I know, I know. I said I would talk about all the laughter around here, and I will. Soon. I promise.
But first, a postscript to my previous post:
It is important to emphasize the take-away of that last post. Here it is: Dean is completely cognitively functional. There is however, a critical need to develop his language skills; in this, he and Teri need our help. We were all afraid the words weren't there; now that we know the potential exists, it is our job to help Dean re-wire those damaged circuits and develop his vocabulary.
And of course you know, the best way to do that is to get him talking.
When you come to visit (and I think you should), engage him in conversation. Tell him stories, ask him questions that don't have a yes or no answer, an then, give him lots of time to respond. It takes so much work to get the thought in his head converted to an intelligible word that his tendency is to abandon the effort and flash you one of his very sweet smiles. Don't let him do that - ride his bony but and help him get the word out!
If you know the word he is trying to say, say it for him and with him until he can say it on his own. It will wear him out, but he's got to do it. If you aren't able to anticipate what he's trying to communicate, ask him to try again. He's got a terrific work ethic and if he knows your waiting, he'll keep trying. I've read that the way to trigger the brain to rebuild itself is by using the very systems that you need to develop. Want to talk? Talk more. (which is just what Dean needs to do -you can help - more on this later).
On my first evening in Venice, I learned from watching Grandma Jo, not to be satisfied with just a simple "Hi" from Dean. When she visits, she greets him by gently taking his hand in hers. She then looks him in the eye with a big warm smile on her face and gently repeats her name to him - "hi Jo" and again "hi Jo"- he tries and tries until he gets her name out so that we can recognize it. Then he laughs and laughs; he's just so tickled with himself. That laughter, my friend, is a complete and utter joy that you don't want to miss.
On that note, a big transition is about to take place in the Namba household.
Teri is returning to work this coming Wednesday. Dean is not able to be on his own yet and will need people to stay with him during the day.
How about you? Can you help out?
Already, Teri's mom, Maria, has graciously agreed to be Dean's caregiver for the first week or so.
Dean's brothers, Jim and Ralph are both planning to spend time down here. But many more volunteers are needed. You won't regret spending your day (or week) with Dean, he is a hoot and a half to hang with; though he is very busy with all the therapists coming to the house so you'll want to bring a book or something to occupy your time while he's busy re-training his brain to do all the simple things you and I take for granted.
If you are from the greater LA area, you already know what a great place Venice is. And, as you've seen from the blog pictures, Dean is always game for an outing. If you're like me, and need to take an airplane to get here, come and discover sunny Venice - it is beautiful and has a lot to offer. And -not to worry about lodging and such, there is a furnished guest room with a treadmill, your own private bathroom, cable TV and even a car for you to use. Did I mention it's only eight blocks to the beach?
So come on people, crack open those calendars and see when you are available. Got a little vacation time at work? Why don't you take that little vacation in Venice with the Nambas? You won't regret it - I guarantee it.
I'm serious about this, a hired caregiver just won't do for Dean Henry- he needs friends and family with him.
Teri has asked me to organize Dean's "care calendar," so please contact me if you can spend a day, a week or even a month with Dean. My email is: namba85@msn.com
I look forward to hearing from you ...
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Cognitively Speaking
Have you been wondering about Dean's mental facilities?
I know I was.
To tell you the truth, when I first arrived here in sunny Venice, I was a little ... how to put it... unnerved, I guess. Dean can't speak easily. And the way his attempts at words come out as sounds and grunts, it sounds a little like he's mentally challenged. You'll be happy to know, that this is not the case in any way, shape, or form. Indeed, all is well with the mind of Dean Henry.
I have proof:
Last night while cooking dinner, I needed a lid and couldn't find one. Teri was out running an errand, so I asked Dean if he remembered where the lids were.
He pointed (and grunted) to the lower cupboard to the right of the stove.
I had already looked in that cupboard and didn't see any such lids in there.
In an act of faith (and a lot of hope), I decided to look again.
This time I got down on my hands and knees, moved things around, and sure enough in the back of the cupboard I was delighted to find a pile of lids.
I know it's not rocket science, but still.
He demonstrated recognition and memory.
Later, while watching a sitcom on TV, he laughed in all the appropriate places and even caught the more subtle humorous turns of the plot.
He impressed me again this evening. I asked him if he wanted to help me cook dinner; I was making a gourmet delight - baked beans and hot dogs- and figured he could at least help me stir. At first he declined and was content to watch the news. But after a bit, he changed his mind and made his way into the kitchen. Maybe the smell of the bacon cooking lured him; that was my plan anyhow.
First, he stirred the sauteing onions and bacon. Then when it was time to open the cans, he took over. This morning his OT taught him to open a can of tuna and he knew just what to do.
I held the opener on the can and he turned the crank until he determined the device had made the full circumference and that the lid was off. Of course he got it precisely right. After he opened the beans and put them in the pan, it was time to add the flavorings.
I told him what ingredients we needed - ketchup, mustard and brown sugar. Though it took great physical effort, he went to the appropriate location and found each item. He seemed to have a little trouble recognizing the ketchup, but when I asked him to look for something red, he went right to it.
As he added each ingredient to the pot, Dean easily figured out how to open the containers. Then he assessed and reassessed (remember he's a righty using his left hand now), how to pour it in, and make adjustments to his technique so he could add just the right amount. After the beans simmered for a bit, I had him taste for flavor. He deemed they were a bit bland and asked (read: pointed) for more chili powder. His assessment was correct and the beans were delicious after we added the extra spice.
Dean decided Riley should cook the hot dogs. While the boy did that masterfully, Dean took on the task of emptying the clean silverware basket from the dishwasher. He picked up each piece of flatware, studied it and placed it in the proper slot. Every once in awhile, he'd start to put a teaspoon with the soup spoons. But as soon as he the got teaspoon close to the larger soup spoons, he caught his error and made the adjustment.
After that job was done, he maneuvered his wheelchair out to the living room to rest for awhile.
When I asked him if he wanted to eat his beans with a fork or spoon, he shrugged his shoulders to say he didn't know. I replied, "Okay, guess we'll have to have both on the table then."
Guess who wheeled his way into the kitchen and put both forks and spoons next to the plates?
Yep, Dean Henry.
Keep in mind, all this was after both an OT and a PT session today. Each of which lasted for two hours and was jam packed with the work of re-learning all the simple tasks you and I take for granted. Not only is Dean firing on all chargers, he's determined.
I feel privileged, not to mention humbled, to be able to witness his impressive progress.
Next time I log in, I'll tell you about the rampant laughter and humor in this household. I only hope on can convey half of Dean's good cheer!
Until then,
~Bon
I know I was.
To tell you the truth, when I first arrived here in sunny Venice, I was a little ... how to put it... unnerved, I guess. Dean can't speak easily. And the way his attempts at words come out as sounds and grunts, it sounds a little like he's mentally challenged. You'll be happy to know, that this is not the case in any way, shape, or form. Indeed, all is well with the mind of Dean Henry.
I have proof:
Last night while cooking dinner, I needed a lid and couldn't find one. Teri was out running an errand, so I asked Dean if he remembered where the lids were.
He pointed (and grunted) to the lower cupboard to the right of the stove.
I had already looked in that cupboard and didn't see any such lids in there.
In an act of faith (and a lot of hope), I decided to look again.
This time I got down on my hands and knees, moved things around, and sure enough in the back of the cupboard I was delighted to find a pile of lids.
I know it's not rocket science, but still.
He demonstrated recognition and memory.
Later, while watching a sitcom on TV, he laughed in all the appropriate places and even caught the more subtle humorous turns of the plot.
He impressed me again this evening. I asked him if he wanted to help me cook dinner; I was making a gourmet delight - baked beans and hot dogs- and figured he could at least help me stir. At first he declined and was content to watch the news. But after a bit, he changed his mind and made his way into the kitchen. Maybe the smell of the bacon cooking lured him; that was my plan anyhow.
First, he stirred the sauteing onions and bacon. Then when it was time to open the cans, he took over. This morning his OT taught him to open a can of tuna and he knew just what to do.
I held the opener on the can and he turned the crank until he determined the device had made the full circumference and that the lid was off. Of course he got it precisely right. After he opened the beans and put them in the pan, it was time to add the flavorings.
I told him what ingredients we needed - ketchup, mustard and brown sugar. Though it took great physical effort, he went to the appropriate location and found each item. He seemed to have a little trouble recognizing the ketchup, but when I asked him to look for something red, he went right to it.
As he added each ingredient to the pot, Dean easily figured out how to open the containers. Then he assessed and reassessed (remember he's a righty using his left hand now), how to pour it in, and make adjustments to his technique so he could add just the right amount. After the beans simmered for a bit, I had him taste for flavor. He deemed they were a bit bland and asked (read: pointed) for more chili powder. His assessment was correct and the beans were delicious after we added the extra spice.
Dean decided Riley should cook the hot dogs. While the boy did that masterfully, Dean took on the task of emptying the clean silverware basket from the dishwasher. He picked up each piece of flatware, studied it and placed it in the proper slot. Every once in awhile, he'd start to put a teaspoon with the soup spoons. But as soon as he the got teaspoon close to the larger soup spoons, he caught his error and made the adjustment.
After that job was done, he maneuvered his wheelchair out to the living room to rest for awhile.
When I asked him if he wanted to eat his beans with a fork or spoon, he shrugged his shoulders to say he didn't know. I replied, "Okay, guess we'll have to have both on the table then."
Guess who wheeled his way into the kitchen and put both forks and spoons next to the plates?
Yep, Dean Henry.
Keep in mind, all this was after both an OT and a PT session today. Each of which lasted for two hours and was jam packed with the work of re-learning all the simple tasks you and I take for granted. Not only is Dean firing on all chargers, he's determined.
I feel privileged, not to mention humbled, to be able to witness his impressive progress.
Next time I log in, I'll tell you about the rampant laughter and humor in this household. I only hope on can convey half of Dean's good cheer!
Until then,
~Bon
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Wednesday October 7th
Guest Blogger Bonnie signing in.
The best way to describe the feeling here at the Namba home in Venice is, peaceful.
Very peaceful.
Despite the fact that their lives have been completely derailed, Dean and Teri have begun to rebuild their new life in a most remarkable way.
Dean (I promise to elaborate more on his precise condition in a minute) appears to be completely at peace with the work he is to do. There is a sense of utter bliss about him that I wish we could all tap into. He is living in the moment, and taking each one as he can;
rebuilding those brain cells minute by minute, day by day.
Teri is completely devoted to helping Dean recover and re-learn all those pesky details that his left brain used to manage for him. Her energy is amazing and seemingly undying. I cannot think of a better person to help someone rebuild all those circuits that just a few months ago were swimming in a pool of blood.
When I arrived yesterday, Dean's OT, Pam, was teaching him how to fold laundry.
She had him stand at the kitchen table with his stronger left leg elevated on a phone book covered with duct tape (to keep his foot from sliding off) so that his weaker right leg could support his body. Not only does this stance build strength in the right leg, it also aids in re-circuiting the brain-reminding it, that yes, indeed, we do use that right leg!
With the laundry spread out on the table before him, his task was to reach for an article of clothing, spread it out, and then fold it - just like they do at the Gap. All the while Pam would ask him questions and, get this, he would answer!
" Dean, who's shirt is that?" A bit of a pause, "Mah - ree -ah's."
"Dean, who's pants are those?" wheels turning, "Riley's."
Then lots of laughter, because he could make those thoughts into words - the right words.
Not yet an easy accomplishment for Dean.
It was visibly tiring, but he folded the entire load.
To my amazement, after this work session, Dean was game to go out for dinner.
Just as the sun was beginning to set over the Pacific, the three of us (Riley just had to go to Grandma Jo's his first night back), headed into Santa Monica and went to Houston's for a lovely meal in a chic L.A. restaurant.
Imagine the courage that takes. Walking into a crowded restaurant.
Well, maybe I should explain walking for Dean these days.
Although he has the option of the wheelchair, he chose the cane for this outing. That means something like this: Cane in left hand, right arm hanging rather useless in a brace at his side. First, he places the cane where he wants it. Then he drags the right foot forward, cane again, then the left foot. Or, something like that. The point is, it's a slow and thoughtful process. Each step is planned with care and great focus.
Yet, Dean walked through that restaurant like a champ.
Teri at his side, the whole way, making sure the path was safe and clear.
We had a terrific meal, with terrific conversation.
Dean had sushi - which he ate with chopsticks.
Pretty amazing my friends, pretty amazing.
Oh - do I dare mention that Dean and Teri carried on like newlyweds at dinner?
Kissing and holding hands - so happy to be in each other's company and so happy to be out in the real world.
As you can tell, it was a wonderful evening.
The best way to describe the feeling here at the Namba home in Venice is, peaceful.
Very peaceful.
Despite the fact that their lives have been completely derailed, Dean and Teri have begun to rebuild their new life in a most remarkable way.
Dean (I promise to elaborate more on his precise condition in a minute) appears to be completely at peace with the work he is to do. There is a sense of utter bliss about him that I wish we could all tap into. He is living in the moment, and taking each one as he can;
rebuilding those brain cells minute by minute, day by day.
Teri is completely devoted to helping Dean recover and re-learn all those pesky details that his left brain used to manage for him. Her energy is amazing and seemingly undying. I cannot think of a better person to help someone rebuild all those circuits that just a few months ago were swimming in a pool of blood.
When I arrived yesterday, Dean's OT, Pam, was teaching him how to fold laundry.
She had him stand at the kitchen table with his stronger left leg elevated on a phone book covered with duct tape (to keep his foot from sliding off) so that his weaker right leg could support his body. Not only does this stance build strength in the right leg, it also aids in re-circuiting the brain-reminding it, that yes, indeed, we do use that right leg!
With the laundry spread out on the table before him, his task was to reach for an article of clothing, spread it out, and then fold it - just like they do at the Gap. All the while Pam would ask him questions and, get this, he would answer!
" Dean, who's shirt is that?" A bit of a pause, "Mah - ree -ah's."
"Dean, who's pants are those?" wheels turning, "Riley's."
Then lots of laughter, because he could make those thoughts into words - the right words.
Not yet an easy accomplishment for Dean.
It was visibly tiring, but he folded the entire load.
To my amazement, after this work session, Dean was game to go out for dinner.
Just as the sun was beginning to set over the Pacific, the three of us (Riley just had to go to Grandma Jo's his first night back), headed into Santa Monica and went to Houston's for a lovely meal in a chic L.A. restaurant.
Imagine the courage that takes. Walking into a crowded restaurant.
Well, maybe I should explain walking for Dean these days.
Although he has the option of the wheelchair, he chose the cane for this outing. That means something like this: Cane in left hand, right arm hanging rather useless in a brace at his side. First, he places the cane where he wants it. Then he drags the right foot forward, cane again, then the left foot. Or, something like that. The point is, it's a slow and thoughtful process. Each step is planned with care and great focus.
Yet, Dean walked through that restaurant like a champ.
Teri at his side, the whole way, making sure the path was safe and clear.
We had a terrific meal, with terrific conversation.
Dean had sushi - which he ate with chopsticks.
Pretty amazing my friends, pretty amazing.
Oh - do I dare mention that Dean and Teri carried on like newlyweds at dinner?
Kissing and holding hands - so happy to be in each other's company and so happy to be out in the real world.
As you can tell, it was a wonderful evening.
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