Healthy attitude
Our day got off to a pleasant start. We were expecting the physiotherapist at 10:00, so there was no time for lounging about. Gilly’s mood was great. His bright smile contagiously threw a ray of sunshine in my direction.
Anna arrived a few moments ahead of schedule, so by the time I emerged from the shower, she had already measured Gilly for a walker, and then a cane. She introduced herself to me as I entered the living room, and explained that the walker is not necessary, but the cane is recommended for greater stability. Gilly had already opened his mind to the idea of a cane when Cathy, the CSSS nurse was here, so I was glad to be shown the proper way to measure for height. I had asked her to leave the walker in the car when I spoke to her on the phone last week, explaining that it is a matter of dignity. I advised her not to bring it out unless she deems it necessary (which in the end she clearly felt it wasn’t). ERROR #1
She suggested putting lifts on the legs of our couches, so that getting out would be easier, but Gilly balked at the idea. “I have no trouble getting up, and I like to sit on my chair downstairs anyhow.” She took a stance that her recommendation would help anyone having to get up from the couch, not just him. She used this line of reasoning for many of her proposals, but Gilly wasn’t buying. He was onto her from the get go.
She forged ahead on her mission to ‘adapt’ our world by insisting on examining all of our household facilities. She moved down the first part of the staircase towards the basement and vehemently insisted he needs handrails at the top. "It's not just for you; it's a lawsuit waiting to happen," she said in jest. I would have to wholeheartedly agree with the recommendation, but I could see that her manner was getting Gilly’s back up in a way that I’ve not seen in recent months (since his illness was discovered). Less than a year ago, he redid those stairs himself and did a beautiful job. This was not working out the way I had envisioned it.
She entered his ‘private’ bathroom in the basement, and told him that if he needs the CLSC to come and bathe him, he’ll have to get rid of the shower doors and get a special bench…etc. This was a fatal error on her part, in my opinion (ERROR #2). She lost his confidence completely at that moment. Why did she start at the worst case scenario? She forgot to get to know him even just a little bit before jumping to what she apparently perceives as an inevitable circumstance.
This scenario may never come to be. If he should happen to reach that stage, we have a bathtub upstairs that he could bathe in that has no shower doors at all. She really could appraqoch the situation more creatively before tearing apart a person’s treasured domain. For now, he is nowhere near the stage of dependency in this refard, so why mention it at the outset of the visit? I found this to be a de-motivating approach, and you can just imagine what was running around Gilly’s mind.
She approached our bedroom and made light of the fact that she hardly knows him, and she’s already in his bedroom. Wrong audience for her humour. He demonstrated how he climbs in and out with ease upon her request. Again, she harped on the future by warning he may need a guardrail. ERROR #3
So it went, to the point that I wished she would make a quick exit. She finally sat down and asked what we need from her. Gilly answered, “Nothing. I’m fine.” She looked at me, and I gingerly replied, “I was hoping you could provide some suggestions to assist him in strengthening the right side of his body." It was at this point that she started asking questions about his physical condition. Bass ackwards, lady!!!
“Just go to an exercise class,” she stated plainly. “Or use a gym. Use it or lose it,” she laughed. ERROR #4. He looked at her as if to say, “You and what army?” He voiced his refusal to do anything of that nature. I tried to clue her into his personality and hobbies he enjoyed in the past, clarifying the reason I had asked for an O.T. to visit and provide some suggestions. I explained that he is not one to ‘exercise’ for the sake of ‘exercise.’ He’s a practical person, and believes that all activities need to have a purpose. He enjoys working hard, and he has never had the need to exercise outside of daily, physical activities. I asked if she could help him return to some of his favourite past times with adaptive equipment or ideas (like gardening, for instance) so as to promote more daily movement.
She turned to Gilly and asked, “What do YOU want?” He held up his right hand and described it as his main tool, which now has no strength and lacks coordination. This prevents him from opening jars, squeezing pliers…everything basically that requires hand movement or strength.
I reminded her about his brain tumor, appealing to her by stating that with proper exercises, perhaps other parts of his brain could take over some of the functions he has lost; perhaps they could somehow be activated / stimulated. I thought to myself, "Do I need to explain this to her?" She suddenly took an interest in my background. I explained that in my experience, O.T.’s and physiotherapists have done wonders for children with special needs. I’ve seen them in action and they have marvelous ideas. I outlined the reason I thought a person with her training should be able to help in this case, being that the brain stem is involved.
I asked if she had some specific exercises to recommend. She finally gave him a few exercises to do at home. He will need some weights and a ball (or something of that nature) to squeeze. She handed me a sheet with the names of suppliers for specialized equipment and off she went.
Gilly asked, “What did you think?” “I was not impressed.” I admitted apologetically. I felt responsible for this fiasco. “I’m glad to hear you say that,” he answered with relief. "I didn’t find her helpful at all.” I explained that we may have to go privately at this point, since the ‘free be’ was no bargain at all.
I will investigate further, to determine if I am correct in assuming that he needs an informed expert to follow him at least for the time being, to get him started on a productive exercise regime. I haven’t given up on the idea of an O.T. who could conceivably be creative in suggesting adaptations that may allow him to pursue some of his favourite past times in his current condition in a way that he would find gratifying.
Anna may be skilled as a physiotherapist / O.T., but she failed to reach her target. She missed the mark due to poor ‘people skills’ in my view. Getting to know Gilly first, just knowing this wonderful man even a wee bit may have set the stage for a better working relationship. Just a thought…
One positive result did come of Anna’s visit, though; a paradigm shift (Uncle Butch, Joey and Noam may giggle at my use of this term, but by golly it fits!). Gilly has been relaxing a lot (admittedly, to some extent as a necessity) because he is waiting for the treatment to be done so he can resume normal activities. He has the image of total recovery in the very near future (even though he has a year of chemo to come). Miracles do happen; people told they’ll never walk again (like my Grandpa Munia) end up defeating the odds. However, he cannot wait for the ‘perfect’ condition to return before getting busy again. He needs to become busier than he is now, and work directly towards ameliorating his physical limitations as best he can. He must begin to take control; keep his muscles limber and strengthen weak areas wherever possible. He opened up to this new way of thinking today, and plans to do the exercises she suggested.
The nurse who visited awhile back mentioned that Gilly may be ‘borderline depressed,’ which means on the verge of a depression. Apparently, this condition is very difficult to diagnose. His lack of usual feistiness and his unusual willingness to be idle (which is not in any stretch of the imagination close to his typical behaviour) could be a sign, she explained. I stored this information in the far reaches of my mind and never brought it up with anyone. Today I realized that Gilly's potential state of borderline depression was challenged. I believe he rose to the occasion and made the decision to take control of his fate by being proactive. Smiling and good humour is unquestionably vital, but affirmative action alongside this positive outlook is a winning combination.
Sheryl is thrilled to give up her adjustable cane and weights. It means she’s no longer in need of these supports (she broke her knee cap a few months ago, but has done her homework and so has moved onto heavier equipment). Thanks She!
For the better part of the early afternoon, Gilly sat in Yaron’s director’s chair on the front lawn and gave me step-by-step planting instructions. He couldn’t resist helping, but I discouraged it, since it requires bending his head downwards. He commended me on a job well done (a new habit I’m quite fond of). I now understand what attracts people to gardening (although my back is not fond of it, and I feel a rash coming on; what a kvetch, eh?).
We went off to have his blood taken on the seventh floor. It came as no surprise to discover that Halima neglected to give her penciled in change of blood test appointment to the staff. After parking the car I arrived to find Gilly on his way out with a dejected look on his face. I marched up to the desk and asked what the story was. I’m really getting pushy these days. I informed them that the radiation was changed for tomorrow to accommodate Dr. Kavan’s time, and questioned how the blood could be taken tomorrow without changing the radiation appointment yet again. The lady at the desk is clearly a divergent thinker; she sent us down to the test center, and blood work was done without delay. I took her name, and assured her that I plan to knock on her door as needed because she's on the ball. She smiled knowingly.
After the second to last dose of radiation (yahoo!!!), we met with Dr. Wan. He told us to make an appointment for 4 weeks from today, and gently assured Gilly he’d begin to feel better in a couple of weeks.
When we got home I stood on Phil and Debbie's doorstep across the street for a quick viewing of their sweet Elizabeth. I told them about Liylah and her weird shedding schedule. She shed her white fur first, and now she's dropping hair left and right mainly from her large black spot. Debbie wondered if it's because she's a mix. An interesting explanation I would never have thought of. Phil went on to suggest Omega - 3 pills to reduce shedding. I walked into the house and Gilly informed that Liylah had taken the margarine container from the counter (I guess I left it out accidentally) and took it to bed. On the cover of the container, it said Healthy Attitude with Omega - 3. I guess she's prone to self-medicating.
Last day tomorrow….What will we ever do with our time?
Anna arrived a few moments ahead of schedule, so by the time I emerged from the shower, she had already measured Gilly for a walker, and then a cane. She introduced herself to me as I entered the living room, and explained that the walker is not necessary, but the cane is recommended for greater stability. Gilly had already opened his mind to the idea of a cane when Cathy, the CSSS nurse was here, so I was glad to be shown the proper way to measure for height. I had asked her to leave the walker in the car when I spoke to her on the phone last week, explaining that it is a matter of dignity. I advised her not to bring it out unless she deems it necessary (which in the end she clearly felt it wasn’t). ERROR #1
She suggested putting lifts on the legs of our couches, so that getting out would be easier, but Gilly balked at the idea. “I have no trouble getting up, and I like to sit on my chair downstairs anyhow.” She took a stance that her recommendation would help anyone having to get up from the couch, not just him. She used this line of reasoning for many of her proposals, but Gilly wasn’t buying. He was onto her from the get go.
She forged ahead on her mission to ‘adapt’ our world by insisting on examining all of our household facilities. She moved down the first part of the staircase towards the basement and vehemently insisted he needs handrails at the top. "It's not just for you; it's a lawsuit waiting to happen," she said in jest. I would have to wholeheartedly agree with the recommendation, but I could see that her manner was getting Gilly’s back up in a way that I’ve not seen in recent months (since his illness was discovered). Less than a year ago, he redid those stairs himself and did a beautiful job. This was not working out the way I had envisioned it.
She entered his ‘private’ bathroom in the basement, and told him that if he needs the CLSC to come and bathe him, he’ll have to get rid of the shower doors and get a special bench…etc. This was a fatal error on her part, in my opinion (ERROR #2). She lost his confidence completely at that moment. Why did she start at the worst case scenario? She forgot to get to know him even just a little bit before jumping to what she apparently perceives as an inevitable circumstance.
This scenario may never come to be. If he should happen to reach that stage, we have a bathtub upstairs that he could bathe in that has no shower doors at all. She really could appraqoch the situation more creatively before tearing apart a person’s treasured domain. For now, he is nowhere near the stage of dependency in this refard, so why mention it at the outset of the visit? I found this to be a de-motivating approach, and you can just imagine what was running around Gilly’s mind.
She approached our bedroom and made light of the fact that she hardly knows him, and she’s already in his bedroom. Wrong audience for her humour. He demonstrated how he climbs in and out with ease upon her request. Again, she harped on the future by warning he may need a guardrail. ERROR #3
So it went, to the point that I wished she would make a quick exit. She finally sat down and asked what we need from her. Gilly answered, “Nothing. I’m fine.” She looked at me, and I gingerly replied, “I was hoping you could provide some suggestions to assist him in strengthening the right side of his body." It was at this point that she started asking questions about his physical condition. Bass ackwards, lady!!!
“Just go to an exercise class,” she stated plainly. “Or use a gym. Use it or lose it,” she laughed. ERROR #4. He looked at her as if to say, “You and what army?” He voiced his refusal to do anything of that nature. I tried to clue her into his personality and hobbies he enjoyed in the past, clarifying the reason I had asked for an O.T. to visit and provide some suggestions. I explained that he is not one to ‘exercise’ for the sake of ‘exercise.’ He’s a practical person, and believes that all activities need to have a purpose. He enjoys working hard, and he has never had the need to exercise outside of daily, physical activities. I asked if she could help him return to some of his favourite past times with adaptive equipment or ideas (like gardening, for instance) so as to promote more daily movement.
She turned to Gilly and asked, “What do YOU want?” He held up his right hand and described it as his main tool, which now has no strength and lacks coordination. This prevents him from opening jars, squeezing pliers…everything basically that requires hand movement or strength.
I reminded her about his brain tumor, appealing to her by stating that with proper exercises, perhaps other parts of his brain could take over some of the functions he has lost; perhaps they could somehow be activated / stimulated. I thought to myself, "Do I need to explain this to her?" She suddenly took an interest in my background. I explained that in my experience, O.T.’s and physiotherapists have done wonders for children with special needs. I’ve seen them in action and they have marvelous ideas. I outlined the reason I thought a person with her training should be able to help in this case, being that the brain stem is involved.
I asked if she had some specific exercises to recommend. She finally gave him a few exercises to do at home. He will need some weights and a ball (or something of that nature) to squeeze. She handed me a sheet with the names of suppliers for specialized equipment and off she went.
Gilly asked, “What did you think?” “I was not impressed.” I admitted apologetically. I felt responsible for this fiasco. “I’m glad to hear you say that,” he answered with relief. "I didn’t find her helpful at all.” I explained that we may have to go privately at this point, since the ‘free be’ was no bargain at all.
I will investigate further, to determine if I am correct in assuming that he needs an informed expert to follow him at least for the time being, to get him started on a productive exercise regime. I haven’t given up on the idea of an O.T. who could conceivably be creative in suggesting adaptations that may allow him to pursue some of his favourite past times in his current condition in a way that he would find gratifying.
Anna may be skilled as a physiotherapist / O.T., but she failed to reach her target. She missed the mark due to poor ‘people skills’ in my view. Getting to know Gilly first, just knowing this wonderful man even a wee bit may have set the stage for a better working relationship. Just a thought…
One positive result did come of Anna’s visit, though; a paradigm shift (Uncle Butch, Joey and Noam may giggle at my use of this term, but by golly it fits!). Gilly has been relaxing a lot (admittedly, to some extent as a necessity) because he is waiting for the treatment to be done so he can resume normal activities. He has the image of total recovery in the very near future (even though he has a year of chemo to come). Miracles do happen; people told they’ll never walk again (like my Grandpa Munia) end up defeating the odds. However, he cannot wait for the ‘perfect’ condition to return before getting busy again. He needs to become busier than he is now, and work directly towards ameliorating his physical limitations as best he can. He must begin to take control; keep his muscles limber and strengthen weak areas wherever possible. He opened up to this new way of thinking today, and plans to do the exercises she suggested.
The nurse who visited awhile back mentioned that Gilly may be ‘borderline depressed,’ which means on the verge of a depression. Apparently, this condition is very difficult to diagnose. His lack of usual feistiness and his unusual willingness to be idle (which is not in any stretch of the imagination close to his typical behaviour) could be a sign, she explained. I stored this information in the far reaches of my mind and never brought it up with anyone. Today I realized that Gilly's potential state of borderline depression was challenged. I believe he rose to the occasion and made the decision to take control of his fate by being proactive. Smiling and good humour is unquestionably vital, but affirmative action alongside this positive outlook is a winning combination.
Sheryl is thrilled to give up her adjustable cane and weights. It means she’s no longer in need of these supports (she broke her knee cap a few months ago, but has done her homework and so has moved onto heavier equipment). Thanks She!
For the better part of the early afternoon, Gilly sat in Yaron’s director’s chair on the front lawn and gave me step-by-step planting instructions. He couldn’t resist helping, but I discouraged it, since it requires bending his head downwards. He commended me on a job well done (a new habit I’m quite fond of). I now understand what attracts people to gardening (although my back is not fond of it, and I feel a rash coming on; what a kvetch, eh?).
We went off to have his blood taken on the seventh floor. It came as no surprise to discover that Halima neglected to give her penciled in change of blood test appointment to the staff. After parking the car I arrived to find Gilly on his way out with a dejected look on his face. I marched up to the desk and asked what the story was. I’m really getting pushy these days. I informed them that the radiation was changed for tomorrow to accommodate Dr. Kavan’s time, and questioned how the blood could be taken tomorrow without changing the radiation appointment yet again. The lady at the desk is clearly a divergent thinker; she sent us down to the test center, and blood work was done without delay. I took her name, and assured her that I plan to knock on her door as needed because she's on the ball. She smiled knowingly.
After the second to last dose of radiation (yahoo!!!), we met with Dr. Wan. He told us to make an appointment for 4 weeks from today, and gently assured Gilly he’d begin to feel better in a couple of weeks.
When we got home I stood on Phil and Debbie's doorstep across the street for a quick viewing of their sweet Elizabeth. I told them about Liylah and her weird shedding schedule. She shed her white fur first, and now she's dropping hair left and right mainly from her large black spot. Debbie wondered if it's because she's a mix. An interesting explanation I would never have thought of. Phil went on to suggest Omega - 3 pills to reduce shedding. I walked into the house and Gilly informed that Liylah had taken the margarine container from the counter (I guess I left it out accidentally) and took it to bed. On the cover of the container, it said Healthy Attitude with Omega - 3. I guess she's prone to self-medicating.
Last day tomorrow….What will we ever do with our time?
posted by Gilly at 8:36 PM
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