There is a lady who lives in the nursing home. She is small, delicate-looking, but is also strong, tough, and posesses an incredibly loud voice. She is somewhat obnoxious, one of those residents who can give you a hard time and bring you close to tears on her bad days.
She's also 'old', in her mid-80's.
Today she called me over and asked, in a demanding tone, "Do you have a boyfriend? Because all men do is sit in caves, scratch their balls, and grunt. One grunt for yes, two grunts for no!"
Sometimes they say the most unexpected things! It was hilarious!
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Sunday, March 1, 2009
The Anniversary Dance
There is a couple at my work, 2 of my 50 charges in my unit. They met after moving in, and fell in love. He has cerebral palsy, and her lower body is under-developed. He can't talk very well, but she is always with him and translates for him. He is sentimental and I helped him make a wedding photo board to hang on the wall. He gave it to her for their first wedding anniversary on Valentine's Day. I helped him make a Valentine's Day card for her. We put it on her tv so she would see it when she got back from the hair salon.
On Valentine's Day we had a dance for all the residents. About 63 of them showed up, as well as some family members and the 5 or 6 staff it takes to pull off a dance. Live entertainment plays up on the stage. Some residents want to dance by themselves, moving around in their wheelchairs, and the other residents we twirl around and wheel around the dance floor. It's a complicated maze, and the rec staff have to be careful not to run people into each other. Our shins are all covered in bruises and cuts afterwards from the foot rests on the chairs, but seeing the smiles and hearing all the laughter is worth it!
The entertainer was playing old war songs. One of the older rec ladies, who was my mentor during my practicum (she's also become my second mom) suggested we each take one of the happy couple so they could dance together for the next song.
It went like a well-oiled machine. No talking, just communication through the eyes. I took him, she took her, and without preplanning we faced each other so the chairs were side to side, with his good arm towards her so they could hold hands. We wheeled them around slowly, hoping it would be a slow dance. The song was "I can't help falling in love with you", by Elvis Presley. Everyone else saw them and, without being asked, cleared the dance floor so it was just the two of them. You could FEEL the love between them, it was so strong. After the song was over she kissed him on the cheek, the only way they can kiss, and everyone clapped and cheered. It was perfect, nothing about it could have gone any better.
I don't think there was a dry eye in the room after. :)
On Valentine's Day we had a dance for all the residents. About 63 of them showed up, as well as some family members and the 5 or 6 staff it takes to pull off a dance. Live entertainment plays up on the stage. Some residents want to dance by themselves, moving around in their wheelchairs, and the other residents we twirl around and wheel around the dance floor. It's a complicated maze, and the rec staff have to be careful not to run people into each other. Our shins are all covered in bruises and cuts afterwards from the foot rests on the chairs, but seeing the smiles and hearing all the laughter is worth it!
The entertainer was playing old war songs. One of the older rec ladies, who was my mentor during my practicum (she's also become my second mom) suggested we each take one of the happy couple so they could dance together for the next song.
It went like a well-oiled machine. No talking, just communication through the eyes. I took him, she took her, and without preplanning we faced each other so the chairs were side to side, with his good arm towards her so they could hold hands. We wheeled them around slowly, hoping it would be a slow dance. The song was "I can't help falling in love with you", by Elvis Presley. Everyone else saw them and, without being asked, cleared the dance floor so it was just the two of them. You could FEEL the love between them, it was so strong. After the song was over she kissed him on the cheek, the only way they can kiss, and everyone clapped and cheered. It was perfect, nothing about it could have gone any better.
I don't think there was a dry eye in the room after. :)
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Wicked Scriptures and Missing Teeth
Going in to work today, I thought it was going to be an easy, stress-free evening. The last few shifts last week (fights between residents, residents trying to deck me, residents yelling...was it a full moon?) left me feeling frazzled, more than I knew at the time. As much as I didn't want to work tonight, I was also looking forward to the calm of a Monday evening before immersing myself in the week's schedules and programs.
The rec girls had booked a highland dance school to come and perform for us. As an ex-Irish dancer, I'm not supposed to like Scots, or their dancing, or their traditional dance outfits, but hey - they were about to provide some entertainment and I was grateful.
Evening started off well. Talked to a few of my "little treasures", as they are known by the other staff - some older ladies that I've connected with and really get along with. Some of them I brought to the big room where the dancers would perform, others I tucked into bed and wished goodnight.
The trouble began when I went down to the secure, locked units to see if any of the residents there wanted to come up. These units are where I spent my practicum while I was in college, and love it as I do, I don't get down there often anymore. To get in, or get out, of the units you need to go through 2 sets of locked doors, punching a code into the buttons on the wall to unlock them. The residents down there have severe Alzheimer's and would wander outside and get lost if not watched constantly.
Having said all that, here's what happened this evening:
A very enthusiastic nurse begins naming residents who should go up. I am on my own and can take a maximum of 3 at a time (house rules). So, first Man and Lady #1 are going to come up. Lady #1 is yelling, literally yelling, "WICKED SCRIPTURES! She's preaching wicked, WICKED SCRIPTURES!" Nothing I say can draw her attention away from this blasphemy. Man is oblivious to the noise around him and walks, a few inches forward with each step, leaning heavily on me. After a few minutes we make it to the first door, which I open, and a minute later we get to the second door. We go through. I call an elevator.
Lady #1 has decided she is scared of elevators and it would not be fitting for her friend Man to go on either. In an effort to distract her, I ask her to take care of him. It works. In the elevator, the conversation goes as follows.
Man: I can't go with you.
Lady#1: Get the boy a drink of water!
Man: I need to look after the sheep.
Me: The sheep are doing well, but I'll double check while you watch the dancing.
Lady #1: DID YOU HEAR THE WICKED SCRIPTURES?!?!
Me: Who is preaching?
Lady #1: He needs some water! And a blanket. Don't you?
Man: What happened to my sheep?
Lady #1: SHE PREACHED WICKED SCRIPTURES!!!
Me: The sheep are in the barn. We don't have to worry about the preacher anymore, she's gone away.
Lady #1 (her face is turning red): WICKED, WICKED SCRIPTURES!
...And so on. We finally, slowly, make it off the elevator. I notice Man is missing his teeth. I cannot leave them on their own - they could get lost - so we go ALL THE WAY back downstairs, through the first set of doors, find his dentures lying on the ground, we go back through the doors to the bathroom, wash off his teeth, call down an elevator, and start the whole process again. We are still upset about the Wicked Scriptures, and the sheep are missing. I have the feeling that it is going to be a loooong evening.
The dancing has just begun when Lady #1 and Man have been comfortably seated. The music is too loud. I hate bagpipes. It is just after 7:00. I go back downstairs.
Lady # 2 and Lady #3 are really looking forward to going up. The nurse has recruited a few more who would like to see the dancers besides these two ladies, but I have to turn them down. Lady #3 is having some trouble standing. "Just pull on my bum!" By this she means pull the top of her pants up to help her stand. I'm a tiny little thing - a nurse should be doing this - but I help her anyways to save time. Nurse stops us, Lady #3 needs her meds still! We wait. We walk. We get through first set of locked doors. Lady #3 spits pills out on to floor.
Now what? Lady #2 has already proceeded to the second set of doors and doesn't know why she's there. I need to go back and tell the nurse that Ladt #3 spit out her pills, so they can clean them up before someone else thinks it's a candy, and re-administer the drugs. Ladies 2 and 3 are reluctant to have to backtrack, but they come back into the unit so I can tell nurse, who stares blankly. I leave. We go outside, call an elevator.
Elevator comes. Once lady #2 is inside the elevator, Lady #3 says it's time to stretch her legs. She trundles off with a squeaky walker towards the front doors. I apologize profusely to Lady #2 and tell her that, regrettably, we need to follow Lady #3. She rolls her eyes and sighs, frustrated at her friend, not at me, and off we go.
My dear sweet man, the one who said he had a big heart (see first blog entry), is sitting close by. He is lonely and wants to talk about Canadian politics. He is a smart man who knows and understands what is happening in the world these days, but I can't talk right now. He is sad, I'm his friend, I always talk to him. Always. But tonight I can't. He still wishes me a goodnight, and off I go, guilt twinging at my conscience.
When I catch up to Lady #3, she is standing in between the two sets of automatic doors that lead outside. "It's cold outside! I think I'll need my jacket." "But", I protest, "The dancers are upstairs."
"Oh, are they? I thought they were out here."
We move on. Finally get upstairs. Lady #3 is complaining of cramps in her legs and fatigue, and says the dancers had better be worth it. A couple of chairs are pulled out for the ladies. It is 7:35. I am relieved that we have finally made it up. The dancers are booked until 8, so the ladies will still see the second half of the show.
Ladies #2 and #3 sit down. The dance teacher steps onto the stage. "Ladies and gentlemen, we hope you have enjoyed our performance. Thank you all for coming and we hope you have a good week!" Applause. Lady #2 gives me SUCH a LOOK. I can't believe the dancers have cut their program in half. Lady #1 tells me how nice it was. Man asks if his sheep have been fed. Lady #3 would like to know why I bothered bringing her up.
While portering residents back to their rooms, one lost man in the palliative care unit asked for some help finding his room. It took a few tries, but eventually we found it . I helped him into his bed, fixed his oxygen mask for him and tucked a blanket around him. He asks, "Do you know why God made you beautiful? God made you beautiful so you can make old men like me smile."
This man is in this unit because he will pass away soon. He doesn't have much to live for anymore. He's in his 90's. But he reminded my of why I was there - to make old men (or women) like him smile.
You know what? I love my job.
The rec girls had booked a highland dance school to come and perform for us. As an ex-Irish dancer, I'm not supposed to like Scots, or their dancing, or their traditional dance outfits, but hey - they were about to provide some entertainment and I was grateful.
Evening started off well. Talked to a few of my "little treasures", as they are known by the other staff - some older ladies that I've connected with and really get along with. Some of them I brought to the big room where the dancers would perform, others I tucked into bed and wished goodnight.
The trouble began when I went down to the secure, locked units to see if any of the residents there wanted to come up. These units are where I spent my practicum while I was in college, and love it as I do, I don't get down there often anymore. To get in, or get out, of the units you need to go through 2 sets of locked doors, punching a code into the buttons on the wall to unlock them. The residents down there have severe Alzheimer's and would wander outside and get lost if not watched constantly.
Having said all that, here's what happened this evening:
A very enthusiastic nurse begins naming residents who should go up. I am on my own and can take a maximum of 3 at a time (house rules). So, first Man and Lady #1 are going to come up. Lady #1 is yelling, literally yelling, "WICKED SCRIPTURES! She's preaching wicked, WICKED SCRIPTURES!" Nothing I say can draw her attention away from this blasphemy. Man is oblivious to the noise around him and walks, a few inches forward with each step, leaning heavily on me. After a few minutes we make it to the first door, which I open, and a minute later we get to the second door. We go through. I call an elevator.
Lady #1 has decided she is scared of elevators and it would not be fitting for her friend Man to go on either. In an effort to distract her, I ask her to take care of him. It works. In the elevator, the conversation goes as follows.
Man: I can't go with you.
Lady#1: Get the boy a drink of water!
Man: I need to look after the sheep.
Me: The sheep are doing well, but I'll double check while you watch the dancing.
Lady #1: DID YOU HEAR THE WICKED SCRIPTURES?!?!
Me: Who is preaching?
Lady #1: He needs some water! And a blanket. Don't you?
Man: What happened to my sheep?
Lady #1: SHE PREACHED WICKED SCRIPTURES!!!
Me: The sheep are in the barn. We don't have to worry about the preacher anymore, she's gone away.
Lady #1 (her face is turning red): WICKED, WICKED SCRIPTURES!
...And so on. We finally, slowly, make it off the elevator. I notice Man is missing his teeth. I cannot leave them on their own - they could get lost - so we go ALL THE WAY back downstairs, through the first set of doors, find his dentures lying on the ground, we go back through the doors to the bathroom, wash off his teeth, call down an elevator, and start the whole process again. We are still upset about the Wicked Scriptures, and the sheep are missing. I have the feeling that it is going to be a loooong evening.
The dancing has just begun when Lady #1 and Man have been comfortably seated. The music is too loud. I hate bagpipes. It is just after 7:00. I go back downstairs.
Lady # 2 and Lady #3 are really looking forward to going up. The nurse has recruited a few more who would like to see the dancers besides these two ladies, but I have to turn them down. Lady #3 is having some trouble standing. "Just pull on my bum!" By this she means pull the top of her pants up to help her stand. I'm a tiny little thing - a nurse should be doing this - but I help her anyways to save time. Nurse stops us, Lady #3 needs her meds still! We wait. We walk. We get through first set of locked doors. Lady #3 spits pills out on to floor.
Now what? Lady #2 has already proceeded to the second set of doors and doesn't know why she's there. I need to go back and tell the nurse that Ladt #3 spit out her pills, so they can clean them up before someone else thinks it's a candy, and re-administer the drugs. Ladies 2 and 3 are reluctant to have to backtrack, but they come back into the unit so I can tell nurse, who stares blankly. I leave. We go outside, call an elevator.
Elevator comes. Once lady #2 is inside the elevator, Lady #3 says it's time to stretch her legs. She trundles off with a squeaky walker towards the front doors. I apologize profusely to Lady #2 and tell her that, regrettably, we need to follow Lady #3. She rolls her eyes and sighs, frustrated at her friend, not at me, and off we go.
My dear sweet man, the one who said he had a big heart (see first blog entry), is sitting close by. He is lonely and wants to talk about Canadian politics. He is a smart man who knows and understands what is happening in the world these days, but I can't talk right now. He is sad, I'm his friend, I always talk to him. Always. But tonight I can't. He still wishes me a goodnight, and off I go, guilt twinging at my conscience.
When I catch up to Lady #3, she is standing in between the two sets of automatic doors that lead outside. "It's cold outside! I think I'll need my jacket." "But", I protest, "The dancers are upstairs."
"Oh, are they? I thought they were out here."
We move on. Finally get upstairs. Lady #3 is complaining of cramps in her legs and fatigue, and says the dancers had better be worth it. A couple of chairs are pulled out for the ladies. It is 7:35. I am relieved that we have finally made it up. The dancers are booked until 8, so the ladies will still see the second half of the show.
Ladies #2 and #3 sit down. The dance teacher steps onto the stage. "Ladies and gentlemen, we hope you have enjoyed our performance. Thank you all for coming and we hope you have a good week!" Applause. Lady #2 gives me SUCH a LOOK. I can't believe the dancers have cut their program in half. Lady #1 tells me how nice it was. Man asks if his sheep have been fed. Lady #3 would like to know why I bothered bringing her up.
While portering residents back to their rooms, one lost man in the palliative care unit asked for some help finding his room. It took a few tries, but eventually we found it . I helped him into his bed, fixed his oxygen mask for him and tucked a blanket around him. He asks, "Do you know why God made you beautiful? God made you beautiful so you can make old men like me smile."
This man is in this unit because he will pass away soon. He doesn't have much to live for anymore. He's in his 90's. But he reminded my of why I was there - to make old men (or women) like him smile.
You know what? I love my job.
Wednesday, December 10, 2008
Christmas at work
Work has been crazy busy this month, because of all the Christmas parties being planned and executed, and trying to pretend everything is running as planned. :P It's been loads of fun, most of the staff are cheerful and upbeat, and eager to please.
The rec girls have to plan entertainment/music programs to run twice a day in the main auditorium, which is open to all residents in the building, as well as exercise, games, movies, nail care, music, pet therapy, baking, wood working, and reminiscing programs for each of the 11 units. With Christmas coming up there's a lot of extra decorations to put up, Christmas lights to fix, and extra energy being used to make everything SUPER festive. I don't think any of us will really feel "in the Christmas spirit" until Christmas is over and work calms down again!
An out-trip provided a welcome break. We went to a church in the city that had nativity scenes from all over the world set up, tables and tables FULL of soap carvings, figures woven from straw, crystal, wood, even chocolate!
While we were walking around looking at everything I asked one dear old lady what she thought Jesus looked like in real life. She grasped my arm and became quite anxious, asking "Oh I don't know dear. Let's find him and ask him ourselves!" I tried to explain that we couldn't because he wasn't right there with us, but a few minutes later she asked "where's that man we're supposed to find?" It struck me that although she is a strong Roman Catholic, she had forgotten who Jesus is. Alzheimer's or not, I'd assumed someone's beliefs would always stay with them. And yet, she still has faith, even though she's forgotten what it is she believes in. I wonder how I would respond if I were in that situation.
The rec girls have to plan entertainment/music programs to run twice a day in the main auditorium, which is open to all residents in the building, as well as exercise, games, movies, nail care, music, pet therapy, baking, wood working, and reminiscing programs for each of the 11 units. With Christmas coming up there's a lot of extra decorations to put up, Christmas lights to fix, and extra energy being used to make everything SUPER festive. I don't think any of us will really feel "in the Christmas spirit" until Christmas is over and work calms down again!
An out-trip provided a welcome break. We went to a church in the city that had nativity scenes from all over the world set up, tables and tables FULL of soap carvings, figures woven from straw, crystal, wood, even chocolate!
While we were walking around looking at everything I asked one dear old lady what she thought Jesus looked like in real life. She grasped my arm and became quite anxious, asking "Oh I don't know dear. Let's find him and ask him ourselves!" I tried to explain that we couldn't because he wasn't right there with us, but a few minutes later she asked "where's that man we're supposed to find?" It struck me that although she is a strong Roman Catholic, she had forgotten who Jesus is. Alzheimer's or not, I'd assumed someone's beliefs would always stay with them. And yet, she still has faith, even though she's forgotten what it is she believes in. I wonder how I would respond if I were in that situation.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Much of a person’s happiness is derived from everyday interactions with other people. Some may share a laugh with a gas station attendant, go on to work and have a fulfilling productive day, and then drive back home, looking forward to the welcoming hug from a loving spouse. Without feeling a connection with other people one often becomes lonely and listless, looking for something to do and someone to hang out with. The elderly sometimes keep the television running in the background for company, and adults listen to the radio or talk shows in the car on long drives, but this tends to be a temporary situation until someone to talk to comes along. For real “closeness” we need to connect with other people. Intimacy is an emotional connection with another being, one that brings us joy and makes us feel loved. It is an important part of our lives and no one should have that taken away.
Contrary to popular thought, intimacy and sex are not the same. The act of sex involves being physically involved with another person. It includes many physiological changes in the body and these changes pass once the final destination - orgasm - has been reached. Intimacy, on the other hand, doesn’t have to involve physical touch at all. To be intimate is to be close, emotionally, mentally, or physically. It is to be connected with someone, to be understood, to be recognized, and to be cared for.
When supporting people with disabilities, some employees will reduce the levels of intimacy someone can experience, mistaking it and sex for the same thing. A woman I supported on a field placement for school was not encouraged in her relationship with her boyfriend because the staff didn’t think she should be sexually active, but they took drastic measures to prevent anything. The struggling couple were frowned upon for simple acts of affection such as holding hands, because “who knows what will happen next!” These two young adults rarely saw each other and were not allowed to go on dates or even visit each other, unless at least one staff member was present. Even then, they were limited in what they were allowed to do, even so far as being told that they couldn’t share a fleece blanket across their laps while watching a hockey game, although they themselves were not physically touching. This couple only wanted to be recognized by each other. They wanted to do things that created a sense of intimacy, things like holding hands, talking on the phone, using pet names, and sharing special looks, to show their love for the other and have that feeling reciprocated. For them it wasn’t a matter of sex, that was the furthest thing from their minds. They only desired an emotional closeness.
Physical touch is only eight percent of ways to show affection. That includes anything involving touch, from holding hands to sex, from hugging to rubbing someone’s back. Eight percent! That’s a really small number! There are so many other ways to show that you care for someone. You could read aloud to someone, talk on the phone, actively listen, show interest in hobbies and skills, send a surprise letter, leave a gift on his or her pillow, cook a special meal, clean up a mess left behind - anything you can do out of love.
I think that intimacy is appropriate and uplifting for people, for those on both the giving and receiving ends. It is good for people to learn and practice how to make others feel good. It teaches us to love (and the acceptable ways of showing love), platonic or otherwise. From my experience, people who have a supportive network of family and friends who show an active interest in their lives are less likely to experience chronic depression, unhappiness, and dissatisfaction with life than those who are alone or ignored. Some may need acknowledgement from many to make them happy, but for others all it takes is one person to love and be loved by.
Every single person, regardless of his or her physical or mental health, deserves the chance to enjoy happiness and contentment through contact with other people, and no should be denied this right.
Contrary to popular thought, intimacy and sex are not the same. The act of sex involves being physically involved with another person. It includes many physiological changes in the body and these changes pass once the final destination - orgasm - has been reached. Intimacy, on the other hand, doesn’t have to involve physical touch at all. To be intimate is to be close, emotionally, mentally, or physically. It is to be connected with someone, to be understood, to be recognized, and to be cared for.
When supporting people with disabilities, some employees will reduce the levels of intimacy someone can experience, mistaking it and sex for the same thing. A woman I supported on a field placement for school was not encouraged in her relationship with her boyfriend because the staff didn’t think she should be sexually active, but they took drastic measures to prevent anything. The struggling couple were frowned upon for simple acts of affection such as holding hands, because “who knows what will happen next!” These two young adults rarely saw each other and were not allowed to go on dates or even visit each other, unless at least one staff member was present. Even then, they were limited in what they were allowed to do, even so far as being told that they couldn’t share a fleece blanket across their laps while watching a hockey game, although they themselves were not physically touching. This couple only wanted to be recognized by each other. They wanted to do things that created a sense of intimacy, things like holding hands, talking on the phone, using pet names, and sharing special looks, to show their love for the other and have that feeling reciprocated. For them it wasn’t a matter of sex, that was the furthest thing from their minds. They only desired an emotional closeness.
Physical touch is only eight percent of ways to show affection. That includes anything involving touch, from holding hands to sex, from hugging to rubbing someone’s back. Eight percent! That’s a really small number! There are so many other ways to show that you care for someone. You could read aloud to someone, talk on the phone, actively listen, show interest in hobbies and skills, send a surprise letter, leave a gift on his or her pillow, cook a special meal, clean up a mess left behind - anything you can do out of love.
I think that intimacy is appropriate and uplifting for people, for those on both the giving and receiving ends. It is good for people to learn and practice how to make others feel good. It teaches us to love (and the acceptable ways of showing love), platonic or otherwise. From my experience, people who have a supportive network of family and friends who show an active interest in their lives are less likely to experience chronic depression, unhappiness, and dissatisfaction with life than those who are alone or ignored. Some may need acknowledgement from many to make them happy, but for others all it takes is one person to love and be loved by.
Every single person, regardless of his or her physical or mental health, deserves the chance to enjoy happiness and contentment through contact with other people, and no should be denied this right.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
I have 300 grandparents!!
After graduating from Grant MacEwan College with a diploma in Disability Studies:Leadership and Community, I began to work as an attendant in recreational therapy in a nursing home. I'd always thought it would be difficult to find a job after college, having had no clue which area of disability I wanted to specialize in, but after completing a 7-week practicum with seniors suffering from Alzheimers/dementia I knew it was the right place to be. I was hired before my practicum had even finished and was excited to learn and grow.
It's no secret that I'm an emotional person and everyone told me that emotions were bad when working in a nursing home, especially with seniors. I quickly learned that that was in fact not true. Emotions are good. Emotions are what make me good at my job. They motivate me to do more, work harder, be more caring, and show more love to those around me. Many of the residents have 'adopted' me as a grandchild, and I now have about 300 grandparents that I look forward to seeing when I walk into work.
A few weeks into my practicum I spent a coffee break with a resident, who shared how upset he was that someone stole a flower he'd bought for his girlfriend. I was surprised, and he took the expression on my face to mean I thought it odd that he, and old man in a wheelchair, should have a girlfriend. He leaned in close and said quietly,
"Everyone notices my big ears, my big nose, and my big mouth. But no one ever sees my big heart."
That has become the motto I live by in my job. As long as you continue to look for the good in others and see it shine through, no matter what the disability, your job will be continually rewarding.
:)
It's no secret that I'm an emotional person and everyone told me that emotions were bad when working in a nursing home, especially with seniors. I quickly learned that that was in fact not true. Emotions are good. Emotions are what make me good at my job. They motivate me to do more, work harder, be more caring, and show more love to those around me. Many of the residents have 'adopted' me as a grandchild, and I now have about 300 grandparents that I look forward to seeing when I walk into work.
A few weeks into my practicum I spent a coffee break with a resident, who shared how upset he was that someone stole a flower he'd bought for his girlfriend. I was surprised, and he took the expression on my face to mean I thought it odd that he, and old man in a wheelchair, should have a girlfriend. He leaned in close and said quietly,
"Everyone notices my big ears, my big nose, and my big mouth. But no one ever sees my big heart."
That has become the motto I live by in my job. As long as you continue to look for the good in others and see it shine through, no matter what the disability, your job will be continually rewarding.
:)
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