Necessary Mutilation

Weight: 191.7 lbs.

I feel so relieved to feel back to normal today…and I see that my weight has dropped accordingly. I am still stymied as to what swept over me, and how I can both gain and lose so quickly although for the most part, neither my eating or drinking habits changed much. I must really listen to others and my own advice to stop being so focused on the scale, as although it can be diagnostic and keep me from trouble at times, at others, it can freak and discourage me, and give a false reading on what may be going on. I am truly convinced that I was caught up in some wierd retaining state, possibly due to too much heat and sun or carbs and salt…. Whatever the case, I feel so much less achey and bloated today, and am back to my old self. For good or bad.

Last night, Tom and I laughed ourselves to sleep, and this may have also been therapeutic and burnt off a few calories. What were we laughing about…? My job, actually. I was telling Tom about all the new and frustrating paperwork and other requirements, and how I am being minutaed to death. And how I worry that this is compromising the quality and time for care for my clients. I was giving one example of how our counseling clients now have to sign in in our offices as well as in the waiting room, when they come for service. I was grousing about how time consuming and maddening this can be for both them and me, and some extraordinary issues that arise and can interfere with time and focus on counseling.

I will give you the same examples gleaned from this week, that I gave Tom. And in case you forgot, I see individuals with developmental disabilities who are also stuggling with mental health and/or behavior problems.

“Hi, “Sheila”. I need to ask you to sign your name on this clipboard when you are in my office, just like you do in the waiting room. We have a new rule now.”

“How come?”

“Well, the boss thinks it is a good idea”

“But I already signed in”

I know. I am sorry that you’ll have to do it twice from now on.”

“How come?”

“Sometimes we all have to follow new rules.”

“Can I have the pen? I like the pen?”

“No, Sheila. I need to keep it so other people can sign in too.”

“But I like it!”

“It is nice…but I can’t give it to you.”

“Why not!?”  “Sometimes you give me pens here.”

“Yes, I know. But I can’t give you THIS pen. See how it is attached to the clipboard so everyone can use it. Just please sign your name.”

“How come?”

“Sheila, we don’t have much time to talk, and it is important that we get this done so we can still have time left for counseling.”

“But I want the pen.”

“I know you do. Please use it and just write your name.”

“This pen is nicer than the ones you give me. I want it too!”

“Remember our talks about respect and sharing. It isn’t fair or proper to beg for things, especially when you have been told that they aren’t yours.”

“Ok, ok…… How do you make an “S”"

 

Arghhhh!

And then there are those who can’t hold a pen due to cerebral palsy and need guidance to write, those who can’t spell but insist on doing it “themselves”, and those, say with OCD, who turn signing into an art form. I am learning more about my clients conditions from this than the therapeutic process itself, and sometimes it allows us to segue into relevent subjects, such as that of sharing, hoarding and respect, with “Sheila.”

However, here is another example that speaks to how otherwise maddening this can be, and if only the state or the bosses or whoever has decided that we must do this saw how it can play out, perhaps there would be hope of canning this bright idea!

“Hi, “Jeff”. We have a new rule that everyone has to sign in in my room now”. “Can you please write your name and the time you got in here?”

Jeff, a sweet young man with Downs Syndrome, takes the pen with concentration and effort. He holds it with a death grip, with his tongue planted near his nose, as he uses herculian effort to comply with my request. Ten minutes later he is still trying!

“Jeff, its ok. Can I help you finish?”

“I can do it”

“Really, Jeff. We need to leave some time for counseling….here, let me see if we can get this done, ok?”

“No.”  “I’m almost done”

(So is our counseling time).

“Jeff, lets see where you’re at with it, so we can finish it together”

Ignores me.

(Gimme the freakin’ clipboard!!)

“Jeff, I’m going to have to take it from you now. Time is up!”

He begrudgingly lets me have it, and I see 1/2 of the word Jeff scrawled across several lines, with no last name yet. I finish it for him and thank him for the good job, but he is now sad and distressed that he didn’t get to finish. I reassure him that it is ok, and I help other people too, and no one will be in trouble.

(Why are we talking about this?! The poor guys mother died and he is here for grief counseling!)

Clearly I have to come up with a new system!! As if the people I see (and now myself!) aren’t already traumatized enough! That’s what they are supposed to be coming to see me for!

And if I wasn’t laughing, I’d be crying too!