I have to go to a meeting today with Katie's agency.  Not sure what will happen which makes me anxious.  One of the guardians of Katie's roommate has complained about Katie.  The cannabis has failed to help her as much as we hoped it would.  I'm not sure why. 

When I was a young woman I worked at a place called Michener Centre.  It was an institution where people with mental disabilities were warehoused.  I worked on a women's unit.  There were forty-five women in each half of our building.  The building was two stories and there were eight or ten buildings on site.  It was a warehouse and as such had minimal staffing, maybe three or four staff per side.  Most of the clients/patients were kept drugged into oblivion, at least in my opinion.  They were drugged enough so that they would sit or pace all day in a locked room with forty-four other women.  They were drugged enough so that they would eat their meals quickly, thirty minutes to serve and feed ninety women, including two cups of coffee each.  They were drugged enough to sleep in huge dorm rooms.  It was an awful place and I only lasted a year there.  Everything was locked and all the staff carried big old fashioned skeleton keys.

I volunteered for every outing that there was, dances, swimming, walks, drives, you name it.  I tried but that place sucked the life out of both staff and clients.

And that's my worry with Katie.  I know times have changed but still in the back of my mind is a drugged woman, sitting in a chair, drooling, oblivious ot what is going on around her.  Drugged into submission because it's easier, because it's convenient.  It's why I fight so hard to find something that will allow Katie to be herself, to exist as herself.  There are two women in my mind.  The Miss Katie that I carried in my arms, the one who always smiled, and the Miss Katie who screams and cries and hits herself and others.  I can't reconcile the two. 

I want Katie to enjoy life.  I want her to be free of anxiety, as much as is possible.  I want her to be in public because she loves people.  I want her to be safe.  I want her to feel safe.  I just don't know how to do this. 

I had a young man as a patient yesterday.  He was not quite thirty.  He has Burkitt's lymphoma;  it is one of the fastest growing cancers and has a special fondness for the central nervous system.  He's partially paralyzed as a result of the cancer.

He came down to have a new central line put in and his old line pulled out.  He was a terrified little boy in the body of a heavily tattooed ex-con/drug addict.  It took a long time to get everything sorted out.  His platelets were low, there were questions that needed to be answered but we finally got him in the room.

I was ready not to like him.  When he first came to us another nurse had said he was kind of an ass.  But then I met him.  I talked to him.  I listened to him.  He wasn't an ass, he was just scared.  I imagine when he was first admitted he was pretty angry.  Nobody would believe him when he was complaining of symptoms while he was in jail.  Burkitt's lymphoma is a rare cancer, only 1-2% of all adult lymphomas.  Then he had severe back pain and partial paralysis.  And now he is with us.  We have three young men right now with Burkitt's and all are either partially or completely paralyzed.  They come to us and stay with us for months on end while they receive treatment.

I told him yesterday that this will be the hardest thing he will ever go through.  He is terrified of needles, terrified of pain.  I don't know what he's been through in his life but I'm guessing it can't have been good.  The last young man who was terrified of needles like that had found the body of his best friend's dad with a needle still hanging out of his arm.  That image has stayed with him his whole life.

Yesterday reminded me to not prejudge people.  I try and I fail and then I try some more.  We are such a messy species, us humans.  Perhaps wolves and elk are just as judgmental as us but they just don't beat themselves up over it.  Or maybe they do.  Who knows.  It's one of my traits that I most dislike about myself.  I know it's part of being human.  That judging is probably an old trait that helped keep us safe and probably still does but it's also a very poisonous trait that keeps us from truly seeing each other as the same.  Because we are all the same really.  We all have fears, pasts, wounds.  We all suffer, we just express it differently.  We all carry our past on our backs with us and it colors everything we say and do.

It's hard being human.

I'm liking my counselor.  She's older than me, a cancer survivor: she's also kind and wise.  We're talking about my childhood now which makes me cry.  I've always felt like a disappointment to my family, to my ex-husband, to my children, just kind of a failure in general.  I've made lots of mistakes in life, as have we all but I have defined myself by those mistakes instead of my accomplishments or strengths.

My counselor asked me a question on Wednesday which I had never asked myself before.  What do you like about yourself?

Here goes.

I have a very good sense of humor, all kinds of humor.
I'm hard working.
I'm willing to look at myself and my flaws.
I'm smart.
I love word play.
I love play in general, especially the kind little kids enjoy.
I'm compassionate.
I'm empathetic.
I'm loyal.
I love looking at the world.  My memory is all visual and I love just looking, soaking the world in.
I'm a good baker.
I'm a hugger.  The world always needs more huggers.
I love learning new skills.
I'm love to read and learn.
I'm quite willing to look foolish to make others more comfortable.  At work I often play the fool for my patients, to make them laugh.
I tend to love hard, if that makes any sense.  It does to me.  Fiercely might be a better word.


What do you like about yourself?  Please tell me.