givemeabreak's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Winter Formal On Monday my co-workers and I had to wrestle all of the residents of our group home into �formal� clothing and head to a snazzy hotel in town for dinner and dancing. I know that sounds so simple, and yet so incredibly challenging. First and foremost, those of us working forgot it was a formal event, so we proudly wore the disheveled and slightly stained garb of group home life. When I really sit and think about it, I am damn glad that I didn�t wear any nice clothes because they would have been ruined within the first 15 minutes of our trip. You must understand one thing above all else: Everything related to getting residents into the �Big Bertha Handy Bus� is time consuming, difficult, and requires you to bend yourself in ways that would make any gymnast envious. The event was scheduled to start at 6:00 p.m. � we started boarding the bus around 4:45 p.m., which seemed like a logical time to begin the time consuming process. We had three residents in regular bench seats, two residents in wheelchairs, then 3 staff on board including me. By the time we got to the hotel it was 6:30!!! Why you ask? Inevitably something happens that you don�t plan for and voila everything is a mess. Our mess for the night was the portable oxygen tank which kept falling off the back of one of the wheelchairs. I swear you have to be a master in Origami arts to figure out how to put the damn thing on. Every time it fell off the resident would scream in his booming voice, �OUCH � MY PAIN!� Let�s be realistic here, the only thing attached to him is the tubing which goes into his nose. The tubing is about 8 feet in length, so unless we decided to toss that fucking tank out the safety window and let it drag behind the bus you are not going to feel any pain. He screamed the entire ride. It was loads of fun. We finally get to our destination and whip Big Bertha into the circle drive. The bellhop comes up to us and tells us we cannot unload here but need to drive around back and use the back entrance. What the hell is that all about? So, we whip around the corner only to see that there is all this construction and no way in hell were we going to fit into any postage stamp sized space, not to mention we would have had to push the wheelchairs about 50 yards to the back door, which as it turns out was all stairs � I guess they have not heard of the ADA. Bastards. So I tell Tracey (my co-worker driving) to take us back to the front and that we are unloading there no matter if they like it or not. I jump out and deploy the handy ramp and begin to unload the residents. Tracey at this point has decided to permanently park in the circle drive and doesn�t care if the bellhop and snatchy hotel workers like it or not. So we have our wheelchair rodeo in tow and begin to maneuver the double set of glass doors. Yet again, not handicap accessible�shame, shame, shame. I had no idea I was so agile, limber and coordinated. I was able to hold the inside door with my right foot, balance on my left leg, grab the other glass door with my left arm and then hustle chairs through with my right hand. After about 30 seconds of this � I finally shout to the gang of bellhops, �do you think you could help us with the door?� I tried not to sound too snatchy, but I don�t think I was very successful. You have to ask yourself why they didn�t think of it themselves. It was quite obvious we were struggling. We FINALLY get to the dinner. We breach the doors only to see that everyone is sitting down at cozy round tables with Christmas music playing sweetly while the deejay is looking for just the right Perry Como hit to play next. The only table left was one way up in the corner of the hall. We were grateful for the seating, but getting there proved to be yet another challenge. We had to go across the dance floor winter coats in tow, oxygen tank falling off, all the tables looking at us, and feeling really silly having on work clothes as opposed to cool dressy threads. By this time I am ready to pack it all up and head back to the house. It was like a bad family vacation. In order to do an outing like that, you have to take medications, spoons for the medications, thickener for liquids for residents who need that, a cooler with food that was prepared at home in the food processor in case the venue cannot puree foods for two of the residents. It felt like the never ending night. After all the hoopla drama of dinner my intestinal nightmare kicked in. I practically sprinted across the empty dance floor, scooted out the main door and high tailed it into the restroom. Immediately I go into the handicap stall. I always go in the handicap stall. I like the space it�s roomy. I hate having those nasty tampon trash things rubbing your thigh, not to mention having the toilet paper mounted about 3� from the floor. So as I sat there having yet another parasitic explosive diarrhea attack, I began to worry. Here I was at a function provided for people living with disabilities � and I as a member of said staff am using the handicap bathroom stall when indeed I am NOT handicapped. I said a small prayer that no one would come in and thankfully, that was my Christmas miracle. As I was walking back to the banquet room I could hear music, not boring old Christmas music, but dance music. I came into the hall and the dance floor was full of people dancing and it was one of the most wonderful things I have ever seen. I started to laugh uncontrollably, the residents were awesome. They were going around the dance floor in train fashion to the beat of �come on ride the party train�� As I sat at my table watching with sheer amazement and of course amusement (apparently, a lot of staff cannot dance), if someone had told me a year ago that I would be doing this kind of work and sharing these magnificent experiences, I would never have believed them in a hundred years. I think that is the one part of my job I love the most, no matter how hellish or hectic the day can be, there is always some aspect of the day that makes you smile, cry (for joy) and feel genuinely happy to be a part of their family.
12:57 a.m. - Friday, Dec. 12, 2003 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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