Taking Care 4 (vi) - Day Centre

       Laura's group came over at just after 1:30.  There were a couple of replacements from the morning.  Instead of Terry and Matthew, there was a young Asian man called Farhad and an older man called Rex.  Farhad had a beaming smile which showed a few missing teeth in the front.  He was non-verbal and, so Laura informed me, had severe learning disabilities.  He could do simple tasks like wash his hands and use cutlery, but not much else.  He came straight up to me and held out his hand for me to shake.  When I took it, he held mine against his cheek.  It was a very touching moment. 

       Rex was in his mid-forties and more capable and articulate.

       "Nice to meet you, Will," he said, shaking my hand.

       "And you."

       His learning disabilities were clearly milder.  He had a 'twiddle' that helped him to concentrate: a CD with a pencil through the hole.  He held the pencil in one hand and used the other to spin the CD on it.

       Maggie didn't get back until quarter to two, bringing the same group as the morning.  Ganesh came straight up to me, holding up his hand for a high-five.  He wanted to do a hard one, but I drew my hand back a bit to soften it.

       "YAY!" he cried, with that big, wide grin he had.

       "Sorry we're late," Maggie said.  "Traffic.  I need a smoke after that."

       She headed up towards the back door.

       "Can I have one, Maggie?" Gary called after her.

       She turned a stern face to him.

       "When do you have your cigarettes, Gary?"

       "Break times."

       "Right.  And is it break time yet?"

       "No."

       "Then you know the answer, don't you.  Now, help the others get the stuff ready."

       Laura and Thandie got some plastic covers out and spread them over the tables.  Then we went around putting aprons on everyone.  Thandie asked Greg if he wanted to join in, but he sank his chin on his chest again and shook his head.  Steven was up in the lounge again, too.  Apart from those, everyone was up for the session.

       Laura brought a large box in from the kitchen.

       "I thought we'd paint these to go out in the garden in the summer," she said, taking out small plaster ornaments and passing them around.  Frogs on lily pads, birds in nests, rabbits, gnomes, tiny cottages.  People chose what they wanted while I helped Thandie to get the paint trays ready - acrylics, all the primary colours. Everyone had a brush and a jar of water. There was a general buzz of excitement.

       "Most people enjoy this session," Thandie told me.  "Good excuse to make a mess!"

       "Off you go, folks," Laura said.  "Let's see some nice painting and bright colours for summer."

       We moved around the room, helping people when they needed it.  Jamie was the only one from our group who needed real help, though he was able to dip the brush in paint, then splodge it into place on his cottage.  With each splodge, he laughed as if the whole thing was hilarious.  Danielle had a frog and was painting it very neatly and carefully.  Ganesh was a bit like Jamie, just stabbing odd colours all over his rabbit.

       "He's a colourful fellah," I said to him.

       "Rabbit!" he said.

       I tried to engage with a few different people during the afternoon.  There were a couple of women from the Sittingbourne home, both in their forties I guessed, who were sitting together chatting as they painted.  One had quite a loud voice, the other was quieter and more reserved.  They introduced themselves as Debra and Molly.  Debra, the louder one, smiled at me, showing huge brown eyes behind her thick glasses.

       "How are you getting on then, Will?  Do you like it here with all of us?"

       She spoke each word quite slowly and clearly, and everyone could hear.

       "So far it all seems good," I said.

       "Ay?"

       Maggie heard.

       "Debra... we don't say 'Ay', do we.  What's the word?"

       "Sorry, Maggie.  I meant pardon."

       "That's better."

       "I'm enjoying it thanks, Debra," I said, a bit louder.

       "Good," she said, patting my forearm.  "You'll be alright."

       Debra's learning disabilities were also mild.  It was only really obvious when she spoke. 

       Molly said, "What do you think of my butterfly, dear?"

       It had one blue wing and one black wing, and the body was green.

       "It's great, Molly."

       "Thank you, dear."

       She had straight hair, parted centrally and cut level with her collar - jet black, apart from a white fringe and sides which framed her face, which was very small and almost childlike.  I thought I detected a lilt in her voice.

       "Are you from Ireland, Molly?"

       At that, Debra blurted out a loud 'HAH-HAH-HAH-HAH-HAH' laugh that had suggestive undertones to it.

       Maggie instantly looked up.

       "Debra... please.  There's no need to laugh like that.  It sounds dirty."

       Debra looked miffed.  "What, Maggie?  I was only laughing.  What's wrong with having a laugh?"

       "Nothing.  It's the way you laugh."

       Debra looked at me, with her mouth hanging open.

       "No, dear," Molly said to me, with a sweet smile.  "I'm not from Ireland."

       "Sorry, Molly," I said.  "I thought it sounded like it."

       "Molly's from Faversham, aren't you Moll," said Danielle.

       "I am," Molly said.

       Debra was still looking at me.

       " 'ave you got a girlfriend, Will?"

       I didn't have chance to answer before Maggie was on the case.

       "DEBRA!" she boomed.

       That look of puzzlement again.  "What?  I was only asking a question?"

       "But it's none of your business.  It's personal."

       "Oh," Debra said, forlornly. 

       She went back to her painting, sighing heavily.

       Rex had painted his gnome entirely red.  He'd done it in about two minutes, dumped his brush in the water jar and was back to twiddling with his pencil and CD.  He was engaged in a conversation with Laura, which sounded personal.  His voice, which had started out quite normal, seemed to be rising in pitch as he became more irritated by whatever it was.  I caught brief bits of it.

       "It's just not fair, that's all," he was saying.  "Why should he get to go and I can't."

       Laura was doing her best to keep him happy.

       "You know how it is, Rex.  We all have to take turns with these things.  You went last week, didn't you."

       "That's not the point.  I don't see why I can't go now.  Just because he's going."

       "It's not just that.  We haven't got the staff to take both of you at once."

       "That's not my fault, is it.  Why is it my fault if they haven't got the staff on.  They should get the staff."

       "It isn't always that easy.  They're not just hanging on a peg, you know."

       "I know they aren't.  But that's not my fault."

       He was spinning the CD faster and faster.

       "Who's your key worker?" Laura asked him.

       "Charleen."

       "Then have a chat with Charleen.  She's on tonight."

       "What's the point? She won't do anything."

       He seemed almost like he was about to cry.  There was spittle on his chin.

       "It's not fair.  He always gets to go.  I never go."

       Laura stopped what she was doing - helping Farhad, who had paint everywhere except on his gnome - and got up.

       "Come up to the lounge for a minute, Rex.  It's quieter up there."

       He slammed the CD and pencil down then.

       "I don't want to go up to the lounge," he shouted.  "I want to go back to my room."

       With that, he got up - tipping his chair over - and left.  We could hear him as he stomped back across the courtyard.

       "It's not fair.  It's always him.  It's not fair."

       Laura phoned over to let them know he was on his way back. 

       "Rex can get a bit like that, Will.  He'll get something in his head and won't let it go.  If you can't distract him from it, it's best to just let him go back.  He'll go to his room and sulk for a bit.  Then he'll be okay."

       "Right," I said.

       "It's nothing much.  He's got a bit of a thing with Terry, which is why they don't usually come over together.  He thinks Terry gets more outings than he does.  But he doesn't.  They take it in turns with their outings.  It's just that tonight, Terry's going to his pub night in the village.  Rex wants to go, too, but he's going on Saturday instead.  He forgets that, though, and just thinks Terry goes out more than he does."

       "I see."

       "He shouldn't bring it to the Centre because it's in-house.  But you can't tell him that.  He likes a bit of an audience, too."

       There was another young woman from the farmhouse that I hadn't spoken to.  I'd heard people call her Ginny.  She had Down's Syndrome and dwarfism. She could speak, but she had difficulties articulating her words.  It sounded like a cleft palate.  She'd had an operation for a hare-lip, too.  I was quite struck by her demeanour.  I didn't want to think of it as stern - but she looked like she didn't suffer fools easily.  She had one of the birds' nest ornaments, which she was working on very slowly, using different colours all over.  I sat beside her.

       "Hello, Ginny.  That's looks nice."

       She stopped and turned her head slowly, looking at me as if to say 'Who the fuck are you?' Then she turned back to her painting and carried on as if I wasn't there.  I noticed that her fingernails, like her ornament, had all been painted in bright colours.

       "I like your nails," I said.

       She stopped and carefully put her brush down on the table.  Then she brought her hands together and looked at her nails.

       "LAURA!" she called out, very firmly and demandingly.

       Laura came over.  "What's up, Gin?"

       She held up her hands for Laura to see.

       "NAILS!"

       "They've just been done, Ginny.  They look fine.  They're lovely."

       "NAILS!" she said again, firmer this time.  She said something else, too, that I couldn't understand.  Laura had it, though.

       "Alright.  I'll do them after we've had a coffee, madam.  Alright?  Satisfied now?"

       Ginny made a small sound of acknowledgement and picked up her brush again.

       I got up to move around and Laura caught my ear.

       "Sorry, I should have mentioned Ginny's nails to you.  They're her obsession.  Once you mention them, that's all she'll talk about, and they have to be done again."

       "I'm sorry."

       "No, it's not your fault.  Like I said, I should have told you."

       Thandie came over, too.

       "There are a few like that," she added.  "Certain words.  Like Ian.  You'll find it in his care plan.  There are words that can trigger him.  Porridge is one of them, for some reason.  So don't say that around him, or he'll get agitated.  Maggie's got a client, too, who's obsessed with Christmas.  So we don't say the word around him, otherwise all he'll go on about is Christmas.  He gets so excited that it can really affect his behaviour.  He'll smear... things like that."

       "Smear?"  I'd not heard the term before.

       "Yes," she said.  "Quite a few do that.  Ian, again.  They'll scoop up their own poo and wipe it on things."

       "Ah, right.  Glad I know that now."

    (continued)  https://www.abctales.com/story/harryc/taking-care-4-vii-day-centre