Taking Care 4 (i) - Day Centre

       I arrived at ten to nine the next morning to find the day centre Previa already being loaded.  Malcolm was taking charge of it, like a bossy father marshalling a bunch of unruly teenagers.  Thandie was there, too, checking seatbelts and making sure that people had what they needed.

       "Here's your lot for the day," Malcolm said as I walked up.  I looked in and could see Steven, Shirley and Ian in the back seats, Greg, Jamie and Jake in the middle seats - all excited and chatty.  Jamie's 'bleating' sound that I'd read about was very evident.  He was only a young man, about twenty, with a wide smile and mischievous eyes.  He was wearing a padded helmet - a bit like a cycle helmet - and I could see from the way he was sitting that his legs were stiff and crooked. 

       "Give it a rest now, Jim," said Malcolm.  "They don't want that racket in their lug 'oles."

       Jamie looked at him and grinned.  Then he raised up his left hand in a very clear 'V' sign and laughed.

       "You too, sunshine," Malcolm retorted.

       I couldn't help chuckling.  It was a nice ice-breaker.

       "Are... are you coming with us to the Centre today, Will?" Shirley asked.

       Before I could answer, Malcolm was straight on her case.

       "Why are you asking silly questions?"  This time, there was no sense of light-heartedness in his words.  Shirley looked at him and widened her eyes, and for a brief moment I thought she was going to cry.

       "I... I'm sorry, Malcolm."

       "We've been through all this already.  What's happening today?"

       "T-Thandie is bringing W-Will to the Centre with us."

       "And why?"

       She looked a bit baffled, like she didn't know what to say.  Then it was like a light bulb went on in her head.

       "S-So that Will can see what h-happens there."

       "Exactly.  So there was no need to ask, was there."

       "N-No.  S-Sorry."

       She sat back in her seat, clutching her handbag, and mumbled something to herself.  The others seemed to be settling down at last.  Greg - he was the Down's Syndrome man with autism, I remembered - was sitting behind the driver's seat with his balding head stuck against the window.  He was wearing thick glasses which were  covered in smears.  These brief things were all I really had chance to notice before Malcolm backed out and slid the door shut.  I got in the front next to Thandie.  Between us was an insulated fridge bag and a small rucksack.

       "Lunch and Ian's meds, plus Jamie's spare pads," she said.

       "Have a delightful day," Malcolm chirped to me as he shut my door.  There was that same tone of irony in it that I'd heard from him before. He looked in the back and raised his hand, then turned and went straight back indoors.

       Thandie got us rolling, and half a minute later we were waiting at the lights at the bottom of the hill.  She switched the radio on, tuned it to a local pop station, and breathed a sigh of relief.

       "It's always a bit fraught first thing," she said.  "They get so excited."

       I nodded.  By contrast, with the journey underway, it had become remarkably quiet and settled in the back.  I turned and looked at those faces. Greg still had his head against the window, looking out.  He had his tongue sticking out and it curled almost to his chin.  Jamie was next to him, then Jake behind me.  In the back, Shirley was still clutching her bag, looking wide-eyed out at the passing street.  Next to her was Ian, who was rocking and making a gurgling noise, rather like a happy baby's.  He was rubbing his bunched finger tips together in front of him, like he was sifting flour.  He was about thirty and bald except for some bushy red bits around his ears.  Steven was in the last seat.  He was in his early twenties.  He, I remembered, also had cerebral palsy.  He had a very long and narrow face and seemed quite calm and placid as he looked out of the window, chatting to himself.

       Jamie let out a quick bleat, making Shirley turn her head.  She noticed me looking back.

       "H-Have you got my ci-ci-cigarettes, Will?"

       "I've got them, Shirley," said Thandie.  "Don't worry."  She glanced at me.  "Shirley has one at morning tea break, one after lunch, then the other at afternoon tea break.  You just need to check them out of the office before you leave in the mornings."

       "Okay," I said.

       "We got off in good time today, so should be there nice and early," she went on.  "Some days it takes ages.  We can usually get there in half an hour, though." 

       "What happens on Tuesdays?" I asked.

       "There's a timetable in the back of the diary," she said, nudging it.  "But Tuesdays are Literacy first thing for everyone.  Then after break we have split groups for cookery, daily living skills and golf."

       "Golf?"

       "Yes.  It's usually a group of five or six, whoever wants to go.  It's a little driving range a couple of miles down the road from the Centre.  They each have a bucket of balls, hit them off, then have a drink in the bar before coming back for lunch.  You're there and back in under an hour.  After lunch on Tuesdays it's Arts and Crafts for everyone."

       "Okay."

       I looked at the timetable.  It was all very rigidly divided up - just like at school, I thought.  Sessions beginning at 9:45.  Tea break at 10:45.  Lunch at 12:00.  The afternoons started at 1:30, break at 2:45,  finish at 4:00. The sessions were pretty much as I imagined they would be.  A fair amount of practical and creative stuff, which was good.  Cookery.  Music.  Games, too.  And outings - though underneath it said 'when possible' in brackets.  Everyone did things like Daily Living Skills, Numeracy and Literacy (I couldn't help noticing it was spelt 'Litracy', and felt a little mean for it). They seemed like quite formal terms to use.  I wondered what would be wrong with Reading or Counting, but maybe that was making presumptions about the skills people had.

       "What are literacy and numeracy levels like, generally?" I asked.

       Thandie thought for a moment.  "I'd say basic or non-existent for most people.  There are a handful who can read, write and count.  Shirley's good at all of those things, aren't you Shirley?"

       Shirley perked up.

       "A-Am I good at those th-things, Thandie?"

       "That's what I said, Shirley.  You are."

       "Yes," Shirley retorted, though without much enthusiasm.

       Thandie went on.  "She can do a lot for herself, as I said before.  With others, you need to do most things.  Read them any letters they get.  Keep track of their finances.  Mostly they won't have any concept of money."

       "So it's only basic stuff we're teaching, then."

       She nodded.  "Not really teaching.  More like guiding and supporting.  Some people simply don't have the capacity to learn very much.  I'd say it all comes under the umbrella of Daily Living Skills, really."  She gestured to the timetable.  "We do have some flexibility with it, and I've been trying to inject a bit more.  Not everyone enjoys all the sessions.  Some are less capable than others.  It's a bit 'one-size-fits-all', so you have to make adjustments.  People should have more choice.  Greg will always do his own thing, for instance."  She called back.  "Won't you, Greg."

       He looked up briefly at the mention of his name - then he caught me looking at him and put his head down again.  The window beside him was already covered in forehead prints.    

       "The thing is," she went on, "a lot of it is managed by the other Skills staff, who've been doing it for years.  There's Laura, from the home attached to the Centre, and Maggie from the home in Sittingbourne.  Laura's the most senior staff member, so she's the lynch-pin there." She lowered her voice and glanced at me with a wink.  "Maggie's got the loudest voice, though.  I have to be careful what I say because there are ears behind us!"

       I nodded again.

       "You'll see what I mean," she said.

       The journey seemed to go smoothly enough.  I could hear Greg chatting away to himself, and Ian making that occasional gurgling sound again - usually accompanied by rocking.

       "Ian's happy," Thandie said.  "That's his happy sound.  Same with Jamie and his bleating."

       As if on cue, Jamie let out a loud 'BAHHHH'.

       "A lot of the staff find their behaviours bothersome or irritating, but it's natural for them.  Does it bother you at all?"

       "No," I said.  "It's fine."

       "That's good," she said.

       An advert came on the radio.  It had a familiar jingle, which Greg repeated afterwards, chuckling to himself as he did so.

       "He does that," said Thandie.  "He's a brilliant mimic.  That's why you have to watch what you say, because he'll copy you."

       I noticed, too, that Steven was chatting to himself - almost like he was giving orders to someone.  He had a very cultivated voice, too, it seemed.  What we used to call 'posh-sounding'.

       "This is how it's done," he said.  "Like this... that's right.  That's the way, Steven.  Well done, Steven."

       Thandie explained: "Steven's repeating things he heard as a young boy, when he was still at home with mum and dad.  It's mainly the things his dad used to say to him.  Dad's well-educated, as you can imagine.  You can usually tell from what he's saying what kind of mood he's in.  Those things are fine.  But if it gets to 'telling-off' or 'angry' words and phrases, you need to watch it.  It can mean he's building up to a meltdown.  He's calm and placid now, but if he's upset he can get agitated and lash out at anyone around him.  It's best to get people away and leave him alone until he's calm again."      

       "What causes the mood changes?" I asked.

       "Little things.  People annoying him.  Unexpected noises.  You'll get to know as you go along.  That's why seating arrangements are important in the vehicle, too.  Certain people don't go well next to one another.  You wouldn't put Steven next to Ian or Jamie, for instance.  That's why Shirley's in the middle."

       "Got it," I said.

       I'd been feeling a bit more relaxed - or, at least, a bit less anxious than I had first thing.  But I had another pang then.  It was just all so new and unknown, and so much to remember.  And, in some ways - judging by what Thandie had said - unpredictable.  I think she may have picked up on it.

       "Don't worry," she said.  "You'll have support.  Like I said, nothing really serious has happened in my three years.  Give it a month and you'll be set."

       "Thanks," I said.  "I hope so.  I am looking forward to it."

       "I'll be here, too, for the next three weeks.  It'll be handy having an extra staff member.  Just watch, ask questions, join in..." She flashed me another of those quick smiles.  "And enjoy it!"  She lifted her voice again.  "We all enjoy it, don't we guys!"

       There were various noises that seemed to signal assent.

       "Fun today!" Jake piped up, loudly, right in my ear.

       "That's right, Jake.  Fun.  That's what it's all about."

       Shirley coughed.  "I-Is that wh-what it's all about, Thandie?"

       "Absolutely!"

       I felt that little pang gradually drift away again.

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