The CP Chronicles: Chapter Five (Michael)

You could hear his room before you saw it.

The faint static hiss of a VHS tape that had been rewound a thousand times, then the cheerful bubble-and-accordion chaos of The Lawrence Welk Show rolling through the hallway. It was always the same episodes. The same intro music. The same dancers in pastel dresses. And it never stopped.

He was probably close to fifty, whip-smart, and always in matching button-up pajama sets with the pants to match. In all the time I worked there, I never once saw him in “real” clothes. His conversations were punctuated by a stutter and frequent spits into tissues or the trash can. He wasn’t rude. It was just part of him, like the pajamas or the VHS tape.

For a long time, I didn’t think much about the spitting. Plenty of residents had compulsions or habits that made sense only to them. Then one day, I came across the note in his chart. It stopped me cold. Someone had violated him in the worst possible way years earlier, and the spitting wasn’t a tic at all — it was armor. It was his way of saying, never again.

I never told him I knew. He never spoke of it. But every time I walked past that room and heard Lawrence Welk playing, I thought about the way we see people — and how much we miss when we only look at what’s on the surface. Sometimes, the strangest habits aren’t strange at all. They’re survival.

The CP Chronicles: Chapter Four (Marie)

This chapter will venture to the first client that I've talked about on the mentally retarded side of CP. This was definitely not my favorite unit to work on as I found myself annoyed quite often. I don't mind working with mentally retarded folks when I know they need help and sympathy, but the ones who are only mildly retarded and just become whiny and complain all the time- those people drive me cuckoo for cocoa puffs.

Marie was my favorite hands down on the mentally retarded side. I'd say she easily weighed 300 pounds and was about five feet tall, maybe five-two. The first day I worked on this side... the FIRST... I was instructed to take toothpaste down to Marie's room so she could brush her teeth. Marie was not allowed to have shampoo in the shower because she'd dump it down the drain, so when I arrived, you had to go in and give her shampoo, which sometimes she yanked out of your hands, so I came up with the idea of putting shampoo in a little disposable cup and giving it to her, so no issues would arise.

This was the same with the toothpaste. Apparently if you gave Marie the toothpaste, she would eat the whole tube. So, here I was, half her size, taking her some toothpaste, which I assumed was no biggie. Well, as soon as I walk into Marie's room and she sees the toothpaste, she yanks it out of my hand and pins me against the wall with her massive frame. I had no idea what was going to happen, but I thought my best move was to do nothing... while she devoured the toothpaste. It was kinda like the idea of pretending to be a tree if a scary dog comes to get you. Well, it worked. She ate her toothpaste, let me go and I scurried back to the office, freaked out beyond belief!

After that incident, I came to find that Marie was just a giant teddy bear who was all bark and no bite. She had been given to the state as a toddler once her parents realized she was retarded. It was pretty sad, I thought, but she was pushing sixty and maybe that wasn't such a big deal when she was little. Her IQ was extremely low and all she cared about in life was food and "black pop." I think the thing she said most to me was, "Harold, will you buy me a big bottle of black pop?" (She thought my name was Harold because apparently in her mind Cara sounds like Harold.) She ended up using a walker to get around and you could hear her walking up and down the halls banging her walker. Then, when she was mad, she'd scream bloody murder and bang her walker on the floor. To this I would always say, "Marie, do you want me to throw your walker out the window?" And she would say "No, Harold." (Of course I wouldn't have thrown her walker out the window, but it got her to stop banging it.)

Just like all my other favorite residents, Marie was sent to another facility because she was not capable of living in a higher functioning setting. I often wonder about how she is doing, but I'm sure wherever she is, she's keeping people on their toes!

The CP Chronicles: Chapter Three (Tawny)

Tawny blew my mind. Some days she annoyed me to no end, some days she was a barrel of laughs and other days, I wanted to adopt her due to my overwhelming pity for the poor woman.

I could be wrong, but from what I recall, Tawny had MS. But, it had started in her brain so she was no longer able to take care of herself. She has a terrible short term memory. She called everyone (male or female) "good lady." You'd walk in and there would be Tawny, sitting in the living area watching television and she'd turn with a chipper, "Hello, Good Lady!" This was usually followed with, "do you have a cigarette?"

Tawny loved her cigarettes. I remember, she smoked Dorals in a blue pack. We had to have her initial every hour on the hour when she got a cigarette because she would come back and ask for another one and when you told her she had just finished smoking, she'd yell, "Like hell I did!" She would occasionally attempt to break in to get her cigarettes from the office, but she was pretty harmless. We could only give her one an hour because she'd smoke every minute of the day if you'd let her.

The reason I pitied Tawny (other than her disability) was her family. She was kind of from a trashy family and had two daughters and a son that would occasionally visit her. They were in high school and would bring their friends who would make fun of her. I know one of the daughter's names was Tara because whenever Tawny would ask me my name, she'd say "That's like my daughter Tara, but not the same first letter!"

She was also known for doing just about anything for a candy bar, soda or cigarette. Sometimes I wonder, though, if it was better for her not to understand what was going on. She had a safe environment and was very friendly. Perhaps had she been out of the facility, she might have ended up being taken advantage of and abused.

Yes, Tawny was an enigma, but managed to put a smile on my face on an almost daily basis.

The CP Chronicles: Chapter Two (Rose)

Rose was another of my favorites. She was probably top 3. And she was another bipolar individual, but I'm not too sure there wasn't something else there like post traumatic stress disorder. Look at me, thinking I can diagnose, lol.

Anyway, Rose was a wild one! She was in her mid 50s and was a former hairdresser. She was feisty as they come and for some reason she thought my name was "Hans." Yes, that's right. I said "Hans." She just got it in her head that was my name and she never called me anything else.

On her good days, Rose was a peach. We'd sit and chat at the table and she'd tell me stories about her life. She was married once, divorced, no children and a strange attachment to her elderly parents who visited every so often. When she was in her manic phase, she'd roam the halls (I should say scrape as she'd wear these house slippers that would sound like sandpaper dragging across the concrete floors.) She'd look for anyone to jest with and if you weren't looking, she'd occasionally pinch your butt and sometimes more! She was just being her quirky self, and it was not an unpleasant side.

Then there was her depressive phases. She was in love with a resident there named Jack and she pined for him when she was down. He had no idea she was in love with him and often didn't seem to have too many ideas anyway. (Overmedicated?) So, when she was depressed, she would lie in her bed and cry about the fact that Jack didn't love her. Sometimes she wouldn't want to leave her room for a week.

And as life goes, Rose was transferred to another facility when CP closed down. It was hard to say goodbye, but that is always a hurdle we meet at some point in our lives.

The CP Chronicles: Chapter One (Sal)

Sal was one of my favorites. He was a man in his early 70s and he was bipolar. I got to be the one to take Sal to his doctor appointments because we got on so well. And I was one of the few who was able to calm him down when he found out that the doctor was all out of pens.

Sal had a nighttime routine where he counted out his click pens. They were the fat round ones that would have a business name or a pharmaceutical name on them. He was fascinated by them and got a kick out of collecting new ones. And when the doctor's office was out, stand back! Cover your ears! Sal was on the war path!

I have never heard such profanity in my life. If people cuss like sailors, Sal cussed like the pirate captain on the most dreaded ship in the sea!

But when he was in a good mood, he was a hoot. He was like a teddy bear, wearing a union suit with every pocket stuffed full of useless goodies, be it a baseball card, a toothbrush, or a packet of Sweet N Low.

One day, I was working on the unit by myself and Sal was back in his room (he had one of the individual rooms, Mr. Moneybags! I was filling out charts and Sal kept yelling my name, "Caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaara!" (He was one of the few that got it right.) "Caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaara!" I knew I had just checked on him and he probably had some scheme in his mind, but finally, I started walking down the hall and asked, "Yes, Sal?"

Sal quickly screamed, "Have you ever been to New York?!" And slammed the heavy metal door to his room. I just stood in the hall shaking my head and then chuckled as I went back to my charts.

The CP Chronicles: Prologue

Inspired by a Twitter conversation, I decided to share some stories about the best job I ever had! When I was 19, I got hired as a residential aide at our county's mental health institution. It was divided up where the mentally ill residents were on the right, the mentally retarded residents were on the left, and upstairs were the higher functioning folks that needed the stability and structure of the institution. People were either court committed or voluntary residents.

I remember the very first shift flew by and I couldn't believe that I got paid to be there! It was the best job ever! I love psychology, so the atmosphere made my mind melt with eager learning experience anticipation.

My goal is to share some stories from the time I spent there and a little about some of the people I worked with, both the residents and my co-workers. I by no means intend to mock people with mental illnesses or mental retardation and I will not give real names in order to protect identities.

Each story will be designated as a Chapter and will focus on one incident or person in particular.

It was a sad day when the facility closed down. It was around the time that people were pushing for deinstitutionalization and trying to promote more normal living experiences. I thought this was ridiculous because some of the residents welcomed the structure and would have been too afraid to venture out on their own. But, as things in life go, it was not in my hands.

Chapter one will be coming soon! I hope you enjoy and get a little psychology enthusiasm in your blood from reading!