SLP 101

What an interesting first day! I admit, I did not want to get out of bed this morning. I was a pissypants while I was getting ready. Still, I arrived ten minutes early at 9:20am (hair and makeup done, which - during this time of the year - is unheard of for me), signed in, grabbed my name tag, and hopped on an elevator. I was on my way to the memory care unit of a local geriatric rehabilitation center.

When the doors to the third floor opened, I was a little startled. I walked directly into an open area with scattered tables and chairs, and it was full of wheelchair-bound elderly folk. A nurse’s station or reception area was nowhere in sight. There were, at most, two seemingly unenthused nurses sitting around.

I walked over to the food station, and asked the woman working there if she knew where the activities coordinator was. She did not, but was very sweet and helpful, and looked for her on several occasions.

Long story short, I was sitting in the piano lounge area for a half an hour waiting for the activities coordinator, helping a resident take off her sweater and holding her glasses. She folded her sweater up in her lap and was using it as a pillow. I was on the verge of doing the same with my jacket.

Finally, the activities coordinator arrived. She is a cute, tiny, peppy woman with a fun short haircut and braces. I am not cute or peppy, and I had difficulties with the WIDE EYE CONTACT. She was very nice and patient with me while showing me the ropes, which included a news article discussion pow-wow and wheeling residents in for worship service afterward. From my limited experience, the elderly come in three molds: the first is willing and able to chat with you, often happy to have the company. The second couldn’t give a damn whether you’re there or not, and would probably prefer that you weren’t. Often grumpy, or aloof. The third is on a different planet… non responsive or incoherent. I did say my experience was limited, right? All three “molds” were seated near me within the discussion group. I tried to get a slightly grumpy and very uninterested (tired?) Don* to warm up to me by asking him about the contents of the pictures he was looking at.

Me: “Do you like to cook, Don*?”
(stern, or maybe confused, look from Don*)
(blank look back from me, as I’m realizing that’s probably a stupid question to ask a wheelchair-bound geriatric rehabilitation resident)
Don*: “I like to eat.”
Me: “I do, too.”
Don*: (checking me over) “I can eat more than you.”
Me: “I don’t know about that, Don*. You’d be surprised at how much I can put away (patting my gut).”

He let out big laughs, and I felt pretty accomplished. We agreed to have an eating contest in the indefinite future.

I was then informed of my duties by the activities coordinator. From 9:30-10:30, I will be pairing the residents into discussion groups based upon cognitive abilities, and then leading one of the groups. Basically, we will be printing off news articles, reading them (or guiding one of the residents to read it - though, as one resident duly pointed out to the activities coordinator: “This text is too small!”), and encouraging discussion. After this, I am to help the coordinator wheel twenty or so residents in to the main area, move around tables and chairs, and prepare for the chaplain’s service by handing out printed-off hymns, etc.

A wonderful surprise in all of this is that an SLP joined us for the discussion group. She seemed excited that I was looking to become an SLP, and invited me into her therapy group once I had finished helping the activities coordinator prepare for the worship hour.

I can’t say for certain, but observing/participating in the SLP’s therapy group may be a regular part of my volunteer hours. Geeked!

There are stories to tell from my first day, but this post is already long so I’ll stick to one that melted my heart:

I wheeled a resident back to her room after the therapy session. She said, “Oh, there’s a chair right there… you can just go ahead and pull that up next to me, and we’ll watch TV!” I told her I would love to, but that I had a work shift beginning soon. Both true statements. She did manage to get me to sit with her for 10 minutes, while she told me stories. I found out she was from Boston (marvelous vowels) and that her mother came over to the United States from Ireland when she was fourteen years old, with nothing but a small bag.

It was a great first day, and there were of course sad events. One of the residents was in pain and was crying out before being given painkillers. Another resident, just before the worship hour, started crying and screaming for help, saying that she wasn’t supposed to be there, that she had to get back to her room immediately. But that was all, and the activities coordinator did not fail to mention that I had caught everyone on a good day.