Striking out on your own

I have been working with a woman for several months who has been increasingly miserable in her job. There is a major change underway in the top echelons of her company. She represents the old guard and she's not sure what her role will be in the years to come. Mostly she hates the long hush-hush, closed door meetings and the current absence of a clear chain of command. She learned recently that an independent firm, which does just what she does now, is up for sale. She has the experience, the contacts, and a client base already established. If she were able to buy out the independent firm, she could have her own business doing what she loves without having to deal with the ever-shifting company politics. The timing is exquisite since her house is paid off, her kids are through school and on their own, and her husband's business is thriving.

I told her about setting up my practice. At the time it seemed like a lot of cash up front to rent an office, to furnish it and furnish me with some proper professional attire. I bought second-hand furniture which I've gradually been replacing with nicer items. I still use the thirty dollar desk I bought eight years ago. I have to re-glue the drawers which loosen up each winter. I keep a bottle of wood glue handy. I share a secretary and phone and I do my own bookwork which keeps down expenses. I was amazed when my business broke even after only seven months and I managed to clear a tiny profit after ten. I'm still amazed.

To run your own business, it's necessary to be a self-starter and highly disciplined. This woman has those attributes. And it really helps to have someone by your side saying "you can do this". I sent her on a fact finding mission so she can determine whether buying the business or starting from scratch will be the best route. In closing, she said wistfully I always told my kids to do what they love. Then she smiled.

Stuck

Thank God it's Saturday! It's been another hard week. It's been a good kind of hard where I know I've done some first-rate work, but my body and brain feel beaten. Within the past four weeks, I have had two new couples to work with and four new individuals. The newest one came in yesterday and it was an intense two hour interview. She was born in the late 1950's a month premature. She weighed in at a little over 3 pounds. Soon it was discovered she had an impacted bowel and in a last ditch effort to save her life, surgery was performed. Her early formative weeks were spent in the hospital and for the next 9 years she rotated in and out of hospitals. This prevented the formation of a good bond with her mother and plunged the family into financial disaster. She recalled they had to sell the family car and Dad had to bike a long distance to work.

Her opening words to me were " I feel stuck". At first I considered that might mean her birth had been a long arduous one. But as soon as I heard about her prematurity, the multiple surgeries and hospitalizations, I knew feeling stuck was the theme song of her life. She'd been stuck in an incubator and stuck repeatedly in hospitals. And she'd been stuck over and over with needles, syringes, IVs and who knows what else. It was such a sad story, but everything else in her life began to make sense in light of this horrendous medical history. I came away knowing I would be able to help her even though it will take some time to do so. And as I reviewed the new people I am working with, I realized that these are all tough cases.

One couple doesn't appear will require long term treatment. Unconsciously they did not want to have a second baby, and this drive was so strong that they were destroying their marriage to make sure it wouldn't happen. Once that was uncovered, they began to see that just having one kid was perfectly ok and they were easily able to get back on track. Where do you find that in the analytic books? That a couple would nearly bail out of a perfectly good marriage just to avoid having a second baby?

Oh, and in addition there are still those daily trips to the hospital. Mother seems more comfortable this week. It could be the result of the second epidural. She is more aware and involved in life. She asked me to send off her pledge check to her church, to trim her nails, to write a thank you to her church for the flowers they brought her, and to check what doctor's appointments she had for October. This reflects a vast improvement; however she still needs two people to put her on the pot and can only use the walker with her physical therapist or an aide helping her. She walked 150 feet yesterday and that's an accomplishment. I don't know what is normal anymore. For the time being, normal is includes a once a day visit to the hospital. I caught myself referring to it as my appointment with my mother. Weird expression, but that's what it is.

T'was a good day..

I have enjoyed a blessedly normal day and a productive one at that. The house painters arrived this morning and spent the day power washing the house. Oh, it's going to look so great once they are done! I worked inside on the bathroom that will soon be re-papered. I washed down the log walls and used scratch remover on all the dark woodwork. It's looking better already. I also washed the curtains and canopy in our bedroom.

It's suddenly gotten very cool which might explain my burst of energy. It was too nice a day not to experience first hand, so I took an easy amble in the woods. The sassafras has changed and the maples are beginning to gain color. The woods have shrunk back significantly in the past few days. Yesterday I sent off my brother's birthday box, so I'm beginning to think of presents for the October and November birthday boys. I even ordered one Christmas gift this morning which is so totally un-me, that I astonish myself.

Mother was perky today. She'd had her hair done yesterday and a second epidural this morning. I brought her in a butterscotch sundae. She mumbled something about just having eaten lunch. I said that she didn't have to eat it if she didn't want it, but then she asked me if I had remembered to bring a spoon. She polished the whole thing off, scrapping right down to the very bottom of the dish. Today she was most appreciative of the hospital and its staff. Some days all she does is gripe. At least I could leave her in a good state and didn't have to worry. Hubster has called in the speech pathologist to see if there is anything to be done to help her expressive aphasia. I have my doubts, but at the very least it's more company during the day. Her church has been wonderful. They've sent cards, flowers and visited her. She has relished the attention.

Back home, the scent of pulled pork cooking in the crock pot was a lovely greeting when I entered the house. I picked up People magazine's Best and Worst dressed issue for some utterly vapid reading or as my youngest says to do some serious contemporary cultural research. I was also happy to learn when I checked my online news sources that the state police of Louisiana are tough on crime...nabbing Willie Nelson and cohorts for possession of marijuana. I wonder what made them check out his tour bus? I doubt if it will tarnish Willie's reputation. It will probably enhance it. Johnny Cash played up his prison record all his life.

After a good dinner with hubster and son, I downloaded some tracks from Diana Krall's newly released CD which I am enjoying as I type this. It has been a good day indeed and that is a very fine thing.

In Everything there is a Season

It seems that this is a season of letting go for me. My on-going question seems to be "what are you hanging on to?". And when something is over, do I spend too much time looking backwards and risk turning into a pillar of salt like Lot's wife? A pillar of salt... someone crystallized by their own tears.

Experience tells me that when an old patient leaves, a new one arrives. It tells me that what I view as an excellent result may not be what the patient has in mind. A person comes in with a D grade life may leave, delighted, with their new and improved C+ life. I'm the only one who knows that a B+ is possible for them. But there are others who keep working because they want to have the neatest life possible. In those cases, their hard work is not only benefiting them, but the lives of their children and grandchildren. Others are with me just for a short season and I have to have some faith, that the changes are still on-going in them. After all, there are interactions we have with people which may be brief yet are life-changing.

Sometimes it takes several people to get the job done. One angry alcoholic, who claimed he wanted to drink himself to death, was seen for a while by my training analyst. Perhaps a year later, I started seeing his wife and I treated her for almost two years. She left treatment for financial reasons when her husband finally got fired (long overdue) for his drunkenness and absenteeism. I got word several months later that once he was fired, he sobered up and he has remained so since.

A beautiful seventeen year old girl recently let go of her boyfriend. Last spring he was in a terrible car wreck which resulted in severe spinal injuries and brain damage. It was touch and go for him, but he made it and is now home recuperating. The boy she once loved is gone forever, but the boy and his family have hung on to her as if she alone were responsible for his well-being. It was a horrible place to put this young girl. Bless her heart she stayed with him until he got home but her life was being side-lined with his. There is another boy in her life now and she was unsure if it was ok to date him. Her mother thought she should wait a bit. I said go for it. She's been locked into a tragedy not of her making for way too long. Let her be a kid again and enjoy her life.

Trust vs Obedience

I got fired this week. I have been working with two adopted sisters for seven and half years. In July, the older sister told me that the two of them were sneaking out of the house at night to meet friends. This put me in a horrible bind. I knew their Mom and Dad would be furious with them if they caught them, and they would be livid with me if they learned that I knew and didn't tell them what was happening. But I was told this in confidence, so I did not tell their Mom and Dad. I didn't even let on to the younger sister that her sister told me about their nocturnal capers. The only good part was that I didn't feel they were in any real danger. It was stupid kid stuff, but it was also a flagrant violation of their household rules. I had to work on resolving this mess in the best way I could. In Freudian terms, these girls operate with impulse-driven ids. Their Mom and Dad function as their super-ego. I have been the ego, mirroring more mature thinking and helping them strengthen their egos.

Well, the shit hit the fan this week. Dad found out about the sneaking and lying. At first the girls may have thought I'd ratted them out. In order to deflect Dad's rage away from them, the older girl let it be known that I was aware of what they had been doing. Dad fired me in front of the girls accusing me of not caring about his daughters. That stung because I care for them very much. My response to Dad was to remind him of confidentiality and how essential it was that the girls learn to trust me. That fell on deaf ears. It was a lose-lose situation: either I violate the girls' trust or I violate the trust their parents placed in me.

The younger girl started crying. I hugged her with tears in my eyes and told her that I would miss her too. The older girl hung her head. She'd set me up and she knew it. I hugged her too. My boss thinks the older girl did this to avoid talking about the hard stuff. She'd rather run headlong into adulthood in an attempt to leave behind the horrible, painful, scary stuff of her first family. It's easier to run, lie, cover-up and pretend. I had to go.

Was I mad? Yes. And very sad too, when I realized that I was the only one who cared that their old fetid emotional sores were debrided and treated. Obedience was more valued than learning to trust.

Thank you NYFD

Our New Yorker with one of New York's Bravest.

Leveling Off

The last few days I have been much less anxious about Mother. Good thing too since work has been hard this week. Not bad, just hard. It's really strange since training analyst is gone for week #2, sous-analyst is on vacation, my esteemed colleague to the east (aka Mecte) is off at a conference, and one secretary decided this was a great time to be sick. That leaves only me and our secretary, who is manning three phones and the schedules of five shrinks. She's maintaining her sanity quite admirably. We have heard very little from the boss man so I guess he trusts us to keep the ship afloat until everyone returns. But it's way too quiet in the building.

Mother has perked up a lot in the past two days. She's been sitting in a chair for longer periods She has lost a great deal of weight and strength. Her downward spiral has stopped and her status is evening out, albeit at a lower level of functioning. This is allowing me to breathe deeper. I am no longer jumping every time the phone rings. There is, however, a new twist to this saga. The hospital radiologist sent Mother's MRI off for a second opinion and that opinion is she has an extruded disc fragment. This is unrelated to her first back surgery and is believed to be the cause of her severe pain. Hubster sent her MRI to a back surgeon for his opinion. Oh boy! Another wrinkle in the plot. My mind began to race as I considered the logistics of surgery not to mention the risks. At this point, mother's health has had so many ups and down, twists, and switchbacks that I'm refusing to waste anymore mental energy obsessing about the "what-ifs". So if today is the day, I read to her and then tomorrow may be the day I round up something she needs. To think farther ahead is counterproductive and definitely not fun. After all, who ever obsessed about fun stuff?

Meanwhile I"m back to thinking about selecting some new wallpaper and that's definitely more enjoyable. I may just take off someplace out of town to do so. My, that's sounding awfully nice even if just for part of the day. Perhaps Monday....

The old leather notebook

Today I brought an old friend over to mother. When she was seventeen she started her poetry notebook. Over the next few years, she'd carefully copy down her favorite poems and her little brown leather notebook was gradually filled with the works of famous and not-so-famous poets. There were poems by Amy Lowell, Emily Dickinson, Walter de la Mare, Sara Teasdale, Elizabeth Barrett Browning and a fair sprinkling of writings by the ever-popular author, Anonymous. Her penmanship was once elegant, but the ink has now faded after seventy plus years. The notebook entries were dated from 1934 to 1938 and then there were no more entries until September 1988 shortly after her husband's (my Dad) death. Then she added Oliver Wendall Holmes' "The Chambered Nautilus". That was one I read to her today. The familiar words of these much loved poems brought a blessed respite.

I read a wide variety of poems and when I stopped, she asked me where she could keep her notebook. I hesitated for fear it might get lost, but she really wanted to be able just to touch it. I lay it down on her tray right where she could rest her hand upon the cover of her very dear old friend.

Not total gloom

I wish I didn't have to write another sad post, but mother is no better. She's been moved to the rehab unit. She's off IVs but hubster had to up her morphine dosage again this morning. This is in addition to Vicodin every 4 hours. He's been simply wonderful to her. She was quite comfortable this afternoon, however she kept nodding off as I read to her. I washed her slippers today and took some of her clothes out to her. I had to wonder if she'll ever wear them again. She's not sitting up and most ominously she's eaten next to nothing for the past three weeks.

However.....on a more positive note, it was good to see the sibs and how pleased mother was to have them visit. Also, we've been blessed with perfectly gorgeous weather this weekend. Hubster and I took a leisurely walk in the woods this morning and we've opened the house for the first time in many weeks. Thus I am enjoying the busy sounds of the evening as I type. I've also downloaded some new songs which always makes me happy. And we were given some catfish fillets which I fried up Cajun style for dinner tonight. To that I added some fresh green beans, hash browns and slaw. T'was a marvelous candlelit meal eaten out on the back porch with the good hubster and son. After supper I indulged myself in some internet clothes shopping. So there is happiness in the midst of all of this. I need to remind myself that I am able to escape from the hospital, I am healthy and I can and should enjoy my life. It's plain stupid not to.

Long winding road

This has been the strangest week. In one day I celebrated my oldest daughter's 28th birthday, summoned my siblings to mother's bedside for a death watch, remembered the anniversary of my dad's death and then discovered my boss had suddenly left mid-day without an explanation. Patients were scheduled non-stop so I really couldn't allow myself to dwell on the events occurring outside of the inner sanctum (my term for what analysts call the consulting room). It was so good to end the day with a lovely phone call to the birthday girl.

And sleep was fitful as it has been for the past two weeks. This is not fun. Then yesterday mother rebounded significantly. Siblings arrived and were questioning why they had been called. I learned that the boss had a case of food poisoning. His hasty departure made perfect sense. And I'm still exhausted. This stuff is so maddening too because all the normal stuff you want to do like getting new tires for the car, running to the cleaners, washing the stinky dog or selecting wallpaper end up shelved. And there's no clear point at which I know I'll be able to tend to these things. People have been wishing me a good weekend and I can think only of more trips out to the hospital.

Mother has rebounded before and then slipped again. Over the past 4 months, there have been some modest temporary improvements but alas the overall curve has been steadily downhill. Son sighed and said "Will I have to go through this with you?" I don't know the answer to that question. I do know that sometimes life is just plain hard and the right path is not always the easy one. I know that working through the tough times makes a person stronger and that love is never wasted.