Monday, September 26, 2011

Pissyboots

By: Amber Ellington
Have you ever met someone truly inspiring, who changed your life forever? Well, this isn’t one of those stories. This summer I completed my first unit of Clinical Pastoral Education at a retirement facility with a dementia/Alzheimer’s unit. Although some of my residents suffered from severe cognitive impairment, I found them to be warm and receptive to my presence as their summer chaplain. That was until I met CH.

CH was an elderly African American woman with cognitive issues, who happened to have served as a Colonel in the United States Air Force. You know this woman had to be “tough as nails” in her day to achieve such ranking as an African American female in the military. I was all smiles the first time I approached CH and told her I was going to take her in her wheelchair to talk to her. CH’s response to my sweet, unassuming approach? “You aren’t taking me anywhere… I’m not talking to you. Kiss my @$$!” I still tried talking to CH, which produced little to no results. I continued to greet CH and smile for the next few weeks, although I received nothing but four-letter words in return. My favorite was the time I smiled and said, “How are you doing today, CH?” And she responded with, “How much are they paying you to walk the streets?”  Our relationship continued this way for the majority of the summer… until things changed.


I never gave up on being kind to CH or trying to talk to her.  One day she was having her nails painted in the activity room. I walked up to her, smiled, and greeted her like always. She slowly looked up from staring at her nails, and with the sweetest, kindest smile she said, “Well hello, dear. How are you doing today?” WHAT?!! This was one of the rare moments where the real CH was shining through her dementia. We talked about her favorite color (as she was having her nails painted purple), but I felt the need to leave the conversation quickly before she turned mean again. Two weeks later, after having several pleasant interactions with CH, I saw her sitting in the activity room with many other residents. I walked in and said in my most cheerful voice, “Hi, CH!” She slowly raised her chin from her chest, scrunched up her face, scowled and said, “Oh, pissyboots!!” I knew right then that the old CH was back. She remained this way until the last day when I told her thank you for letting me see her this summer. I got a little smile from her and then ran from the room before she could say anything ugly- just so I could leave on a good note.


So friends, the next time you get back that essay from IBS or that reflection paper from Reformed Tradition and there isn’t the best grade on it, just scrunch up your face and say “Awww….Pissyboots!!”            -

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