GivesMeHope.com

This is why I love the Harry Potter fan community.

Just about everyone on the planet has heard of Harry Potter. It is one of the most beloved stories of all time. But simmering beneath the surface is another story. The story of the fandom.

In many ways, I believe the fandom represents the generation of kids (now young adults) who grew up with Harry. In fact, it could be argued that Jo Rowling did more than write a bestselling book series. It could be argued that Jo inspired and defined a generation.

There are hundreds of online fan sites, hundreds of fan fiction authors, and hundreds (yes-- I'm not exaggerating) of wizard rock bands. (If you don't believe me, check out this: wizrocklopedia-band-listings). But what is fascinating to me is how the fandom transcends their love for a story. When these fans get together, it's not just to discuss the literary merits of the books, have a pick-up game of Quidditch, or enjoy socializing at a Yule Ball. These folks are living the messages that Rowling models: promoting literacy, giving to charity, creating (house) unity.

For example, one of the top websites (The Leaky Cauldron) just held a conference (LeakyCon 2009) two weeks ago in Boston. In addition to the academic HP "experts," they also had big names like award winning YA author John Green (and his brother Hank), Cheryl Klein (an editor of the HP books at Scholastic), and Michael Goldenberg (the screenwriter for the Order of the Phoenix movie, as well as Contact and Peter Pan). Also, Jo Rowling and Scholastic donated a signed 10-book set of American Edition Harry Potter books for fundraising (the only such set in the world.) It was a huge event for fans. Thousands attended. It was organized and run by the fans who run the website-- median age: probably 24. And if that's not inspiring enough, all proceeds went to charity: Book Aid International and the HP Alliance (who raises awareness of Darfur and runs a book drive for Rwanda)!

Another example is the Wizard Rock community. Founded and led by the band Harry and the Potters (brothers Paul and Joe DeGeorge), Wizard "Wrock" bands tour the US, playing in libraries, schools, and bookstores to celebrate and promote literacy. Harry and the Potters, for instance, encouraged concert goers in the summer of 2006 to read some of their favorite books in exchange for toothbrushes (bearing their band name) with the receipt of a book report (that gets a huge "yay" from moms everywhere!), and wrock band The Remus Lupins' motto is "Fight Evil, Read Books."

So I was not at all surprised to learn of this most recent endeavor by a HP fan. Emerson Spartz started the largest HP fansite in the world (Mugglenet) in 1999 when he was just 12 years old. He is at the forefront of the fandom: appeared on FOX news, was parodied by Jimmy Kimmel, and co-authored a bestselling book about HP. And he was one of only two people invited by Jo Rowling to her home for an interview after the midnight release of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. Now at the ripe old age of 22 (ha!), he has started a new website in reaction to a site that has been gaining popularity: FMyLife.com.

FMyLife.com is a site where people share stories explaining how their day was completely ruined. Tired of always hearing about negativity, Emerson and his fiancee, Gaby, launched GivesMeHope.com "where people share with the world their most hopeful, uplifting moments and allow others to draw strength from their experiences."

This is why I love the Harry Potter fan community.

They give me hope.

Living History

(Part 3 of "Finding a Home in Nursing Homes")


(Photo by Jason Evans)

Though the nursing center is modern and current events are blaring from TVs, I was constantly reminded of the era that shaped the residents. There was a curious duality in the Octogenarians and Nonagenarians wearing Nikes and toting CD players. Those moments when evidence of their vintage broke through are some of my most treasured memories. I'll start with Milly...

Milly

Milly was a happy, fun-loving, easy-going woman who raised 8 or 9 children on her farm in rural Pennsylvania. She had suffered a stroke which left her hemiplegic-- with little or no function of her left arm and leg. We could bathe and dress her in bed easily, but she required two aides to help her stand and pivot into her wheelchair.

No one minded the interruption when called to help with the transfer. Because Milly was a joyful soul, with wonderfully contagious laughter. Actually, the stroke damaged her emotion control center, leaving her with emotional lability: inappropriate (often exaggerated) expression of emotion. When Milly laughed, everyone laughed, then Milly would laugh harder and so on. She was known to exclaim that she had peed because she was laughing too hard, which would require a change of her "diaper." So the regular aides knew to get the laughter out before finishing the bathing and dressing routine.

When I first met Milly, two aides were in the process of helping her into her chair and laughter filled the room. Something was said that inspired a great guffaw from Milly, which sent her dentures flying across the room! Naturally this resulted in more laughs and by the time we had her dry and seated, we all were wiping the tears from our faces.

At the start of summer, a young girl who was studying nursing at the local university took a summer job as an aide. Darla was African-american, and from the city. She clearly had the disposition for nursing, and was immediately accepted by the staff. So, at the end of her first day of training, we sent her to answer Milly's call light (Milly was an "easy" resident-- generally happy and not medically complex).

Darla shuffled down the hall and disappeared into Milly's room. Next came an ear-splitting shriek and we saw Darla backing into the hall with a mixture of shock, concern, and resigned amusement on her face as Milly shouted, "Help! She escaped! Send her back on the boat!"

After a moment of confusion (we weren't accustomed to hearing Milly angry or scared), Darla looked at us and we all erupted into laughter. It was a sudden reminder of the generational differences. Milly was scared. Because she had not been exposed to cultural diversity in her quiet, rural life.

By the end of the summer, Milly enjoyed Darla's care, and was sad to say goodbye when fall semester resumed.

17

Eyes of dusty green

penetrating

strong line of jaw

delving

feelings of rare comfort

tingling

darkest hours of night

glowing

souls dance together

laughing

You stood with grace and calm as I walked the aisle. Strength and intelligence, under the eaves of Victorian twilight. Seventeen years ago, at seven in the evening, you joined my life's path. Thank you for the magic, for the beauty, for the understanding.

For the love.

Happy Anniversary, my Prince of Twilight.







From the deep sea of Clouds
To the island of the moon,
Carry me on the waves
To the lands I've never been,
Carry me on the waves
To the lands I've never seen.
~Enya

Finding a Home in Nursing Homes-- Elizabeth

I was introduced to Elizabeth after a warning from my new coworkers. Several of the aides rolled their eyes and sniggered as my trainer said to them, "Oh come on, she's a very nice lady…. She just likes things done her way."

Elizabeth sat in her nightgown, one arm in a sling and her eyebrow raised as we entered one of only four private rooms in the nursing home.

"Good morning!" chirped my trainer.

"You're late," stated Elizabeth, but I noted a bit of a mischievous glint in her eyes.

I soon learned that Elizabeth expected help to walk to the closet, using her four-point cane, so that she could choose which silk blouse she'd like to wear with the dark slacks that filled her closet. She also had a particular order in which she liked her sponge bath to proceed. And the entire process took at least 30 minutes, a queen's ration of the 2 ½ hours that we had to wash and dress the 12 residents on our assignment. When finished, she sat in her wheelchair with a straight back, blotting her bright red lipstick and patting her coif into place. She smiled at me.

"You'll do fine, she likes you," my trainer remarked as we swept from the room.

Elizabeth had more grace and dignity than any other resident I had ever met in my career. Though the aides joked and called her "the queen mum," I detected a friendly undercurrent. They simultaneously hated answering Elizabeth's call bell and loved receiving her approval.

As months passed, I grew closer to Elizabeth. She warmed to me quickly when she discovered that I had graduated from the same college as her son. And she appreciated my gentle touch, when other aides were a bit gruffer (which was necessary with some residents-- much like the difference between a strict, but fair teacher and a warm, gentle teacher.)

Elizabeth's stroke had left her with right-sided hemiparesis: weakness in her right side. She wore a special shoe with a brace which was difficult to put on. It required massaging her foot and ankle to relax the abnormally high muscle tone in order to slip her foot into the shoe. Many of the aides got frustrated. It soon became known that a few of us were more adept at donning the shoe. So whenever possible, we'd be called in to help. When I was called in, Elizabeth would give me the "thank goodness it's you" look along with a scowling grimace and a fake bop on the head of the aide who was kneeling in front of her, intent on stuffing her foot into the shoe. I'd smile and take over.

But the real gem underneath the dignified exterior was revealed when one of my co-workers (my best friend at that job) began teasing Elizabeth. Her sense of humor reluctantly emerged as she felt more at ease with us.

One day, the aide who trained me, my best friend, and I were in Elizabeth's room. The trainer was telling us the story of how she thought her vacuum was broken.

"I attached the hose, you know, and it wouldn't suck! It would only blow, not suck!"

Elizabeth burst into laughter along with my friend and I, as a look of embarrassed surprise came over the trainer's face.

"Oh! I didn't mean it to sound that way," she exclaimed as she giggled. But Elizabeth just waved her off and laughed heartily.

And then there was the day that Elizabeth called my friend and I into her room, blushing and insisting that we close the door. She had a book in front of her, she'd been reading a romance.

"I have a question for you. What exactly is…" she paused with a nervous smile, then whispered, "oral sex, you know, for the woman?"

My friend, who thankfully was embarrassed by nothing, explained.

"You mean… the man… does that... there?"

She had a horrified look for a moment, then, "Oh… oh!" And she smiled, causing my friend and I to giggle like teenagers at a sleepover.

Elizabeth taught me that day that it doesn't matter what time period we live in, how sophisticated we try to be, or how old we are… we are all human. All the same. These withered, weakened bodies who had lived through world wars, gender inequality, and a culture that held family values higher than any generation since, were just like me. There was no reason to feel fear or shy when helping them with basic daily tasks. I could be in that wheelchair one day. And I wouldn't want to be treated like a mothball ridden relic either.

Finding a Home in Nursing Homes

The summer I turned 19, with aspirations of becoming a physician, I landed a summer job in a nursing home. I was a Nurse's Aide. Back then, there was no licensure or educational requirements. It was all on-the-job-training. And what training it was! (Especially for a teenaged girl…I'll share more about that later!) After college, I again worked as a Nurse's Aide to gather more hands-on experience before entering graduate school for Occupational Therapy (OT) . Finally, I began my OT career specializing in geriatric rehab. Since I have many stories and experiences to share, this will be an ongoing blog series.

Photo found on Flickr

The Experience

Many people shudder at the thought of nursing homes. They conjure sad images of frail people waiting to die and cold, sparsely decorated rooms. Reality often validates these impressions. But only on the surface.

Nursing homes assault your senses. The smell of cleaning products mixed with body fluids. The sight of people napping in wheelchairs. The sound of pain, confusion, and croaks for help. (Once a woman with a stroke-damaged smile pointed and shouted to me, "There! Do you see it?! A lemming!")

However, the hushed, depressive atmosphere and the sense that you are in a place between worlds are false. In truth, nursing homes are much more warm and familiar, fun and alive, and surprisingly comfortable. A visitor can't experience those depths. Let me take you inside.

In a way, working in a nursing home is like caring for 15 infants and toddlers at once. You scramble to:

• Wipe noses and wash hands.


• Help them stand at the sink to wash and dress.


• Soothe one crying in the corner while catching one trying to escape out the door.


• Mediate squabbles.


• Help people use the toilet (and wipe).

At mealtime, there are drink boxes to open, food to cut, and fork-fuls to be fed. And there's diapers! You feel like you are constantly changing diapers. Not to mention, there's always the threat that you'll discover the source of the unseemly odor too late, only to find an artist fingerpainting with poop. Naptime seems like a break, but you've got to make sure that each one has what they require to sleep.

But despite the work, most of my days ended with a smile and a warm heart. Why? Because working with adult-sized people is about more than meeting their physical needs. Each one has a lifetime to share and lessons to teach. History lessons (I've met several folks who were born in the 19th century!). Cultural lessons. And plenty of psychology.

A nursing home is a home-- an extended family. And nothing is warmer than that.



Elizabeth

One of my beloved "grandmothers" called me into her room one day. Elizabeth knew I was engaged, and had even met Jason once. She gave me a piercing look, set her lips firmly, and declared "You must have something blue with you when you marry." Then she handed me the embroidered handkerchief pictured below.

Months later she suffered a second stroke. The charge nurse phoned me on my day off to let me know that it was "time". I sat with her for several hours, the other aides joined me when they could spare a few minutes. She quietly slipped away later that night.

And I proudly carried "something blue" down the aisle six months later.



Next time, I'll tell you about another time Elizabeth called me into her room....
:)

Equilibrium (Personality Talk, part 8)

"We know that three of the four functions of consciousness can become differentiated, i.e., conscious, while the other remains connected with the matrix, the unconscious, and is known as the 'inferior' function. It is the Achilles' heel of even the most heroic consciousness…." Carl Jung, 1959

Time for another personality post! I've been reading more about inferior functions and how stress is expressed in each type. So I thought I'd share!

If you need a refresher, read the Basics of Type Theory first. If you already know your type, you can determine your hierarchy of functions there.

Balance has a unique meaning in type theory. At first glance, you may think that a balanced personality is one that has developed equal competence in all functions. This would result in no clear preferences. Essentially, you would be typeless. But that's not how the human brain develops and functions.

Balance means we develop our inferior function (the 4th function) sufficiently to keep our dominant function from becoming overbearing, over-expressed, and running amok. It's healthy to develop the inferior function to achieve this balance. But no matter how balanced we are, or how skilled we are at using that inferior function, it can also cause trouble, because it remains our least comfortable, least controlled function.

What kind of trouble? Know how you can act out of character when under stress, feeling tired, or ill? When you have a day when you don't recognize yourself? In type theory it's called "being in the grip." And in type terms, it is the eruption of your inferior function. When we are in the grip of our inferior function we experience tunnel vision (become too focused or narrow-minded), lose our sense of humor, and make "all-or-none" statements.

Each inferior function has different triggers or stressors that lead to a grip experience, behaviors that characterize the grip experience, and ways to return to equilibrium. Because of their make up, INFJs and INTJs can be especially stressed when they are forced to focus on details, to face unexpected events, or to be more extraverted. Their inferior function, extraverted sensing (Se), unconsciously comes forward. Their "grip experience" causes them to focus obsessively on external data, to overindulge in sensual pleasure, or to take an adversarial attitude toward the external world. To return to equilibrium, they may need time alone to recharge, to lighten their normal schedule, or to be free from others giving advice or suggestions.

So, as an INFJ (and I can attest to the truth of this) I can get stressed when plans change at the last minute, causing me to pick a fight with Jason, which resolves only after I've had some alone time. :) Or, after spending all day shopping with my extraverted mother-in-law, I just need to sit and eat chocolate, and put off the laundry and vacuuming until the next day (yeah-- that sounds right!)

If you want to know your inferior function, triggers, form of the grip experience, and how to get back to equilibrium, tell me your type in the comments. Let's see how accurate this theory is!
:)


I also want to wish all those who celebrate it, HAPPY EASTER!



Hope your holiday is hopping! (Follow the little ones, they know where the best eggs are!)









(back to part 7)

Neanderthals Among Us

Homo sapiens and Homo neanderthalensis, University of Pennsylvania Museum of Archeology and Anthropology, photo by Jason Evans


I was looking at my stat counter log the other day, and I found a most interesting visit. Someone found my blog while searching for "brain function theory INTP." Naturally, I clicked on their search to see what else they found. And I was led to a fascinating site called The Neanderthal Theory. (No, INTPs are not Neanderthals in disguise! LOL!)

I've mentioned in previous posts that I've always been interested in early humans and human evolution. In particular, my imagination has been sparked by the idea that modern humans and Neanderthals lived at the same time. Authors such as Jean Auel have brought this idea to life, exploring the possibilities of interactions between the two hominid groups, including interbreeding. And, genetic research supports this notion.

It's been rather accepted that a Neanderthal could walk the streets of New York City undetected. Their appearance would not be outside the range of modern human variation. A bit shorter, stockier, more muscular, but largely considered unremarkable to other humans. Here is a reconstruction of a Neanderthal child based on research at the University of Zurich (by Elisabeth Daynes, photo by Philippe Plailly).

And now, this Neanderthal Theory takes my imagination to a whole new level. The author proposes that Autism, Asperger's syndrome, ADHD, and Tourette syndrome may not be "disorders" at all, but rather that the symptoms of these conditions are a result of the expression of Neanderthal DNA in the Caucasian genome! Wow-- sounds like science fiction, doesn't it? But the author of this theory presents an interesting case.

Oh, and what did INTP brain function have to do with the Neanderthal Theory? There is mention that there seems to be a correlation between ADHD and the following types: ENTP, ENFP, INFP, and INTP. And that "there is also considerable overlap between criteria of aspie(Asperger's syndrome) and INTP."

Hmmmm....
;)