Happy Ending

Maybe 10 years ago or so, I was working night shift at a customer service call center. It was not a fun job. I was tired all the time. Two of the supervisors were just plainly women who were mean to other women.

I had friends on night shift. One of the women was young, and I felt terrible for her. She had five children at home, young ones and she always just looked exhausted. We began to talk, and she began to confide. I was horrified to find out that her husband was a drug user. He was also abusing her.

I worried about her and her children terribly, and I tried to be encouraging, but she was defeated. She simply could not imagine what she would do without him. She couldn't handle the children alone. She had a list of reasons why she could not leave. I personally think that she was so exhausted, she couldn't see clearly.

I tried to use my own experience to tell her that things work out that she just needed to take that first step, that it was not good for the children to remain in such a bad situation. I offered to help, to babysit.  We spent many a night between phone calls talking and talking. Praying too.

Things began to get worse and worse for her, dangerous actually, and then suddenly, she was gone. It turned out that she had to go on a different shift to be home with her children at night. I heard she left her husband. Then I left the company to go chase mosquitoes, and I never saw her again.

Today at the gym I saw a girl with blonde hair, a dazzling smile, deeply tanned. She was wearing a black leotard and walked with confidence. I was hauling my middle aged sweaty self to retrieve my keys, and pass card, and suddenly I stopped.

"Hi!" I said. She looked so gorgeous close up that I couldn't be sure, but I said, 'Didn't you used to work at ...." and she said, "Yes." I said, "You know, I don't know if you remember me or not..." and she said, "Of course I do," and she smiled back at me.

We talked briefly. I told her how wonderful she looked and I was so glad to see it. She said, "I had one problem. I just had to get rid of it. When I did, it all worked out just fine."

I smiled. "I love a happy ending, and I am so glad that you got yours."

Happy Day

I was getting ready for bed Saturday night when I heard the unmistakable sound of the back door opening. I hissed to Tim, "Someone just walked in the house!" and Tim said, unperturbed, "Well, you'd better go check it out."

I knew then that he was in on it, and I went in to the kitchen to see Cara with a bouquet of flowers. "Surprise!" she said. "Happy Mother's Day!"

It was exciting. William was already here, sound asleep. He had a very busy day. That morning, he had cried like crazy when I vacuumed. I had been pondering the idea for a while, but I said, "William, we're going shopping." He looked very interested. I said, "We're going to get William a vacuum cleaner of his very own." And he got very still. He looked at me and said, in the most reasonable little voice, "Memaw. I don't like vacuum." Then he added helpfully, "Like truck."

We went to the store. We bought a very realistic vacuum. Well. Realistic except for the color. It even is battery operated and makes a humming noise. William was hugely excited about the box and held it tightly all through the store, talking non-stop. When we got it home and took it out of the box, well, he cried and scrambled for the couch. After he sat on my lap for awhile, he decided it was safe enough. He began to play with it. And then he said, "Memaw? This not your vacuum, (pointing to himself) this Willnan vacuum." And I said that it was. He stood there and he said, "Memaw?" And I said, "Yes, William?" and he said, "I LIKE this vacuum." He cracks me up.

William was here, asleep, and now Cara was home.

The next day after church, I made pepperoni rolls to celebrate. Buddy and Brianna came to join us. Mike stopped in after work. I got more flowers and cards than anyone had a right to.

At the end of the day, Cara was drinking coffee to wake up for her drive home. I was putting the kitchen back to rights. She said, "Sit down." I said, "Just a minute..." and she said, "I'm only here for a short time. Savor the moment."

She was right.

 I did.

Mountaintop Week.

Life is a real mixed bag, isn't it?

I've had my struggles, and I've tried to be unflinching about them here. It's been a difficult spring, humiliating. Raised a lot of doubts, but this week has been one mountaintop experience after another. I see things. I notice.

Today, I discovered, quite by accident, how to stimulate finger flexion/extension in a hand that has barely functioned. I watched in awe as her fingers opened and closed, opened and closed. That was quite a write up.

Today, I was asked my opinion on someone that is supposed to be sensory defensive, yet as I walked in, I saw that the very opposite was true. He is sensory seeking. I knew it. I saw it immediately. I pointed this out to the staff and demonstrated my theory. They watched, and they talked between themselves. They saw that I was right. It changes the entire treatment plan. That was another write up.

Today, I was scrambling to get all my data entered, because it was crazy busy. Crazy. I worked like a mad woman, and got it all done.

As I darted by a room, I heard an employee talking to another employee. "That is a really, REALLY smart girl! Wow!" With a shock, I realized that I was overhearing a conversation about myself.

I did a little stutter step, regained my composure, and continued down the hall.

I felt like I saw a me I never saw before.

Professional

You know, having my hours cut at work was the most devastating thing. It was a confusing time. The events that played out were simple: I was not liked. Stupid things, really, that could have been sorted out, but the clinic is very clique-y. You either fit or you don't.

It's a terrible thing, to know that you don't fit, especially when you are trying so hard to fit because you love the job so very much.

It's an even worse thing at the end of it all, to have someone walk into your office and hand you a paper that says your hours have been cut. In disbelief, you look at it. You realize that at least one person in a position of power has lied about you, and you point that out. You tell her that the only written documentation that you've ever received is that you are doing an excellent job. Her response was to say that your work with the clients was "spot on". She sat quietly, looking at your shocked face, and then said, "Would you like me to close the door when I leave?" And she left.

It was a hard thing to decide what to do next. The humiliation of having your hours cut and to be 'in the sights' of the person running the show is a big deal. The other clinicians are perfunctory and short. They care about their jobs and do not want the person running the show to think they are 'on your side'.

I decided to stay, and to work my best and to see what happened next.

I have worked, and I have worked hard. I have learned that I am excellent with clients. I have learned that in my own heart. My opinion is not dependent on the opinion of anybody else. I am almost 56 years old. For 55 years, the opinions of others have mattered a great deal to me.

I have had moments so breathtakingly perfect that I cannot even tell you. Imagine having a violent non-verbal profoundly disabled person vocalize and scream and come at you. He is not a client. He is someone that I am sneaking time with, because I had a suspicion that I could help. He charged me, and I braced myself because he has attacked before. He stops, making his strange and agitated noises, and stares. I stared at him, trying to anticipate. When his face stilled, I knew. I reached my arms wide, and said, "Do you want a hug?" He came into my arms and leaned heavily against me, and we stood in the middle of the room and I rocked him back and forth gently, my hands running up and down his arms to provide proprioceptive input. The room staff, poised to intervene, stood by as I crooned to him and rocked him. He doesn't have words, but he came to me for comfort, and I was sharp enough, calm enough to recognize it.

I am good.

I am so good that while I work full time filling in for a co-worker on maternity leave, staff at the facilities that I service have begun to come to me for assistance. Yesterday, I stopped typing, and I went straightaway to a client who was having an aggressive episode. I sat at the table in an informal group session and talked and played with them. My focus was on one person, but he did not realize that. I am firm with him, and in the end, he says, "Thank you."

I am very good.

I have offers of hours to fill the hours that I have lost. I have offers that will, potentially, put me in the awkward position of perhaps having to choose where I will work. Will this pan out perfectly? I don't know, but I have a suspicion that it will. No matter what, it is a huge joy to discover that others see something in me that they covet for their own teams.

In the end, we will see. Other doors have opened up...the chance to work privately with a disabled child. The chance to counsel women making the transition from jail to the real world. The opportunity to work with an elderly gentleman. All these things will more than make up for what I have lost.

Know why? Because I am very, very good at what I do.

This week, I found myself speaking with a supervisor. Up to now, this has been difficult. I am always trying to be professional,  choking back unprofessional frustration. This time it is different. I said, "When am I to be cut back to part time?" She did not know. "How is this transition to be made? Does she come back one day and I am done? Is there a handing off period as there was when I took over?" She did not know.

We stood there, two professional women in my office. We discussed the patients that I am seeing informally. We discussed the importance of not turning our backs on them. We discussed the fact that people want me to work for them and they are pressing to know my availability.

She said, "You are right, I need to find this out."

She left my office. I stood there watching her go. There was no sting.

The Future

Today, I saw a cool thing. I was at the gym, working away, when I noticed him, a boy in the farthest corner walking on a treadmill. He walked steadily, his head bouncing from one side to another as he stepped it out, never stopping.

He was 15 maybe. He was round, and he was short. Plain, with big glasses. He was the kind of kid that you know for a fact takes a lot of crap at school.

I plodded along behind him, off to the side, and I watched him.

He never faltered. He never looked up.  He never slowed down or missed a step. He kept his eyes on his screen, watching his numbers. Heart rate, distance, incline, speed, calories burned... And that boy walked on.

I wondered about his life, because I am a curious person ~ sounds much nicer than 'nosy' doesn't it? ~ how a boy with a difficult life summons up the wherewithall to march himself into a fitness center and work out. He was alone. There was no one there to encourage him. He plodded on steadily driven by his own will.

He had been hard at it when I walked in the door. The tips of his hair were already dripping sweat. He finished when I was well over 20 minutes into my own workout. He carefully and thoroughly disinfected his machine, and then he changed his shoes and walked out the door.

God bless his little cotton socks, as they say.

I watched him walk across the parking lot, his head down, his pace as steady as if he were still on that treadmill, and you know, suddenly I felt very hopeful about our future.