We had the care plan meeting today, but the sitting-up issue has yet to be resolved. Most of the ideas I brought in for potential supports and barriers were thrown out because for Vernon, they would still be restraints.

Physical restraints are defined as any manual method or physical or mechanical device, material, or equipment attached to or adjacent to the resident’s body that the individual cannot remove easily and restricts freedom of movement or normal access to one’s body.

In Vernon’s case, it’s the cannot remove easily part that is the problem. We would need something he can’t remove in order to keep him safe. If it were up to him, and he had the leverage, he would be getting up out of that chair every chance he gets…still not accepting or aware of the fact his legs don’t work.

Hopefully we will be able to work out some sort of compromise as early as next week.  We spoke about other issues as well, including his finishing the 100 days of Medicare part A, which means he will not be receiving Physical or Occupation Therapy as he has. However, he has been so inconsistently responsive in the gym lately, I’m not too concerned about that at the moment. The CNAs will continue to administer range of motion exercises with him and as I have witnessed them working with other patients, I know he will be in good hands…at least until he is ready for more aggressive rehab.

But this isn’t really want I want to share about today. I want to share some GOOD things instead. I’m a little worn out with boring medical details, personally.

This was an ideal spring day, warm and breezy…I overheard several patients commenting on it in the courtyard as I rolled Vernon over to chat with Joe and Carlos under one of the big umbrellas. I must say I’ve truly come to enjoy the company of some of these patients…and when Vernon is in good spirits, and feeling talkative, the party gets better.  These are some of the sweetest and down to earth people I’ve met, and the ones who still have most of their minds intact have a rich sense of humor that comes from having to accept things exactly as they are. I wish I could explain better, but these are the people I feel like I can relate most with at the moment and I enjoy every minute. And yet, I’m not an invalid. I get to leave.  I feel like some sort of spy or something, who is able to travel from one world into the other. I wish I could bring something in to help them.

We spoke about activities, how they can be pretty drab for the residents sometimes. But they are all they have to look forward to somedays. How the music is dry, but how some of the really intellectually disabled people show signs of life when they hear it. I  mentioned bringing in a karaoke machine, which he thought was a great idea. Now I have to find one…anyone got one to donate?

While we were sitting outside, discussing these ideas and making jokes, who should walk into the scene like a lone rock and roll cowboy with a guitar slung over his shoulder, but our dear friend Derek (who has been threatening to show up for a little while now…I’m pleased I got to be here when he did.) Derek came to visit Vernon and play him some music, but he found a whole music-hungry audience.

Once he started playing, others rolled up like bees to honey. Some started to sing along. Including Vernon…which touched us all.

Afterward, Vernon said to us all: “This is the most comfortable I’ve ever felt in this place.”

Joe shook Derek’s hand. “You made my day…I mean, my week,” he said.

And then to me: “This is what Vernon really needs. Can’t you see?”

Yes, I can, Joe. Yes, I can.

Here are a couple more videos if you want to watch, for fun. Carlos has been asking me to bring in music for months because he knows singing helps him with his speech. Thank you, Derek, for answering the call.