My job affords me many an opportunity to do things that I would not have otherwise had the chance to do: I've witnessed the birth of a baby up close and personal; I've held the hand of a person as she passed away; I've served as family to a client attending the services of his estranged mother; I've been in full hospital scrubs providing words of comfort & encouragement as a client received an angio-gram; I've successfully redirected a client in the process of being taken down by a pile of police officers. (We won't mention the opportunity I had to "rescue" a client off of the merry-go-round at Great America, although that should probably be included.) Now, a tone of you can say the same thing--after all, people are in delivery rooms all the time--but, you probably didn't do these things with persons with schizophrenia. I tell you that fact only because it changes the game.
It makes doing these things filled with even more gratitude than I could have possibly experienced otherwise.
This week, I drove a client out of town so he could attend the visitation and funeral of his mom. I can't tell you many details but, I can tell you that this particular person with schizophrenia asked many an interesting question and behaved in a manner that would catch most of your attention. Most of you wouldn't loudly ask questions about the coffin or the embalming process as you are standing in front of the casket. You probably wouldn't say aloud the things you were thinking, especially on a microphone in front of the mourners in attendance and you wouldn't be yipping the entire time you were serving as a last-minute pall bearer....
...those are all things I anticipated would happen--and, as anticipated, they did.
That's not what made being part of a client's experience so special and what touched me to my very core. I have tons of hilarious stories (told with not one shred of disrespect to those I serve), but that's not what these experiences are about. Here's a guy who experiences life in what I would consider a non-emotional, factual, logical, almost robotic fashion. There's data, facts, figures, questions, questions, questions, often what we would consider incongruent to the situation. There's a weird, odd slant to life that is grounded in some other place than where the majority of the world lives. So, when he was at the funeral, I was not surprised or bothered or concerned about his questions and relative-to-the-situation inappropriate behaviors. I stood in the foyer, ready to intervene or provide support or do whatever it was I thought I was going to need to do or what he asked me to do. I was the expert, present to ensure something of what I am not sure. The family knew who I was and why I was there, so really nothing was surprising whatsoever. As I settled in to my seat in the foyer, I heard something. It was loud and unmistakable. I stood up and went to the door.
All those things I anticipated....but, I didn't anticipate this...
...he sobbed. He sobbed openly and loudly and genuinely and completely....an incredibly appropriate and angst-filled response to seeing his mother for the first time in years.
I was taken aback. Here's a guy who shows no emotion on a daily basis and he's sobbing in front of the casket. I am ashamed to admit that I hadn't anticipated this or had thought otherwise--why I thought a person with schizophrenia would react in a manner any different than anyone else was just as judgmental and tainted with stigma as an a person uneducated about mental illness. Because he has schizophrenia and has a whole different take on the world doesn't make him less human, less capable of pain or feeling or angst or grief.
It was in that moment that I was completely and totally filled with emotion and reminded of why I am the luckiest person on earth to have a job as I do.
Another moment in life that I will never forget.
(It also served as a reminder that I can be an arrogant, judgmental, condescending ass. Sometimes the Universe needs to slap the humility back into me.)
After he finished with the intense and genuine display of his most personal emotion, he settled back in to his "normal" self. After the service, I drove him to the grave site and watched from my car, giving him the space and dignity that he so much deserved. I watched as they handed him a shovel. I could see he was thinking about this. He tentatively threw a shovelful of dirt onto the casket. And then, quite to my utter delight, he continued to throw more shovelfuls of dirt--others had thrown only one shovelful of dirt but he was gonna throw as many as he damn well pleased. When done, he handed the shovel to the next person and then wiped his hands on his pants.
He came back to my car, dirt all over his pants, hopped in and wondered aloud where he and I were doing for dinner. I took one look at his pants and laughed. This was the guy I know and love and anticipated.
I thanked him for the opportunity to be present at such a moment in his life. His response? "No problem."
I then silently thanked the Universe for the best job on the planet. I'm a better human being because of people like him.
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