Group & Storytelling

At 6:45 AM, Thursday morning, I walked into the rehab gym with my sweats and O.T. softball shirt on (because it is sports day or physical health day or something like that) and the desire to curl up in bed because it is so cold and still dark outside and none of my current patient's appreciate 7:00 AM wake-up calls for therapy. So why the heck am I awake right now? But then one of our physical therapy assistants had a brilliant idea. We decided to group all our patients since the therapy department was in charge of doing some sort of sports activity with all the patients. We did not really think through this carefully because the two ideas we came up with were dodgeball or flash mob. Dodgeball was not going to work because we have three halls in our facility, not enough rubber balls or therapists to span the hallways, and many of our patients do not have the strength or range of motion to throw a ball very well. Flash mob was not going to work because the only dancer we have on our team is Andriana. And she already refused to chereograph any type of routine and we did not even have music planned that morning. So we decided to group our patients from 10:00-12:00 that morning and do fun sports-related activities. 10:00 AM would consist of two groups: the high-level OT group and the low-level PT group. At 11:00 AM, we would switch. We made sure each therapist had no more than 4 patients in each group so that we could bill for services. We printed handouts, came up with a rough outline of what we were to do, then did a couple individual treatments and caught up on paperwork.

At 10:00 AM, the CNAs brought all the patient's in one at a time. It was going to be a riot. Organized chaos. I was already getting sensory-overload. Our first group, the high-level patients, were a lot more energized. We did theraband exercises to work on bilateral upper extremity strength, balloon volleyball to work on range of motion, hot potato with weighted balls for core strengthening and sitting balance while weightshifting, and finally, a healthy aging discussion. It was fun. And our discussion was hilarious because we had patients who would not stop giving long, elaborate examples that, by the end of their story, I had no idea how it related to our topic.

Then we had our low-level group, who had just finished physical therapy. I realized that Frank, my patient with the amputated leg, got placed in the wrong group. Oh. No. Because as all the people in our low-level group needed several physical cues to do the theraband exercises, did not notice the balloon coming to them till it landed on their heads, and stared off into space when asked questions during discussion, Frank looked around wondering what was going on. I was doing the same. One of Andriana's patients fell asleep while doing the group exercises and almost slapped Frank with his theraband. Another patient with a very thick German accent was doing the exercises way too fast while yelling, "I need my oxygen! But I'm going to do these exercises anyway!" She started laughing and heeving -we had to physically take the theraband away from her. "Deep breaths through your nose, Marg. Smell the schnitzel!" Frank, who was sitting next to me as I talked about healthy aging, would smile and wink at me every time I looked over at him.

This morning I woke Frank up at 8:00 AM to get him ready for his 10:30 AM doctor's appointment. He looked at me, closed his eyes, and sighed, "Oh it's you". I said, "Frank, we're going to do a shower for therapy today". His eyes opened wide up and he said, "I can't do therapy this morning. I have a doctor's appointment!" When I told him we had plenty of time and that I was helping him get ready for it, he said, "I look forward to the day that I can win an agrument with you." We laughed. I sat on the cushion by the window sill and told him I was going to let him get himself out of bed and into his wheelchair. If you have forgotten or haven't read my previous posts, Frank is almost 90 years old (probably one of our sharpest patients) and has had a right amputated leg for quite a few years. After a few attempts and sounds of intense effort coming from Frank's end to get him in a long-sitting position, I suggested raising the head of the bed to make the transfer less demanding because Frank's family told me that he will have a hospital bed at home when he discharges. Frank told me to just let HIM do it. I laughed. I can't take things personal with Frank because he knows me well and I know him. When he got to the edge of the bed from a supine position, I crouched down on the floor and looked up at him saying, "Take a rest break -that was a lot of work". Frank said, "Let me tell you story". Oh boy, here we go.

Frank told me that when he was younger and moving around pretty well with his amputated leg, he started volunteering at the Utah State Rehabilitation Center. He told me that there were several young kids with the same disability as him. He would show them how to get on and off chairs, move around, and do daily activities like nothing was different about him. Frank told me they would enthusiastically cheer after he did things but that when they tried it themselves, they struggled. Frank said that as he watched them struggle, he would cry like a baby. When the coordinator asked him if he could come help regularly because the kids loved watching him do what he could do, Frank told him that he could not let these kids see him crying just because they could not do the same things he could. He never went back again. The reason why Frank told me this story was not just because he was able to get to the edge of the bed without my help now, but because he said the group session yesterday reminded him of that experience. I thought to myself, Well that's because your occupational therapist is an idiot and did not realize you were placed in the low-level group. Frank said, "I watched those ladies yesterday and how they were trying so hard to do the activities and it took all of me to prevent myself from crying . . . I have a picture of Christ in my home and beside it is a quote: 'I never said it would be easy, I only said it would be worth it'. I will keep trying. I just hope it's worth it". Holding back tears, I told Frank it was so worth it. He smiled looking down at me and knodded, "Ok. Now let's go." He completed the transfer, with no help, both of us in silence.