Adult Day Care: Set in Their Ways

Day 16

"She's only a volunteer. She can move." One client said to the other with a wave of her hand. I had mistakenly sat in the wrong chair. How was I to know it was reserved for a purse? C glared at me as her purse helplessly brushed against the tiled floor. It was only my second week at the adult day care. I hadn't realized the order in which clients and their luggage were to be placed. So, I quietly brushed it off and moved over to the next table. In the following weeks, I became more aware (and quite interested) of the pecking order the clients had created. Despite the cramped space at the table, some of the women always made room for extra chairs for their most prized possessions to rest their handles and rusted zippers and clutches.

One of the older clients unknowingly made the same mistake I had made the week before. Despite Ms. C's hovering, M did not look up to see the bewildered look on C's face. The nerve of her to sit there and worse, she did not jump up the moment C walked in the door with her purse lazily hanging on the crook of her arm. If the large, plastic of M's hearing aides didn't give it away surely her bowed head and slumbering form would have when she didn't move? With the angry little buzz of C's voice in her ear, M woke up and didn't think it was necessary to get up. It took no time at all for the group next to them to come to M's aide. At first, C forcefully tried to move her but with no avail. This did not bode well with the ever growing audience this little "spat" had stirred. Voices began to rise and someone got up to come to her rescue but was held back. Immediately following and her potential rescuer unbeknownst to her, M gave up and relinquished her chair to the purse. A group of ladies from across the room sympathized over the situation and allowed M to slowly make her way to their table.

You could cut the tension with a knife. It slowly subsided when the CNA went over to assess the damage and calm C down. After everyone had settled down, it became the latest gossip for the new arrivals who had missed it. Sides were taken and every now and then dirty looks were thrown around the room.

Believe it, or not, this was a very big deal to them. No matter how trivial it sounds, it meant a lot to *C that her comforts and routines not be messed with or changed in any way.

Adult Day Care

I don't write nearly enough. I would love to believe I had a reason for not doing so (a busy life, ever expanding social life, and so on), but that is far from the case. It's not like I sit on my ass all day with nothing to do either. I work in the mornings and early afternoons at an adult day care. That should say it all, am I right? Surprisingly enough, it has its perks. The last thing I expected was to be working with the elderly.

It isn't a back breaking job. It includes serving coffee/food, conversing, and helping with various activities (arts and crafts, cooking, presentations). Basically, my job is to keep everyone happy, comfortable, and busy. My clients or rather the centers clients are respectable individuals. Adult day cares aren't necessarily for those who can no longer take care of themselves and for family members to dump them on someone else (an assumption I made years ago before I even thought I'd get this part time job).

I will say that there have been moments where I have gotten a run for my money. Haha. I've learned to never underestimate someone despite them looking frail and disoriented. I learned this after having to guard the patio door for nearly two hours with the risk of being hit by an elderly woman half my size and a skip in her step.

When I wasn't performing my duties as body guard, I was privileged enough to be there when a tear or two were shed for someone who was leaving. One of the sweetest men I've been blessed enough to meet became teary eyed when we got the news that one of our staff would no longer be working with us in a weeks time. It's moments like these that remind me that people like him still exist. Not a day has gone by that he doesn't walk in with a smile on his face and a willingness to be there.

To sum it up, I love my job. Some days aren't nearly as rewarding but that's life. I may not express my appreciation for these types of things, but I wouldn't change them for anything. Adult day cares aren't everyone's cup of tea, but it's given my a chance to open a few new doors in what I would like to do when I graduate in two years. Serving coffee and doing arts and crafts may not be a dream job, but the little things you do for another person can make that much of a difference.

Baby Girl: Given Up

At 4:26 AM on the thirteenth of July 1991, a baby was born. 6 lbs 4 oz. A healthy, thriving baby girl took her first cries. She was surrounded by love in that hospital room that day. The sun hadn’t even come up in the cool, quiet city of Jackson, Mississippi.

As her mother held her she knew her love wasn’t enough for her baby girl. Love couldn’t give her what she needed. The mother, Sarah, whispered in her baby’s ear; a sweet, melancholy tune the baby would never remember. She didn’t have what she needed to keep her daughter, but where was the father?

He didn’t know about his baby girl. He still was grieving the abortion because she was his first and only biological child. It would be a year and a small picture later before he would find out the truth. By then, his baby girl had been whisked away to a loving adopted family across the country. He would never get to hold her.

Meanwhile, Sarah treasured the last few hours she would get with her small gift from God. Her tears hit the now slumbering baby like bullets. No one else existed. It was just Sarah and her baby girl. This was their moment. As if the baby knew it was their last moments together, she awoke. With a small yawn, her eyes slowly opened and peered up at her mother. She looked up quizzically as a tear softly rolled off her mothers chin and landed on her cheek. She looked as if she were about to say, “We’ll see each other again some day.” Those big, beautiful brown eyes said it all. Only three days old now and she knew.

It was time. Sarah looked up. To her dismay, the social worker was walking up to the bed with paper and pen in hand. Legalities now? She still had rights to her baby girl. She was still Sarah’s. God knew how much she didn’t want to sign those papers. Hands shaking and tears streaming, Sarah took the pen. Her vision blurred and the words seemed to run together. That was it. She had to sign it. It wasn’t for her. As her heart broke that day, she finally signed her rights away to a new family.

By this time, the baby’s new parents were waiting anxiously out in the waiting area to see their new daughter. Two worlds were about to merge...





---Non-Fiction story I've begun. *Names have been changed for respect of privacy. There will be frequent changes because it isn't finished.

Gaurdian Angel: My Regret

The searing pain that shoots up the back of my legs gets worse every time. This wall is my lifeline. The stares I get pierce through me like the cold ice that I skate on. A father and his son step out from my shadow. I have no choice; I must move away from the wall. As my fingertips lingered on the edge, I crashed down onto the ice. A familiar face appears from the throng of people. “Do you need help?” he offered. Without hesitation, he seemed to appear every time I fell. Stubbornly, I waved him off as I struggled to stand. By now I was soaked to the bone.

Each time I fell, time stood still. It took twice as long for me to stand up straight. An hour had passed since I had arrived for the party. I never would have pictured myself putting on a pair of ice skates and clumsily stepping out onto the ice. With the encouragement of my friends, I’d reluctantly picked out a size eight pair of skates. Dreading my time on the ice, I hadn’t realized the skates were a size too big and slowly strapped them on. It looked easy enough. Crowds of people had come to the rink and the rick filled up quickly. At least half of the masses were made up of children, most of them no older than 10. A group of them gracefully glided past me. If these young, vibrant faces could pull this amazing feat off, why couldn’t I?

For a moment, I felt invincible. I carefully placed my left foot forward onto the ice and then the right foot followed. I completely forgot that I was wearing skates and the ground beneath me was ice; I confidently entered the ice skating rink. No sooner had I done this, I was sprawled out on the ground. The time it took me to fall --- no more than two seconds --- I’d realized that I couldn’t skate. It was as if I had watched myself fall. My left skate continued to slide forward, while my right skate inched backwards. In a split second, I fell backwards and landed hard on the ground below. The pain shot up my backside like fire. I had a vague idea that falling would hurt, but not like that. I was in too much of a daze to think about the people around me. Slowly my vision came back. Someone said something, but I could barely hear him or her. “Are you alright?” they said. “What?” My mind spun. I looked around. “Are you alright, miss?” they repeated. I looked up and a boy around my age looked down at me with a smirk on his face. “Huh? I mean yes I’m alright,” I answered. Only a minute or two had passed since I had fallen. It was more than obvious that I was a beginner. I thanked him and clumsily I made my way back to the sidewall. I fell three more times. In a heartbeat, my brown haired, blue-eyed rescuer was there. The light that reflected off of his glasses only intensified the spark in his eye. His intentions were genuine and that smile said it all. I kick myself for not taking his hand. Eventually, I made it back to my lifeline.

A five year old could skate circles around me (at least 50 or more had that day). It was embarrassing enough that I couldn’t skate, but I had a complete stranger appear out of nowhere every time I fell. I’m thankful he was there, but I was too stubborn to give up when I fell the first time. As I clung to the wall I thought, “How am I going to get myself out of this one?” No sooner did this cross my mind; I heard a familiar voice behind me. “Are you alright?” he said.

----To this day, I regret not taking his hand.