honest moments

I love Friday mornings when I don’t have school and I get to sleep for more than 5 hours because my body knows it can relax because the stress of the week is over.

 I love that I can lollygag and drink coffee and surf the web for hours and not consider it unproductive or wasteful.

 I love that my biggest problems today are that my house isn’t clean and that my laundry isn’t done.

 I love that all my relationships with others are good and that drama isn’t a part of my life anymore. 

I love that I genuinely don’t care of what other people think of me.

 I love that I didn’t wake up with any regrets about yesterday or the day before.

I really like that my feelings no longer control my actions or consume my thoughts.

 I really like that it’s supposed to get cooler this weekend. 

I like that if there is something I don’t like about my life or about myself that I know how to change it. 

I like that I don’t live with constant “should haves” floating around in my head. (Ex. “I should have gotten up earlier and run 5 miles.” “I should have not eaten that bowl of ice cream last night”. You get the point.)

I love that I can embrace the fact that on the spectrum of perfection and worthlessness is being human --and that is where I am today.

I love that I can look at everyone in my life as my teachers—and that I have the insight to remind myself to stay teachable.

I love that I don’t have to figure everything out today--that I get to only concern myself with what I’m going to do for the next 24 hours.

I’m thankful that I woke up this morning with this perspective on life.

And lastly, I’m thankful that I woke up period.

Happy weekend, friends! 

blessed are the flexible...

.…for they shall never be bent out of shape.

One of the traits I most admire and respect in people is their mental flexibility. I believe that it’s the hallmark sign of an emotionally healthy and mature person. What gets us most bent out of shape is our expectations. We expect things to go a certain way and for people to act a certain way and when things don’t go as planned or when people don’t act like we think they should—we get upset. We get frustrated and angry and throw a fit like a 2 year old. Yet if you step back from any situation and change your perception and ask yourself, “Does this really matter in the grand scheme of things?”—I think you’ll find that the answer is always no. It doesn’t really matter. It’s usually never a life or death matter. It’s a matter of changing the way you view things.

I think being mentally inflexible isn’t something we’re often aware of. Our professor changes something on the syllabus or forgets to tell us something about a test and we FREAK out. Why? Our professors are human. They make mistakes too. A friend makes dinner plans with you two weeks in advance and then cancels on you 15 minutes before you walk out the door. Throwing a fit isn’t going to affect your friend. It’s only going to affect you. You realize there’s been a miscommunication with your co-worker and you completed the wrong paper work for a client. Blaming your co-worker might make you feel good for a few seconds but why not change your perception and realize that it’s just not that big of a deal-- even if you wasted a few hours. You can either choose to look at it as “wasted time” or as a learning tool. 

Earlier this week I had movie plans with a friend. She told me I could choose the movie. I chose Argo. I’ve been dying to see this film and had been looking forward to seeing it for days. I needed a strong, emotionally resilient film for the state of mind I was in. I didn’t want to see a quirky, weird, independent film. I usually really like those—but not that day. I wanted to leave the theater with that feeling of triumph.

Yet I looked at the wrong times for the theater we were going to. I looked at the time for the movie showing on Lakeland. But we went to Madison. When we got there the movie was sold out and had started 20 minutes before. Without any hesitancy I said, “Well what’s playing in the next few minutes?” and lo and behold another movie was playing that we also wanted to see (Seven Psychopaths) and so we bought tickets and continued along with our plans. Although the movie was weird and quirky and I did not leave the theater with feelings of wonder and amazement about the human race, it was a funny film and I enjoyed spending time with my friend.

The Jennifer a year ago (and possibly a week ago) would have been put out that she wasn’t going to get to see the one film she was dying to see. She would have pouted or sulked and possibly looked up times for the same film at other theaters. (ok I’ll stop the typing in 3^rd person).

But I didn’t. I really didn’t think too much about it. And it wasn’t until the movie was over and we were walking out of the theater that I begin to process this. And then I realized what I’ve really been trying to learn the past few years is how to be mentally flexible. You can call it “go with the flow”, “compensation” “adaption”…there are many words that mean the same thing. But it all boils down to being able to cope when things don’t go the way I want them too. Being able to adapt and change my perspective because that keeps my quality of life high. The more time I spend thinking about what should have happened or what could have happened is time that has been spent in the past and not the present. It serves no purpose. It doesn’t allow me to enjoy my life because I’m thinking about something that went awry. 

Why is it so hard for us to stop, realize what’s going on, accept that there’s nothing we can do about it, and then move forward? Why does no one do this? Why have I just started doing this? My life would have been SO much easier if I had started realizing this and practicing this before now. But it’s just now really dawned on me that this is what I’ve been working towards for the past 3 years.

I want to be mentally flexible. When things don’t go my way, when people cancel on me, when my family and friends disappoint me, when I don’t like the movie someone picks or the place to eat someone picks, or when my hypothetical boyfriend and I have a misunderstanding. I want to be able to stop. Realize what’s going on. And I want to ask myself if this really matters. And 9 times out of 10 I bet it won’t. And then I want to shift my attitude and perspective and say, “carry on”. 

That’s my goal.

If you see me get bent out of shape (and I’m sure you will because heaven knows I’m not perfect) then I hope you also see me adapt and change my perspective and quickly resolve whatever misunderstanding or expectation that existed in the first place.

You don’t have to throw a fit. Or if you do that’s okay. But you don’t have to allow it to change your attitude and affect your entire day. You are responsible for your actions and words regardless of the way you feel.

So let’s start a revolution and strive to become mentally flexible. The real test will be the next time someone lets you down or your expectations are shattered or someone cancels on you….how will you react? I don’t know—but let’s just try being flexible and see what happens next.

“Nothing in the world is more flexible and yielding than water. Yet when it attacks the firm and the strong, none can withstand it, because they have no way to change it. So the flexible overcome the adamant, the yielding overcome the forceful. Everyone knows this, but no one can do it.”

Lao Tzu 

thank you, mr. jones

I do believe we're all connected. I do believe in positive energy. I do believe in the power of prayer. I do believe in putting good out into the world. And I believe in taking care of each other.

~Harvey Fierstein 

I've been “working” in the acute care unit at UMMC this week. And by “working” I mean “following an OT around observing” what our job looks like in acute care. I have thoroughly enjoyed being out of the classroom but I can’t say I've enjoyed being in a hospital. I’ve worked on the neurology floor all week—I’ve seen a variety of stroke patients and because we typically see the same patients each day until they are discharged, I've gotten acquainted with several of them.

I’m going to tell you about one in particular.

Mr. Jones (not really his name) came into the acute care unit about a week and a half ago due to an ischemic stroke which affected his entire right side. He’s about 47 years old and every day when we go into his room to work with him, he’s always so motivated and ready to take on whatever challenge we give him. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get better”, is something I’ve heard him say a dozen times this week.

Our therapy sessions consist of transitions (supine to sit—sit to stand) and forced use of his affected extremities (that means forcing him to use his weak side). Mr. Jones cannot lift his right arm at all. It hangs like dead weight beside him and because he’s also lost sensation, he can’t tell where his arm is in comparison with the rest of his body—meaning, he could be sitting on his wrist and not even know it—which could easily lead to a broken wrist, fingers, etc. He cannot hold a fork in his right hand, he cannot brush his teeth with his right hand, getting dressed is almost impossible because not only can he not use his right arm, he can’t use his right anything. He can’t stand without assistance, he can’t walk by himself, he can’t go the bathroom by himself—and even if that were possible, he couldn't wipe himself.

(The good news is that with lots of therapy, Mr. Jones will be able to regain a lot of independence and has the potential to return to a high functioning level which means that his quality of life will eventually be very close to where it was before.)

Today when we walked in Mr. Jones’ room for his therapy session, he was curled up under the covers in the bed. The blinds were closed and the room was dark. When we asked him if he was ready for therapy, he replied “Not today. Maybe tomorrow”. This was unusual because he’s been so motivated this week. We asked him if he was in pain and he said no. We went through a series of questions to try and figure out what was wrong and finally the truth came out. Mr. Jones didn’t want to participate in therapy today because the gravity of his situation had sunk in and become real.

Mr. Jones— this very funny, smart, strong. and brave man-- will never experience life the way he did before his stroke last week. His life will never be the same. He will no longer be able dress himself independently. He will no longer be able to drive himself to the store. He will no longer be able to work on his car or cut his grass. Everything about his life has drastically changed. It feels as if every time he looks in the mirror he’s living a nightmare. His face looks different. His smile is different. His entire world is now a completely different place.

And when the OT explained to Mr. Jones that these feelings of depression and frustration were normal and that we understood how incomprehensible this kind of transition was—Mr. Jones broke down. He pulled the covers up over his head and sobbed. And at the time, I didn't let it affect me because (unfortunately or not) I’ve learned to compartmentalize my feelings, yet tonight when I sat down to write notes from the day, it hit me like a brick and I could not stop the tears.

Not only am I grieving for this man who will never return to “normal”…I’m grieving because this man has no support. In order to discharge someone from the acute care to inpatient therapy, there must be a person—family or friend—who will volunteer to care for the patient. And the reason Mr. Jones isn't in inpatient therapy yet is because no one will step up to claim him. No one will say, “yes, I’ll learn to take care of him because he can’t live on his own”. No one has come forth to say that they will help this man learn to live with this disability and so as a result, Mr. Jones lies in a hospital bed all day and night long waiting to see what his fate will be.

If no one steps up to claim him, he’ll fall through the cracks—meaning that he will probably be placed in a nursing home and end up contracted and unable to ever move on his own because without therapy, he will never regain the use of his right arm and leg.

So the real issue here is the support system. With a support system, Mr. Jones could lead a fairly decent, functional life. He can re-learn to walk and he can re-learn to dress himself and eventually he may even be able to drive! But without a support system, Mr. Jones will never be able to walk independently; he’ll never be able to feed himself or dress himself much less use the bathroom by himself.

And he’s so young! He potentially has another 30-40 years to live! But now he’ll be living with no purpose and no passion. This is one of the reasons suicide is so high among stroke patients. Their quality of life is drastically different than before.

So as I sit here tonight reflecting on my day and week in the acute care unit—my heart goes out to Mr. Jones and all the other Mr. Jones’ that exist in situations like this.

People, take care of your family—whether you like them or not. It truly does take a village to keep each other going; Take care of your friends; Remind yourself that in a blink of an eye, this could be you; Remind yourself not to take one single moment for granted—because the people that you love are going to experience disabilities and impairments and eventually death.

Mr. Jones, this goes out to you. Thank you for reminding me why I want to be a therapist. Thank you for reminding me not to take one single second for granted. Thank you for reminding me that my good health and ability to walk, sit, and run are denied to many. Thank you for reminding me that the human spirit and body are resilient beyond belief. Most of all, thank you for allowing me to re-learn this lesson: To hold tight to those you love—because tomorrow, all of that could change.