New Journey Day 2

Yeah so this picture sums up my new experience in a nutshell.

I wanted one so bad.

I have to run to work. I'd like to post my experience in words at some point.

We'll see ...

The Journey Begins Here for One of us. I said BEGINS.

I'm going to keep things simple.

The first picture is entitled 'My Last Supper'


Next we have my 'Final Fling' ...


If you haven't guessed yet my journey continues, even though I stated that it was only beginning in my title. There is a new part of it that is beginning tomorrow actually, but I'll save my commentary on that for a photo tomorrow. The above two pictures are my photo commentary for yesterday.

What can I say? I think they explain my relationship very well: quick and cheap.

Today my friends was a new day. At 7:30am this morning this is what I was thinking of my new 'journey' ...



If you cannot tell, this is a picture taken from the BOTTOM of the stair case looking at the mountain that seems to be ahead. I feel like a little mouse trying to climb a boat load of stairs.

Today was the day I started a challenge and I am continuing to try and fan the flame of possible competitiveness within myself. Something that I truly wonder if it exists.

I'm not competitive by nature. At all. I am quite happy to let everyone run by me in a race. I am totally satisfied to let other people have more money than me, be nicer than me, and just be better than me.

Today I take up the challenge to try and be better than me myself. For reals.

I hope to use pictures often in the next 84 days to tell a story. You know the old saying 'A picture is worth a thousand words', well I'm hopin' so.

See you tomorrow.

*smiles*

Fulfilling Dreams

A far cry from my nightmares last evening.

Tomorrow I start an adventure I never thought I would have the courage to go on. It ideally will change my life. In some way.

During the next 84 days I am going to try and use my birthday gift from Wally to tell my journey's story. I may even share it.

I'll learn lots of new things. Have lots of great stories.

Get ready. Here I come.

Oh yeah. On a sad note: I will be holding a funeral as well. For two very dear friends. More on that later.

Good night.

Nightmares

Lastnight I had a nightmare.

It was about my party. It was terrible.

In my nightmare time was flying by. Real fast like (hmmm... sounds normal to me). I remember the time of the party coming and we were in this little tiny old rickety church hall type place that could really only hold maybe 20 people comfortably.

For some reason there was a mis-communication with the DJ and he didn't come at all. Then I had forgotten to get the decorations done so I had a mixed array of dollar store streamers ripped and masking taped up to and fro. I also happened to run out of time to find anything decent to wear so I looked a fright.

To top it off barely anyone showed up. Which considering the sounds of the party that occurred, it was probably a good thing.

So I guess I need to do a bit more planning or something. I am starting to worry a bit about some of my ideas and stuff. EEK!!

With less than 2 months til party time I think I'd better get on things.

No Time to Think

So it's 5:30am on a Monday morning in which I will soon begin my day.

It's a different day in my work world as I am working during the day today and home this evening (miraculous!!)

I am only up because I have a pooch that is not feeling well and I am doing my best to keep him from giving me proof on the carpet. Not my favourite activity.

It's at this point I briefly contemplate calling in for work to be with him but realize that might be a tad on the crazy side since he's probably ok.

sO I sit here and think ...

It's been in the past couple of weeks I have come to a serious conclusion: I am too busy to think.

Not in an 'I'm too busy to think because I am soooo important and have way better things to do' way. More in an 'it's March already!! I haven't made time to do all of those things I meant to do this year yet!' way.

I am beginning to realize that I am totally letting my job and financial goals overcome everything else that's important in my life. (And by the way getting so busy that I am neglecting any sort of good budgeting which would make those financial goals see any light of day).

This is really hard for me. I am a very focused person. I see a goal and I go for it. If I want to 'experience life', I devote time to 'experiencing life'. If I want to travel, I travel (ok so I haven't done a lot of this at all but when I do it's takes focus for me to accomplish it, since it doesn't come natural to me). If I want to truly get healthy, I truly get healthy (again not something I've experienced but there is more to tell you regarding this later). If I want to try 40 things in 40 days I do my best to try forty things in forty days.

My main goal in life is to live. Live with passion. Live with fire. Live with gusto. After my experiment last year the biggest thing that I learned while trying loads of new things, whether it was a new food, or going to a new religious experience, I learned that relationships were the most important thing in life. At least in my unprofessional opinion.

Now as I look back on my last 6 months of life I am realizing I have slid back in time to my old, old ways of doing things. My bad habit of saying 'yes' to everyone (only regarding my work). My focus lately had been entirely work related. Why? Well when I started my new job I was told 'Permanent schedules come faster to those who accept shifts quicker'.

I took that to heart and have worked no less that 43 hours every week (you are only allowed to work 44 awake hours a week) plus 2-3 overnight shifts a week (your are only supposed to work 2 a week) the past few weeks.

Initially I was very proud of this accomplishment. I was working hard, doing my part to get a permanent schedule that I could count on (mostly because if I had a permanent schedule I wouldn't be obligated to take everyone else's stray shifts).

A couple of weeks ago I had a great conversation with another co worker I had just met. She works approximately 15 hours a week, give or take. She's been with the agency for years but she's still not much older than myself. She's a liver, like me (or like I was). I liked her immediately after a few sentences were exchanged. I knew she'd 'get' what I talked about when we chatted about our lives.

She told me not to burn myself out with work there. That they would take me for all I had. She didn't said it was a terrible agency or anything but that if I was willing to be worn out that would happen. Right now I am definitely letting that happen. all for the sake of money really. Well, that and a good reputation at work.

*Sigh*

So now I'm in an interesting position. One I didn't think I would be put in again. I'm in the class of life called 'Saying NO 101'. You see I did pass this class at one point in my life, when I had realized that I just needed to trust God would give me all I needed and then some if I wold just sit back and let him. It didn't mean being lazy, I just meant letting go of my own ego fulfilling desires and trusting that by doing so He would fill the other voids in life.

I remember when I passed the class before I was able to say no without guilt because I knew it was what I was supposed to do. I knew that by doing so I would be taken care of in an area of my life that I needed something other than the high of saying 'yes'. It was a wonderful class that I learned so much in. I feel it grew wisdom within me. Somewhere along the line I think the wisdom took a hike, or perhaps I sent it on a vacay.

It's funny I've been thinking about this struggle of mine for the past several weeks. Too scared to admit it or bring it up because I knew it meant that I would have to deal with it if I 'talked' about it. Well I've talked about it. To to fix it.

*Sigh*

I'm going to think some more on this and see where it takes me.

Hopefully somewhere great.

Chocolate = Death?

I guess Part 3 of my story will have to come later seeing as I don't have it in me to write it right now. Oh well...

I'm not sure what exactly I want to write I just know that I wouldn't mind an outlet. Just don't know what to let out.

I mentioned before that I am learning some Catholic stuff. I kinda want to look at it as Liturgical stuff right now seeing as I guess specifically that is what I am looking at.

Right now we are in Lent. I'm learning more and more about it. I'm finding it rather incredible and interesting.

When I was a teen I thought that Lent was about picking out something you loved (like chocolate, tv, video games) and giving it up for forty days. I was never entirely sure as to why. I guess I thought it was to represent Jesus giving up his life. You know, because me giving up chocolate is like totally the same as Jesus dying and stuff.

I would love to go on and tell you what I'm learning but I'm not ready yet. I will say that I know now that Lent is not about really comparing your toils to that of Jesus really, it's about growing closer to Him. Well, that's the short version I guess.

I thought I had more, but I don't.

I'm a tad on the melancholy side right now. Not a bad thing. Just a thing.

Friday, November 13th, 2009 - Part 2

The door opened and Guy's mother marched up the stairs up into the kitchen and I think flew into his room. She essentially began doing what he said she was going to do. Except for actually using the word retarded that is.

In that moment I felt like a betrayer. I felt like I fed him to the wolves. I just wanted to hold him.

You see 2 weeks prior, we faced a similar scene (minus the sexual assault and plus a physical one). Then though it was Guy telling us that he wanted to die, to run into the middle of a road and get hit by a car. That he hated his mother and hated his life.

It was then that I had to identify with him and let him know, though I didn't have his life, I had felt those feelings before in my teenage years. That I too had feelings of suicide in my life. That I too felt angry with my mother at one point.

I remember telling him that he didn't want to kill himself and there would be a lot of people that would be so saddened if he hurt himself , that he was loved. (I will never tell someone how they feel again - it's not fair and I knew that it was wrong). He looked at me very honestly and purely, and said 'I don't care'. The sad part is I could tell by his eyes that he didn't. I knew that by the way he was treated in his life, having to live in a group home (while his four siblings lived in a nice home in the country), not being given any control or barely any choice, he would feel better off dead. It broke my heart.

Of course now it was two weeks later and this incident was even more out of control and even more heart breaking to watch.

After his mother got to his room she spent a good 10-15 minutes shouting at him, about being disappointed in him, and on and on. At one point her live in boyfriend joined her side as a male figure. This didn't help at all. He was senseless when it came to dealing with someone who had a disability and was mentally distraught - he had also never seen this side to our very sweet Guy.

It wasn't long and Guy had lost it. And I mean lost it. He began to physically retaliate towards his mother. We had to intervene and then he tried to get out the window again to run.

During this time the decision was made for me to call 911. I did so and was told by the dispatcher that 'it is a busy night tonight we'll get someone there as soon as possible. Call back if things get worse'.

Things continued to get out of hand. Guy at one point had jumped onto his bed, peeled off his shirt and started groping different body parts, seemingly at his mother and step father. I couldn't gain eye contact - he did not even seem present. His face was bright red, his veins were popping, he was displaying raw anger at the world, specifically those in his world. Part of me couldn't blame him.

Guy continued to utter 'I hate you' at his mother along with a colourful host of other profanities chained together in the most interesting of ways (at least that I'd ever heard).

After beginning to lash out again physically at his mother (who by the way is like 5 feet tall and would weigh maybe a hundred and ten pounds). Her boyfriend helped her put him in a physical restraint that was anything but proper (yes there is a proper way to do it). At this my co worker (who is a Safe Management instructor - teaching holds and protective actions) and I had to remain hands off as he is under age with his mother there sort of calling the shots. If she hadn't have been and we felt the need we would restrain, but with caution and proper technique. People have died while in restraints.

Guy is now laying in our narrow hallway outside of his room on his naked stomach with his mother sitting on top of him and his step father on his legs. He is now using every last bit of his strength to get them off. At one point he head butted his mother in her face, among other things. Again the profanities were streaming out of his mouth and the anger boiled.

At this point I had made a second call to 911 saying we needed help now! They said they send some one over soon but it may take 20-25 minutes (there goes our so called emergency plan).

The next 15 minutes were spent retraining him (by, of course, his mom and her boyfriend). Finally my co worker stated that is was not safe to keep him like this and at the count of three to let him go and get him directed back to his room. At the count of three they released him and he somehow got back to his room. At which point he began hitting out at my co worker and started using objects in his room to throw at her or anyone around them. She took a hit and her glasses were thrown off (good thing she has loads of experience with that sort of thing).

I make a third call to 911 and plead with them to get some one there to help. Within a couple of minutes our manager finally arrived (she was out of town for the day). She is able to calmly walk into his room. At which point Guy put himself in his closet and wailed with the door closed while the five of us made a mini assembly line and took every object we could get our hands on and put them into Gui's room for everyone's safety.

Then, all but our manager, got out of the room.

She stayed in his room and talked calmly to him and he did calm down ... somewhat. Definitely not completely or even a lot. But enough to get him to a place where he was prepared to be taken to the hospital for help.

Finally, as Guy and our manager began to walk out of his room to get to a car, the police make their grand entrance. Well it wasn't really grand. While Guy was in his room they had come in the house and got a one minute overview with who they would be dealing with and the state of things. That's when Guy came out of his room.

As soon as Guy saw the two officers he tried to run, then he punched the one officer in the face. At which point he was once again restrained (and instantly might I add) on the floor, on his stomach.

He again began to yell and wail hateful comments and interesting profanities, followed by the statement 'Please just kill me now'.

That is when I am quite positive my heart broke all over again for this young man whom I spent 30 hours a week with taking to basketball try outs, floor hockey nights and helping do homework.

I've mentioned before that I'm not a crier. Let alone in front of my boss and several strangers. But I couldn't take it anymore, I lost it. I wasn't hysterical but a well of tears escaped as I watched my Guy be detained. In my point of view for simply revealing his hurt.

A hurt might I add he tried to show us two weeks earlier but was ignored (even when three of us core staff sat and pleaded to our manager in her office to get him some help).

After several minutes and a call for backup, he finally agreed to comply with the police. A third officer arrived to help take Guy out to a proper cruiser for transport. Guy seemed to be doing ok until he got into the cruiser and realized his dreams of overtaking the police weren't going to come true. He wrestled and couldn't get out of his handcuffs and was now not going anywhere. He apparently had a look of desperation on his face.

The house was a flurry of people communicating where everyone was going. Mostly all but my co worker and I were going to the children's hospital (Guy was only 14). Meds and papers were being sorted through. At one point my manager gave me a hug, which I wasn't entirely sure if I wanted (or at least not from her) but I let her. She attempted the same thing with my co worker, who had kept it together, but was declined. My manager made sure to remind us to fill out all necessary Occurrence Incident Reports for the evening and not to forget any other paperwork. (Because that's the most important thing ... clearly. Sarcasm strongly intended).

Finally it was 5:30pm, two excruciating hours had passed by, and my co worker and I were alone, with Gui still locked in the living room (it's an open area which we can monitor all the time). We just looked at each other for a few seconds and then ... we wept. And we wept. Then we wept a little more. She asked me if she could hug me. I said yes.

After 3-4 minutes we took a moment to breathe again and then she looked at me and said 'we can't do this tonight' (meaning work the rest of our shift with Mr.S.), there were still 5 1/2 hours to go.

She immediately went into the office to call someone to come in and be with Gui, while I went up to the raised living room to get him out to give him a brief change and think about what to feed him for supper.

However as I stepped up the stairs I noticed that Gui was bending his legs funny. He was no longer standing straight up at the banister looking on as he usually does, he was slowly shrinking to the floor with wide eyes.

I comment and said 'Gui, what are you doing? I've never seen that look before.' I opened the gate and got near him - not something you usually do without caution. I begin talking to him. My co worker hears me say 'That's weird Gui, you sound like you are sleeping' and she bolts out of the office.

She yells 'Oh my goodness! He's having a seizure!'

What?! I thought. Could this really be happening. Literally five minutes after an incredibly huge rage by Guy. This couldn't be happening.

My co worker jumps into the living room as I try to feel for a pulse. Gui is now lying on the floor with eyes glazed over. I couldn't find a pulse, but then again my adrenaline was pumping pretty hard.

She had grabbed his emergency med and gave it to him and listened for breathes. He began to turn a pale blue colour. She states 'He's stopped breathing' and proceeds to ask me to get the scissors to get his shirt off. I do so and within seconds he is lying bare chested on the floor receiving CPR by my co worker as I am calling 911 for the fourth time in 2 hours.

Within minutes the ambulance arrives with three EMS personnel. A small young lady, and two burly men, one of which could have used a few laps around a track (no judgment though). They declared that Gui wasn't having a seizure and looked at us mockingly for calling it that. Because Gui wasn't having a traditional seizure of shaking of the body and such they figured we had no idea what we were talking about.

Of course as we debriefed them on Gui and his disability and behaviours they had no idea what we were talking about. I am constantly astounded at how little those in the medical community know about people with disabilities. Astounded.

Because Gui is a big guy they decided to lift him down all of our stairs themselves (split level houses aren't an advantage when you need an ambulance). They got him to the stretcher and he had already improved quite a bit. By that I mean he was already swinging and trying to head butt the ambulance people. Because of their rudeness to us, we didn't mind.

Once again meds were found, papers and cards were sent and Gui's father was called to meet his son at the hospital - something normally we would have taken care of. Clearly that night we weren't going anywhere.

It was 5:55pm and the house was now officially empty, except for my co worker and I. This time we were stunned. We looked at eachother and and began to laugh. And laugh, then laugh some more.

I mean what are the chances that something like this is ever going to happen? Like never. Four 911 calls, three for police, one for an ambulance. The need to use both PRNs, that are generally used in extreme circumstances, for both guys, within 2 1/2 hours. To see one guy have a psychotic break and the other one literally stop breathing, is just silly. It's just ... crazy.

And there we were, 2 1/2 hours into our shift with nobody to support.

The dramatic part of the story ends here. However the bitter end doesn't.

I shall wait and share that in Part 3.