as they wish.

As I drop Ron off he thanks me and says he does not want to go there anymore.
Later, a volunteer for this Society tells me that most of the high functioning clients do not find a peer within the House. Most of them stop coming after a few visits. The people at the top of the food chain view it as them expressing their recovery.

I view it as another pothole in the Health Care system.
Preaching to the converted.

Hard times, soft people

IF you have never experienced a moment un-copable, if you have never been touched by the hand of fate in a withering manner, then you cannot possibly empathsize with those in crisis invisible -- the warriors of the unseen, the shadows of the mind.

During my walk-a-bouts, I frequently run into people who I met when I volunteered at the Street level Mental Health Centre. This group of people has the highest rate of loss of any group I know, including my elderly clients. The ones who wink out, or flash by tend to be in their 30s, or 40s.

It was sad news to hear that yet another of the folk I bonded with during my 2 year sojourn is gone to a heroin overdose. Damnitall people, HEROIN HATES YOU!

I would like to think this was an accidental overdose. Like last time it was an accidental fall from a cliff. And before that an accidental carbon monoxide poisoning.... and on and on and on.
The system is broke. And noone with power, authority and money is taking responsibility and trying to make it right. We need a Mike Holmes of Mental Health.

Years ago after my volunteer stint I applied for a job at this *place* and was told that they perceived my skills to be in the social realm of things. This, evidentally, was not in the job criteria. But they would be delighted if I continued to volunteer. I hate to say it but something my ex said to me rang in my mind:
"Even Jesus had to eat."

Yes, I am retired from the BIG LIFE of olde. No, I am not independantly wealthy.
I require income.

All these losses make me sad. The 3am of the soul came hard for each of these folk.
I understand. And after a week on heavy doses of codeine, I understand very well.
Opiates of any description or strength do not agree with me. Oh they take the pain away....
but they make me exist in a twilight of terror.

Getting close to 2 years since Mad Bee Maddie took her life.
I saw her former lover today - (sigh)

Why is life so hard on the young?
Why do fragile people find little strength from friends and community?

I try not to take it all on. Good thing I did not get the job at the Mental Health centre.
It would have challenged my every boundary.

Still human,...... sigh. Currently decidely human.

"But I’ve never caught a glimpse..."

It MUST have been Mercury in retrograde, coupled with the full moon.
What a bloody mess of a day.

Working in the Village is very convenient. We are allotted 15 minutes travel-time between each client, and frequently need them but my schedule was such that my day would end with me 1.25 hours ahead of myself. Five times point two-five.

"So I turned myself to face me..."
The one day I decide I do not want the extra time anywhere and start half an hour later, my schedule gets changed. CH-CH-CH-CHANGES!! No more long travel-time ... I am now officially *late* (buggerbuggerbugger)

"HEY! we were looking for you at Mrs' ___'s ... are you running a little late?"

And WHAM- changes.
So next client I am finished my work anticipating my long drive out to the boonies for two clients I do not know. One is for 1 and a half hours the other for one and three quarter hours.
-ring ring-
"Hello you! We had a call from (another in the field employee) They were expecting you at Mr. ____'s 30 minutes ago! Are you running late?"

I thought they had taken him OFF my schedule and replaced him with the two boonies people. Now I am in my car ZOOMING to the clients. He is in a foul mood probably from sitting waiting for me. He is swinging his fists and swearing and it is a bad day. He does not connect with my co-worker but it is not for lack of trying. He calms down a bit before we leave as I turn the charm up to SUPERCHARGE. And NOW I take off for the toolies.

I do not know the person I am going to, nor anything about them but their name, address and pertinent medical history. I pull in, walk up, ring the bell and NATURALLY there is no answer. Now I am obligated by the terms of my employment to stay in that driveway fifteen minutes, and of course I do but I am more importantly ethically obligated to make sure that person is not on the floor or fallen in the hallway just out of my earshot. So I peer in windows, telephone the office and get the office to telephone the client.

During the peering in windows part, a firecracker is set off right behind me. I am thinking: " Oh great! Now they are shooting at me!"

I call from my cellphone and the line cuts out during the call.
I drive to a payphone and wait while the office calls the home, trying to rouse someone.
When they cannot they call the contact number and again, there is noone there.
So I am given the addressed and I spend an hour driving from A to B looking for someone.
Rural area. Lots of pickup trucks and such. I give up and go for coffee after 45 minutes.

So now I go to the *other* client I have been switched to.
She has had a bad morning. She declines her personal care as she is exhausted.
She asks me to prep some food but there is no food. She wants me to vaccuum but I cannot....
(sigh)
So we chat. For an hour and a half.

Now my regular clients have been serviced by someone else, very capably I am sure.
And I have just been paid for doing sweet bugger all.

No wonder the Country is going broke.
(!!)

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