Yeah, right....
Seems there are times instinct sometimes steps up & totally trumps training. Certainly did last night - the last Wednesday of the month.
Aka the night I take a jazz-loving grannie client into the very heart of Center City Philadelphia for the best jazz in the city. John's always with us, escorting her into the restaurant/jazz heaven while I park the car.
Last night didn't turn out the way any of us expected. Within 15 minutes of our drive, John was beset with a bit of incontinence. He had no idea when we left the house - crept up on him. He was sort of suspicious by the time we reached the grannie client's; certain sure by the time we got to Glenside.
That sure the kabosh on our plans. No way I was driving downtown, constantly worried I might have to locate a gas station, Wawa or 7 Eleven - FAST.
What to do?? Instead of going into town, took a lovely drive westward, all of us enjoying the magnificent cloudscapes & sunset ("Oh, look at all those... What do they call them?" "Contrails." "Oh,look at them!"), then back tracked to one of her favorite restaurants for dinner. It turned into a very pleasant evening.
Or so I thought.
About five minutes from her senior residence, my dear sweet lovely friend announced, in a firm, flat voice that chilled my heart, "Well, I don't want to do THAT evening again."
My heart sank & a sense of sadness swept over me.
"I'm so sorry. What didn't you like about the evening - the restaurant? the ride?"
"I don't know. I just never want to do THAT again."
That should have been my cue to reach out, to confirm the validity of her unhappiness, to reinforce the legitimacy of her disappointment, to say, "I understand. I was disappointed to miss hearing the jazz, too."
Everything I've read about working with challenged elders pointed me down the utterly compassionate, tender & understanding path.
Which was why I was stunned to hear come out of my mouth, "Well, that's rude."
Say what???
"Well," my g.c. responded, with a good bit of heat, "I tried hard to keep it in. I tried hard not to say anything."
And I heard myself whip back, "Well, it seems that you didn't try hard enough."
At which, she proclaimed, "Okay, I'm just not going to say anything."
That lasted for about ninety seconds.
From there to her residence, we had a bit of a back & forth, basically all rephrasings of the original exchange. She wouldn't take John's arm to go up to her apartment & when he shadowed her up (we always escort any grannie client who've had a cocktail), she kept looking back & announcing, "You can go now!"
On the ride home, I was mortified. How could I have gone SO totally off course? How could I have let my ego, at the heart of feeling wronged, get the better of me?
As we came through the front door, I was feeling about as low & unprofessional as I've ever felt.
Just a few steps into the house, the phone rang. Expecting a call back from my client's daughter (had left her a message while John shadowed her mom), I answered with a long, "Hullllll-looooooow."
"Hello. This is..." and my grannie client gave her full name. I snapped to, mouthing who it was to John.
Here it comes, I thought. Now, she will be all apologies, all of it conditioned with an utterly aggrieved, "...whatever it was I did wrong."
Instead, she opened with one of the best apologies I've received from anyone, ever.
"I want to apologize. You did everything you could to make the most of a disappointment. I was upset that we didn't go to hear the jazz. You were right - it was rude. I love John & I love you & I don't want this to come between us."
Who was the person on the other end of the phone? Every time there has been the slightest kerfluffle between the two of us, any apology has always been completely negated by her sense of having done something wrong, not knowing what it was, always trailing off into comments about feeling lost & alone, inevitably ending up with her strong general sense of being grievously mistreated.
Who was this person with the heart-felt, tender & lucid apology?!?
The call gave me the opportunity to say all the RIGHT things I'd talked over on the drive home. By the time I rang off, we were both in jolly moods & looking forward to making the monthly pilgrimage to our jazz mecca next week.
After hanging up, paused for a very long moment. What I'd said to her in the car, my response to her admittedly devastating comment, went totally against every elder care tenet learned over the years, particularly with olders facing the most serious challenges. Sheez - I'd held this dear fragile elderly friend responsible as I would a gal pal or John.
A YIKES! transgression of sound elder care apparently took my friend to a place that stunned me & awed her daughter, when we spoke later. She rose to the occasion.
Would love to say it was carefully thought out, that I realized the potential reward & knowingly accepted the risk. It wasn't, I didn't.
Here it is, almost 24 hours later & am still as clueless about those words as when they tumbled out, still no concept why I didn't immediately back peddle on hearing them. Guess that sometimes you have to trust a "feels right" response, even if it seems loony. Guess there always be times I've gotta trust, letting instinct & intuition trump training.
As one of the aforementioned granny client's children, I was astounded to hear that Mom's memory was functioning well enough for her to call Deev and make her apology. When I said so to my sister, she replied by pointing me to this blog post. I didn't even know Deev had a blog.
ReplyDeleteI am extremely impressed by Deev's attitude—not just here, but also in all she does with and for our mother. I'm humbled by the spirituality with which she approaches her chosen profession. I try to remember to acknowledge all she does for Mom, and thus for us, her children, whenever I have contact with her, but in fact no words can adequately express the gratitude I feel for what she does, for the companionship and nurturing she provides Mom. And I know my siblings agree. The best I can do is repeat another's words: “Well done, good and faithful servant!”