Getting Up to Speed ~ Night-Night, Bird

Now that both Neil and I were out of work, the order of business was for both of us to start looking for work.

While it was doubtful that I would be able to get a job right away, past experience has showed us that whenever Neil had to look for work, he was able to find a new job right away.

So shortly after Neil lost his job, I suggested that he post his resume on monster.com. And sure enough, the day after he posted his resume, he started getting phone calls from head hunters all over the country.

As such, especially since Neil was not willing to work in the Boston area, we had to start seriously considering the possibility of Neil getting a job in another part of the country, and thus having to relocate.

Relocating is never a minor undertaking. And when you have as many critters as we have, it could be a major challenge.

Relocating with dogs and cats is difficult enough. But what about when you have exotic animals?

In anticipation, we had to start thinking about what we would have to do with our double yellow Amazon parrot, Jerry.

Come to find out, things worked out quite well as far as Jerry was concerned.

Ariana had a friend visiting the area on Labor Day weekend. When he was at our house and saw Jerry, he commented on how much he liked him.

When he said that, I flippantly asked, "How would you like to have him?"

"Are you serious?"

As things go, this friend was a fellow who was passionate about birds. He raised and bred exotic birds. And he was very excited that we were offering Jerry to him.

On Labor Day, when Barito was due to return home, Ariana got Jerry into his travelling cage, and we brought him to New Bedford, where Barito was waiting to return home.

When we got there, it was quite the experience. Taking Jerry's cage out of the car resulted in a small sidewalk party with passersby stopping to gawk and admire Jerry.

That same day, Jerry was on his way to his new home in the Bronx.

Ariana and I were concerned how Jerry was going to make out with Barito. After all, Jerry was an ornery cuss who only showed affection towards Ariana. Towards the rest of us, he looked for opportunities to bite us and for us to depart from parts of our flesh.

I am happy to announce that Jerry is happy and doing well in the Bronx.

Barito called to tell Ariana that not only was Jerry sitting on his hand without inflicting any harm, he was also taking seeds from Barito's lips without taking the rest of Barito's face with him.

Getting Up to Speed ~ 9 Lives Minus 1 (or Dead Girl Walking)

18 August 2008 is Ariana's new birthday.

That is when she escaped death after a serious car accident.

That summer afternoon, Ariana was leaving her job at T.J. Maxx in Wareham. She was looking forward to meeting up with her friend, Gavin, who was going to be in the area for only a couple more days.

While travelling west and staying in the lane that she needed to get onto Route 6, a car that was in the left lane entered her lane with the intention of going right to get onto Route 28.

The car struck Ariana's car.

She lost control of her car.

The car went airborne and flipped several times, rolling down an embankment, taking out a large wooden sign, nearly hitting a building, and finally taking rest on the driver's side with the passenger's side pointing skyward.

Ariana awoke to consciousness to the sound of the paramedics talking to her through the open sun roof, which, by the way, was closed when she was driving.

She was lucky. Ariana was not wearing her seat belt, which really came to a shock to me because she ALWAYS wore her seat belt when she was riding with me. But I guess like a lot of young people, who found seat belts both uncomfortable and uncool, she would not wear one while she was driving.

She should have been ejected from her car when it was rolling down the embankment. But as fate would have it, only her cell phone was ejected. Ariana remained stay put in the driver's seat, with her left arm pinned under the car.

All who had attended the accident ~ the police, the paramedics, the tow truck guys, and even the boyfriend of an acquaintance who happened to be a witness ~ said that with the severity of the accident, Ariana should have been dead.

But God must have had other plans for her. Not only did she survive the accident, she survived it with just a minor concussion and a couple of scrapes, scratches, and bruises.

It is a miracle that Ariana survived and was not seriously injured. And we are still celebrating this miracle to this very day.

Not only was Ariana's survival a sign that God has other plans for her, it was also a sign of hope for the whole family. If Ariana could survive and walk away from an accident that should have killed her, then surely there was hope that our life circumstances would turn around for the better.

Ariana's survival gave us hope that a better life was waiting for us.

Getting Up to Speed ~ A Month Later . . .

. . . after I lost my job, Neil lost his job.

Neil had been working at a staffing agency and had been assigned to work at an engineering company in Foxboro, MA.

Work had slowed down. As such, Neil was out of work.

That Wednesday he came home and said that work had slowed down and that he was no longer to go into work. I didn't take it too seriously because I was simply thinking that he would be called into work once things picked up.

However, when that Friday rolled around, and Neil went to work to collect his belongings and bring them home, it really hit me. Oh my God! My husband was actually out of work.

Both of us were out of work!

Getting Up to Speed ~ Bite Me!

This has been a time of many changes ~ most of them coming faster than expected.

But first let me bring you up to speed.

I lost my job in early July. Actually it was a blessing. I did not like working where I was working. It was a great challenge working with mentally and physically disabled adults.

When I first started the job, I was working at a group home that had 5 young adult women. While it wasn't what I would have considered my idea of a great job, it wasn't all that bad.

Sure, I hated working second shift. But the girls were nice. And that was the first job that I had where I got fed, where I could watch TV (that's if TV really mattered much to me), and where I could work on my craft projects when all the girls were in bed.

However, there were some challenging moments with one girl in particular. There would be times when she would go off, become violent, throw furniture around, and generally trash the house.

One night, during such an episode, she bit me after an attempt to restrain her failed.

And it was quite the bite.


The bruise was so black that people thought, at first, it was a tattoo.

While I was doing well at that house, it was becoming very obvious that the biter girl was targeting me. As such, the agency transferred me to another house at another location.

That house had 5 young adult males. There was one guy in particular that I was assigned to as his "one-on-one." The fellow had a multiple seizure disorder, severe brain damage, autism, mental retardation, and other related issues. Whenever he was awake, he had to wear a soft helmet for protection.

We always had to be prepared for head drop seizures. They could occur at any time. And there could be more than one.

Whenever I was with this young man, I had to carry a strong magnet with me. The fellow had a vagus nerve stimulator implanted in his chest. And whenever he had a head drop seizure, I had to swipe that magnet over the left side of his chest until his body relaxed from the seizure.

Dealing with that wasn't a problem. What was a problem with me was bathing the male residents and dealing with their many and very frequent toilet accidents.

Toilet accidents were not an issue that I had to deal with much when working with the girls. However, it was a different story with the guys.

Anyhow working with the guys had made the job so much more unpleasant for me. In addition to that, the commute was much longer. And it was stressing me out SO much that I was actually getting scared of driving.

I became so scared of driving that I was afraid that when taking an exit or getting onto an on-ramp, I was going to lose control, the wheels were going to snap off the pavement, and my car was going to flip over. Ariana was afraid to ride with me because my new fear of driving was affecting how I drove.

Anyhow, just as there was a biter (or two) at the girls' house, there were a couple of biters at this new house. Fortunately they did not act out anywhere as often as the biter girl did.

Still there was one fellow who bit me twice. At least this time I was in a better position to defend myself. As such, the bites were minor and inconsequential.

It was ultimately this fellow who had cost me my job.

One day in particular he was very agitated and was displaying antecedent behavior.

I had come in that afternoon. My one-on-one fellow was taking a nap in bed. That was good for me for it meant that I would not have to stick to him like Velcro, especially since he liked to wander around.

The biter fellow went into his room and woke him up. Then the fellow tried to attack me. And as he was poised to bite me, I said, "Don't you dare bite me!" His mother was right behind him. And she did not like the way I spoke to him.

Honestly, how was I supposed to speak to someone in the midst of attacking me?

Anyhow, the mother proceeded to dress me down. However, while that was going on, I was getting very concerned about my one-on-one fellow.

Because biter boy had woken him up, my fellow was going to be getting out of bed. And because my fellow did not like to wear his helmet, I had to hurry and make sure he did. After all, if he had a head drop seizure without wearing his helmet and had gotten injured, my ass would have been on the line.

Biter boy's mother did not like it one bit when I had to excuse myself from her dressing me down.

And after safely fetching my guy from his room, I saw that my supervisor was in biter boy's room, talking to his parents. She was there easily for an hour, most of that time being spent telling the parents that I was actually a good worker who took great interest in their son.

(I would like to add at this point that biter boy's parents were wealthy people who sunk a lot of money into the house. They were also people who felt entitled to have the rules bent for them. When I first started working at that house, both my supervisor and the rest of the staff warned me about these people.)

Later that night, biter boy's father snuck into the house without announcing himself. (Because this house did not have the elopement issues that the girls' house did, the staff did not generally keep the door locked until late at night.)

After visiting with his son and just before leaving the house, the father stopped by the living room and said to me three times, "You will not yell at my son."

(For the record, I did not yell at him and did not talk to him any louder than any other staff member would have in the same situation. In fact, there was one staff member ~ who was "employee of the month" ~ who actually did yell at biter boy when he acted up.)

Then the father proceeded to threaten to report me and file a complaint.

And that he did.

It wasn't too long before I found out that the parents filed a complaint against me with the Disabled Persons Protection Commission, accusing me of verbal abuse against their son.

(Did I remember to say that biter boy was spoiled by his parents?)

And right on the heels of that complaint, I was informed by the agency that I was put on a 10-day administrative leave. Basically, I was suspended for 10 days with pay. And I was subjected to an investigation by DPPC.

After the 10 days was up, my suspension went into a no-pay suspension.

And after 30 days, when DPPC still had not rendered a decision, the agency exercised its policy by terminating me so that it could fill my position in order to maintain continuity of the service it provided its "consumers." (That's what they called the group home residents.)

It was unfortunate that I lost my job. As much as I disliked it, and as much as it stressed me out considerably, I still gave it my best shot. I honestly did care for the people I served. Also, the job provided my family with the health insurance that we needed.

However, I was rather happy to be rid of that job. At least this time it was the company ditching me instead of me ditching the company.

In no time whatsoever, my fear of driving disappeared. My stress level diminished greatly.

I was able to reclaim my life.

And it's going to be a loooooong time before I work in the human service field again.

Hey! I'm Back!

It's been awhile. Almost two months ago.

I was busy with my job, working second shift and coming back home late at night.

And because the agency that I worked for was a bit dicey and picky about blogs, I figured that I better cool it for awhile until I got a better idea of what I could get away with in my blog.

Well, it appears that I no longer need to worry about that.

You see, as of July 3rd, I was terminated. Yup. Axed. Sacked. Given the boot.

What was my heinous crime?

I made the mistake of trying to defend myself, of front of the parents of a consumer who was poised to bite me. The parents were rich and had sunk a lot of money into the house where I was working. And for some reason, the parents didn't think that I had a right to to assure that their son's teeth weren't going to connect with part of my body.

After dressing me down, they filed a formal complaint of verbal abuse against me with the Disabled Persons Protection Commission.

I was suspended from work with pay for ten days while the investigation got under way After the ten days were up, the company used what little accumulated earned leave I had in order to pay me.

Well, 30 days passed and DPPC still had not reached a conclusion. And because we hit the 30-day mark, company policy dictated that I'd be given the axe.

That's it. Pure and simple.

I received news of that decision on Saturday, the 6th, when FedEx delivered the agency's verdict.

At first I was flummoxed. I was pissed, too.

But after allowing it to sink in, I was grateful.

No longer had I to struggle to like a job that was taking me through the emotional ringer. As hard as I tried, I could not make myself like that job, especially after I got transferred to a new house where I had to deal with four adult males instead of five adult females.

In many ways, the transfer was initially agreeable to me. For one thing, I didn't have to worry about getting bitten (so I thought) at this house. This was a far more tranquil house.

However, I traded my fear of getting bitten for having to constantly clean up toilet accidents. Definitely not fun.

At my previous house, the girls were much more independent then the fellows at the new house. Very rarely did I have to deal with a toilet accident. However, there was this one girl who was targeting me, hence my being transferred to the new house.

At the new house, every day somebody was peeing or crapping his pants several times in one shift.

Also, giving adult males showers was no picnic. How I hated that, especially with the one-on-one fellow that I was assigned to.

My one-on-one was an amiable guy who suffered multiple seizure disorder. That I could deal with. The fellow had a vagus nerve stimulator implanted in his chest. Whenever he had a head drop seizure or a generalized seizure all I had to do was grab a magnet and swipe it over his chest. In moments I could feel him relaxing out of his seizure.

The beef that I had with my one-on-one was that he was a stubborn fellow. He didn't want to wear his soft helmet, which protected his head should he have a head drop while standing up.

And in the shower, he was a real challenge. He would try to grab the shower head to either spray the water all over the place or try to drink from it. Every night I would try to quickly give him his shower so that I could quickly get it out of the way. Once the shower ordeal was over, it was clear sailing for the rest of the shift, especially after he had been put to bed.

So, having been dismissed from my job, I don't miss any of that.

Nor do I miss the long, 85-mile round trip commute that I had to make.

The commute, along with the emotional difficulty of the job got to be such that I was having anxiety attacks while driving. All of a sudden I would go into a panic taking an exit, being deathly afraid that I was going to flip my car while trying to negotiate a tight curve. This had never happened to me before.

But now, I am back to feeling comfortable while driving. Today I realized that I actually did not go into a panic when I was getting onto the highway.

In many ways I am relieved to be spared having to make that long drive in order to clean up after toilet accidents and bathe stubborn adult males.

The downside, however, was that I lost my health insurance. And losing health insurance means that we're going to have to spend more money in order to make sure that we are insured.

But that's another story all together.

But one thing is for sure ~ I don't miss that job.

A Pink House

I was reminded this morning of a pink house that was in town many several years ago.

While neat with a pristine minimalist front yard, the color of this house caused much consternation in the neighborhood ~ so much so that the neighbors took up a petition to have the town hall make the owners of the house change its Pepto-Bismo pink house to a more sedate color that the neighbors preferred.

To the dismay of the neighborhood, there were no rules on the books that gave town hall the power to accommodate the wishes of the signers of this petition.

The pink house stayed pink.

I must admit, I was taken aback by the color of this house at first. But it soon grew on me, especially when I saw how happy it made my daughter to look upon this "non compliantly" colored house. And soon enough the house would cheer me up every morning as I drove on my way to work.

I once had a chance to speak with the owner of the pink house. I told him how much my daughter loved the house, and how awful it was for the neighbors to band together against this "property value reducing" house in their midst.

The owner was a gentle and kind man who had never intended to disturb his neighbors with his and his wife's choice of color. To him, it was a pretty and cheerful color. And he felt very sorry for his narrow-minded neighbors.

How is it that people admire houses of different and attention-grabbing colors while they travel to places like San Francisco and yet abhor the very same bright colors in their own neighborhood?

Why is it OK for a house to be pink elsewhere than in their own seaside New England town?

The pink house is still there. But it's no longer pink. Now it's an approved shade, fitting in nicely in a neighborhood where the houses are the color of old coffee and sickly flesh. The pristine minimalist front yard now has a nice and approved lush lawn.

The neighbors are happy.

Y?

It has been 4 and a half months since I have been working with autistic and mentally retarded young adults in a group home setting. And within that time period I had been transferred to another house where I was a better fit.

One night last week, while vacuuming the living room after the guys have gone to bed, I spotting a small white thing under the couch. Thinking that it could have been a dropped pill, I reached under to pick it up.

It wasn't a pill. Instead it was a small white bead with the letter "Y" on it.

"Y"

"WHY?"

That was the question that was coursing through my mind. "Why am I here?" "Why am I doing this?"

Of all the jobs I ever had, even the jobs from hell, never has that question been more profound. I would have never expected to find myself in this type of job situation ~ never in a million years.

And yet, here I am, caring for mentally retarded individuals ~ feeding them, washing and bathing them, cleaning up after them, and offering myself as a servant for their higher good.

Despite the strong feelings that I don't belong in this job, I know in my heart that this is the place where I need to be. Here is where I learn the lessons that I need to learn for the next stage of my growth and personal evolution.

I am here to learn humility, humbleness, and gratitude.

And if and when I leave this job, I will leave a different person from the one I was when I first entered this job.