TRY MY O.T. WAYS

By Christine Harness OTR-L

A collection of many enlightening experiences enjoyed throughout Christine's occupational therapy career with other recommendations toward developing a positive lifestyle.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Page Publishing, Inc.
• Release date: Nov 13, 2020
• ISBN: 9781644623718

Book preview

You-Guys

Ever so often, I find the need to indulge myself in dwelling on things that annoy me. I do realize no one likes to hear me expound on some of these annoyances, but I really need to do this; it provides some kind of catharsis for me, and I know that most of you probably pay little or no attention to these. On the top of my list is the common practice of the waitress who repeatedly refers to us as you-guys. What would you-guys like to drink? she asks as though as a unit, we will give her one answer. And then, to further irk me, she adds I’ll take ‘you-guyzzes’ drink order first. Where did this come from? I guess I need to replace my old dictionary with a late edition; maybe there are new definitions for these. I always thought the definition of guy is a slang for man or boy. And trying to pluralize you-guys grates on my nerves.

And then there’s the I/me rule. Every time I hear someone say something like He gave it to my husband and I. No, he didn’t give it to I; he gave it to me. I find myself compelled to correct them, or at least mumble the correction to myself. Is it so hard to remember what we learned about correct use of pronouns? The nominative case includes I, he, she, we, and they. We use these as subjects of sentences. Me, him, her, us, and them are all pronouns of the objective case, and we use these as objects of sentences.

I read somewhere that slang, new words or old words in new uses, are adopted because they seem clever and colorful. High school students are fond of slang and ingenious at inventing it. Sometimes a slang word becomes so completely acceptable it becomes widely used as informal English. Is this where we are with you-guys? Unrelated to all this preoccupation with grammar, I also recently learned something that might interest those of you who brag about being good at multitasking. You might want to know that new studies show the practice of multitasking is very inefficient, often causing you to make serious errors; it does not allow you to consider all aspects of your tasks. Your brain is happiest when you allow it to think about one thing at a time, moving on to each aspect systematically and avoiding serious omissions, which might affect your judgment and the outcome of the process.

Bed Rest and Deconditioning

Bed rest is defined as being restricted to bed for medical purposes. A physician may prescribe bed rest and immobility for a person in order to promote medical stability. Multiple trauma, bums, deep vein thrombosis, and pulmonary embolism are some examples of such diagnoses requiring restricted bed rest. Pneumonia and deep vein thrombosis are among the most publicized examples often resulting.

We know that all body systems are negatively affected by extended bed rest, so doctors and therapists try to gauge as well as limit such confinement. Along with the debilitation, patients’ emotional and psychological conditions are negatively affected. This continuous pattern of inactivity too often allows for hyperfocus on negative feelings including exaggerated pain.

Therapists are key players, prepared to intervene in prevention of this negative trend with patients. As soon as we have medical approval, we begin the patient on a graduated routine of increasing activity participation. Along with nursing staff, we work to get the patient into a stable upright position for the frequent need to administer medications and encourage maximal intake of liquids and foods to speed up recovery. We instruct the patient to learn and use the bed controls to adjust his level of comfort and participation. As soon as it is feasible, we assist the patient to resume self-care basics such as washing their face and hands, brushing their teeth, combing their hair, and positioning their personal items on the tray for independent retrieval. We find it disheartening whenever a patient becomes dependent on staff and family members, expecting them to provide care rather than trying for themselves. Often this pattern results from the patient’s fears and insecurities rather than a deliberate attempt to allow for this debilitating dependency. Family often struggle uncomfortably, indecisive as to how much help to provide.

Our guidelines: ask a lot of questions; check with the staff when you have doubts. We don’t like to see a visitor spoon-feeding the patient who can safely and independently feed himself. We intervene whenever we see the son trying to help his father get out of bed to go to the bathroom when dad is on restricted bed rest. It requires sensitivity as well as careful reassessment to provide just the right amount of assistance or intervention since we know the healing process is a dynamic one.

Mindfulness Games

Ioften find myself reminiscing about my pre-teen years growing up in a small coal-mining town in southern Pennsylvania when my best friend, my sister Evelyn, who was ten years older, spent much of her time training me in the basics of growing up. I adored my sister, and I put forth full effort to adopt her ways. Nowadays, mindfulness is a term frequently talked about as a therapeutic technique we can use to reduce stress. However, there are many in the field of psychology who believe mindfulness is being overhyped, especially by the media.

Personally, I had mastered these skills early in my life through Evelyn’s dedicated attention toward helping me develop my observation abilities. We never knew or used the term mindfulness, yet clearly, we practiced what the dictionary defines, the quality or state of being conscious or aware of something; a mental state achieved by focusing one’s awareness on the present moment while calmly acknowledging and accepting one’s feelings, thoughts, and bodily sensations.

Evelyn and I enjoyed taking many walks together; they were more like field trips as she focused full attention to the sensations we experienced: in the springtime, the fresh bright greens of new grasses, leaves and budding flowers; or in autumn, the conversion of the leaves to their grays and tans as they exposed their network of delicate interior veins. We’d pick up a variety of leaves and compare the exposed artistry and sometimes brought one or two home with us, finding these to be special for at least a short while. We identified fragrances, the smell of that freshly mown field of grass, or that lilac bush, filled with newly sprouted, light-purple blooms. I recall the property owner once announced to us, Help yourself to a bouquet, girls; there are plenty for us to share.

Evelyn’s training continued whenever we interrupted our walks with a rest break. We’d find a spot to sit down, we’d close our eyes, and try to identify and describe the sounds we heard—a flock of wild geese cackling as they crossed overhead, a helicopter flapping rhythmically by, and always, a barking dog or two. She introduced me to the world of colors, to use terms appropriately such as shade, hues, intensity, depths, and shape to further describe what we saw. As the years advanced, we expanded our exposure practice sessions to include food tasting, taking time to analyze and compare what we did or did not like about that certain spoon of something. You, too, may wish to give these games a try!

And Then You Get to Come Home

As I sit here on my front porch overlooking our valley, the scene seems relatively unchanged following the past week’s horrendous fire. Across the tops and sides of the mountains to the southeast of us, I do see the evidence of strips of borate spray. The sky above is its usual glorious robin’s egg blue along with a few billowing white clouds. And then my mind flashes back to last Friday midmorning when I drove around the lake on my way to the hospital. I followed slowly behind a chain of a dozen or more power line service trucks. We were stopped at the checkpoint where the boulevard merges with 178. The officer selectively cleared the trucks to proceed, directed others to turn and go back, and noting my hospital badge attached to my shirt, announced, You’re clear to go! As I continued down the road, I saw and smelled the devastation: smoldering trees and shrubs, a power pole split in half with the upper third suspended by the strained power lines, the midsection splintered, and the bottom third charred black and still burning. I felt my heart pounding as I rounded the curve, happy to see Paradise Cove Restaurant and family homes intact with all the surrounding landscape scorched.

The hospital grounds were eerily absent of any movement—no outpatients coming and going; no residents parked in their wheelchairs near the entrance. The lights were out in our therapy department; no staff present. Several cots and containers of emergency supplies were parked on the floor. At the end of the hall, I saw several skilled nursing staff calmly talking. I continued down to the acute care wing where I found my patient sitting up in his bed, again eager to practice his therapy routine he had been instructed. When we finished, he laughingly announced, The smoke doesn’t bother me—maybe because I’m on 100% oxygen! oxygen cannula in his nose, restricting a full