dispatches from the sun-tan kid
I could write little vignettes about each day at work so far. It's my way of processing, and there is so much to absorb.
J, a smarmy older gent, has nicknamed me the "sun-tan kid." Today he noticed my double-brow, something that isn't noticed by most. (I find, actually, that the people who notice it usually have a mental or physical impairment....or maybe those are the folks more likely to have less of a filter, and so they're the only ones who verbalize it.) An airport staff at Heathrow called me on it once, as a security measure (if one could light a match on a show, imagine what could be done with a few misplaced eyebrow hairs, hmmm?), then pointed out his own little eyebrow eccentricity, "fashion statement, innit?"
I explained to J that I fell down the stairs when I was 2, got a small scar there on the eyebrow turf, and the the hair never grew back in that one spot.
"You fell down the stairs?" he asked.
Falling is something we have in common.
This morning I vaguely wondered if maybe this job is too much for me right now. "DOI," it reads on the top of everyone's information sheets.
Date of Injury.
A record of the worst day of your life. (or what's probably in the top running, anyhow)
Also listed are diagnoses, dates of birth, family information, strengths/weaknesses, needs/barriers, and rehabilitation expectations.
For a lot of people, their rehab expectation is grim. "There are no plans for discharge. We expect ________ to need services for the duration of his/her life."
Being reminded consistently about our collective mortality can take it's toll.
If nothing else however, I'll learn that maybe brain injury isn't the best setting for me.
there's still inpatient, outpatient, schools, mental health, geriatrics, pediatrics, etc....
Sometimes my heart is just a little bit weak.
But the heart's a muscle after all....strengthening it is just par for the course, methinks.
J, a smarmy older gent, has nicknamed me the "sun-tan kid." Today he noticed my double-brow, something that isn't noticed by most. (I find, actually, that the people who notice it usually have a mental or physical impairment....or maybe those are the folks more likely to have less of a filter, and so they're the only ones who verbalize it.) An airport staff at Heathrow called me on it once, as a security measure (if one could light a match on a show, imagine what could be done with a few misplaced eyebrow hairs, hmmm?), then pointed out his own little eyebrow eccentricity, "fashion statement, innit?"
I explained to J that I fell down the stairs when I was 2, got a small scar there on the eyebrow turf, and the the hair never grew back in that one spot.
"You fell down the stairs?" he asked.
Falling is something we have in common.
This morning I vaguely wondered if maybe this job is too much for me right now. "DOI," it reads on the top of everyone's information sheets.
Date of Injury.
A record of the worst day of your life. (or what's probably in the top running, anyhow)
Also listed are diagnoses, dates of birth, family information, strengths/weaknesses, needs/barriers, and rehabilitation expectations.
For a lot of people, their rehab expectation is grim. "There are no plans for discharge. We expect ________ to need services for the duration of his/her life."
Being reminded consistently about our collective mortality can take it's toll.
If nothing else however, I'll learn that maybe brain injury isn't the best setting for me.
there's still inpatient, outpatient, schools, mental health, geriatrics, pediatrics, etc....
Sometimes my heart is just a little bit weak.
But the heart's a muscle after all....strengthening it is just par for the course, methinks.