A homeless man. An autistic teen. And a dozen Alzheimer's patients. Of this I do not know what to make. They are three somewhat separate threads of experience, yet my mind keeps trying to find the ways they are interwoven. The encounters all occurred near the middle of our spring break on two of the days we were visiting family in South Carolina.
The Alzheimer's patients are the residents, most in varying stages of listlessness, that roamed the halls -- many like a walking track -- in the "Reminiscent Unit" of my father's assisted living facility. Last Monday, I helped my care-giving sister move my father from another part of the facility to this one. My sister explained my experiences with the residents were typical. They followed me to my father's room, often passing through the threshold close behind me. Passing them in the halls, some clutched baby dolls or stuffed animals. Some stopped and asked for directions. One, at first blush, a more lucid resident, asked me where was the exit. She assured me she was not a resident there. The longer we talked, the more I doubted her. She was a former nurse and sometimes, according to my sister, she offers to take visitor's vital signs. Other conversations with these people in this bizarre and seemingly surreal place spoke sentences of babble.
Then the teen with autism is my own daughter. With her by my side, there is another sense of living in a world just or more than just a hair off. Somewhere out there, there's a mother who has a child with autism, maybe two who is also taking care of an aging parent. God help 'em. While I grieve what has become of my sister's life, her leaving a 35-year successful teaching career because the demands of taking care of my parents -- and now of whom only my father remains -- I am grateful that I do not have to manage the emotional and physical demands of autism in addition to an aging parent.
And then the homeless man. While I escaped into the intense watercolor world of Andrew Wyeth, a new collection assembled at the Greenville County Museum of Art, my dear sister took my daughter to the charming and commendable downtown revitalization area including the Reedy River Falls Park. Watching the falls storm into the river, a visual crash and bang of sight and sound, with the March sun teasing her cheeks, my daughter sat on a park bench and rocked. So said my sister. Her glee of large and rapid repetitive movement accompanied by her own babble emitted with melody caught the attention of a homeless man. Without social boundaries himself, he stopped to assure her that it was all okay, and yes, "It was All Going to Be Alright." Yes. Indeed.
Yes, I know. I was hoping that you'd have somihteng to relate. I'm glad you did.He's been evaluated by Children's and I believe they are UPMC affiliated. T.D. has a 6th sense about people. He seems to know instantly if a person is a good or a bad person. Dr. W., the diagnosing doctor, is arrogant, abrasive, and generally intolerable when I've dealt with her one on one. T.D. was on his very worst behavior for the appointments. I guess she thought that was an everyday occurence.T.D. does not have screaming fits where I cannot identify the cause. He is emotional. When he is having a fit it is for these reasons: He didn't get what he wanted. He is hungry or tired. Or he needs special attention that day, like extra playtime or extra hugs or cuddles. He does have tactile sensory needs, pressure needs, and oral stimulation needs. But he is not sensory avoidant at all.I love him a whole lot. My whole life revolves around his, at the moment. I don't expect it to remain this way. He needs to get out and experience the world and make friends. I know he is capable of that. He is extremely friendly toward our adult friends and loves the company of other children. The only person he gives trouble are his immediate family. He is an angel for sitters and plays very well with other children. Amazingly well, LOL.I guess only time will tell in this case. But, I do plan on getting him into our local DART program and Wrap-Around servies to address his sensory and social needs.
Posted by: Power | July 06, 2012 at 05:32 AM
Thank you, Susan. I am honored that the artist who wrote Looking for Salvation at the Dairy Queen finds art in my own work. I am complimented highly.
Posted by: Leisa A. Hammett | March 24, 2009 at 08:52 PM
Beautifully written -- there is a tapestry here waiting for you to weave it together as only you can do -- mother, sister, daughter, artist.
Posted by: Susan Gregg Gilmore | March 24, 2009 at 06:22 PM