Christmas Thoughts

When I was a little girl I loved playing with the cats at my grandparents farm.  I enjoyed rubbing their bellies and listening to their gentle, rhythmic purring.  I would pick them up and wrap them around my neck and carry them into the house, where grandma didn't want them!  By the end of our play time I would have an itchy, red rash around my neck and my eyes would be bloodshot and watering.  Grandma would say, "Cindy!  Stay away from those damn cats!  You are allergic to them."  I would tell her, "No I'm not, Grandma--I'm allergic to the chickens."  I hated the chickens--always clucking loudly and fluttering violently around in the chicken coop.  And they would chase me all the way to the farm house--I'd be out of breath and crying, terrified to death!  I couldn't understand how I could be allergic to something that brought me so much joy.

At Christmas we were often the first house to have lights on on our block.  I remember when I was in grade three my two sisters and I were up even before the crack of dawn and ready to open our stockings.  We waited patiently for mom and dad to get up.  When their bedroom door finally opened, out strolled a little black kitten with a tiny diamond of white on her chest, looking like she owned the place.  I said, "Is that for me???"  And mom and dad said she was.  I was so excited!  I never dreamed I would ever have a kitten with my allergies!  It was my most memorable Christmas ever!

Thankfully, over time I seemed to develop a tolerance to my kitty.  I didn't rash up and my eyes no longer watered.  "Taina" was the most wonderful pet.  She would sleep with us under the covers and make you so warm you'd have to throw off the blankets--my own personal heating pad.  There is nothing quite like the unconditional love of a pet.  Through my temperamental teenage years she would lick away my tears.  And when I was fifteen and (although unknown at the time) I had a cyst on my ovary, she knew I was sick and would sleep on the side with the pain.  She lived many, many years.  I was married with one child before she passed away.  Taina was such a blessing to our family and my life.

Now that I'm a parent I chuckle to myself and sometimes wonder what on earth my parents were thinking??!  What if it hadn't turned out so well?  What if I developed asthma and became really sick?  Regardless, I am so grateful they took the chance.  Mom often says it was the best $10.00 she ever spent when they picked Taina up from the SPCA.  This act of love for me gave me many, many moments of unbridled happiness and entertainment which I will forever cherish.  Thanks Mom and Dad for making my Christmas dreams come true!

Merry Christmas everyone!

Life is a Circle

Several months ago I was placed part-time on a very busy medicine unit at the hospital, to assist a coworker with her heavy caseload.  As we started to become more familiar with each other, we shared the reasons we were drawn into social work.  I indicated that I chose this profession because when I was a little girl, our family fostered a little boy from the reserve.  This four year old boy came to our home with a soiled diaper, matted hair and cigarette burns.  He was developmentally delayed and not toilet-trained.  Although I was only about six at the time, I vividly remember he was terrified of the vacuum cleaner, and he loved it when my grandpa rolled him back and forth on the floor.  He experienced his very first haircut while he was with us, exposing his big brown eyes.  Even though he wasn't with us for very long, it was hard to say good-bye, and his memory led me to want to go into the helping profession.  In fact, I wrote about him in an essay for my University application.

With my coworker on the unit full time, and myself half-time, we soon developed an easy method of dividing our caseload.  I simply asked her to pass me the files she would like me to assist her with at random, since she knew the unit best.  One day she gave me the case of an adult male.  I went into his room and as I began my assessment and we started chatting, it was clear to me this man was cognitively delayed, even though there was no indication on the chart.  I could sense something strangely familiar--just a "gut feeling."  And it dawned on me that his first name matched the first name of my former foster brother.  

I told my coworker I thought it might be him, and at her urging I phoned my mom that night to ask his last name.  It was this patient!  I informed my manager of the situation.  I wanted the very best for this patient but at the same time didn't want to do anything unethical; he was my client.  My coworker was reassigned the case and I knew she would take good care of his needs.  He desperately did not want to return to the reserve, and he eventually ended up living away in an assisted living facility, away from his extended family and in our region.

As the weeks passed after his discharge, I felt a calling to be involved in my former foster brother's life.  I couldn't believe the coincidence--of all the hospitals he could go to in the province, out of all the hospitals in the city, out of all the units in our hospital, and of the cases my coworker could randomly pass to me--it was truly a miracle.  And I believe things happen for a reason.  

I called the Alberta College of Social Workers to discuss this dilemma and asked if it was okay to disclose my previous relationship to the patient and become part of his life, especially since he was estranged from his biological family.  They agreed and confirmed the hospital staff, myself included, conducted ourselves ethically.  I went to this man and told him who I was.  He asked why I hadn't told him sooner, and I explained to him that I didn't want to influence his decision on where he wanted to live--I wanted him to do what was best for him without my influence.  

Over the last little while, we have shared some laughs and some short memories from when he was with us.  I can't believe he remembers!--but the details he shared were undeniable.  I spoke about this with another coworker who has extensive experience working in child welfare, and he said we can never underestimate the positive impact a healthy home has on a child, even if he was only there for a short while.

My former foster brother has the most infectious giggle and gentle spirit.  I have helped him pick out winter boots, coat and mitts, we've gone for coffee, and he came for supper with my family to watch the Grey Cup.  He calls regularly and we have forged a new friendship.  Things happen for a reason, and I feel my life has gone a full circle--I am helping the person who has helped me become a social worker.  I am truly blessed.

"Everything the power of the world does is done in a circle.

The sky is round and I have heard that the earth is round like a ball and so are the stars.

The wind, in its greatest power, whirls.

Birds make their nest in circles, 

for theirs is the same religion as ours.

The sun comes forth and goes down again in a circle.

The moon does the same and both are round.

Even the seasons form a great circle in their changing 

and always come back again to where they were.

The life of a man is a circle from childhood to childhood,

and so is everything where power moves."

~Black Elk, Holy Man of the Oglala Sioux~

(1863-1950)