POWERFUL

 I AM A RESIDENT

I came across this poem while I was doing some cleaning up. It's titled "I am a Resident" but if it were up to me, I would simply call it "Powerful".

I am a resident.                                                                                                                            You reside.

I have behavior problems.                                                                                                                You are rude.

I am non-compliant.                                                                                                                        You don't like being told what to do.

When you ask me out for dinner, it's an outing.                                                                            When you ask someone else out, it's a date.

I don't know how many people have read the progress notes people write about me. I don't even know what's in there.                                                                                                 You didn't speak to your best friend for a month after they read your diary.

I made mistakes in my cheque-writing program. Some day, I might get a bank account.                      You forgot to record some withdrawals from your account. Your bank called to remind you.

I want to talk to the nice looking person behind us at the grocery store. I was told it was inappropriate to talk to strangers. You met your spouse in the produce department. They couldn't find the bean sprouts.

I celebrated my birthday yesterday with 5 other residents and 2 staff members. I hope my family sends a card.                                                                                                                                Your family threw you a surprise party. Your brother couldn't make it from out of state. It sounded wonderful.

My case manager sends a report every month to my guardian. It says everything I did wrong and some things I did right.                                                                                                                  You are mad at your sister for calling your mom after you got that speeding ticket.

I am on a special diet because I am a five pounds over my ideal body weight.                                Your doctor give up telling you.

I am learning household skills.                                                                                                        You hate housework.

I am learning leisure skills.                                                                                                              Your shirt says you are a 'couch potato'.

After I do my budget program tonight, I might get to go to McDonalds if I have enough money.      You were glad the new French restaurant took your charge card.

My case manager, psychologist, RN, occupational therapist, physical therapist, nutritionist and house staff set goals for me for the next year.                                                                              You haven't decided what you want to do for the rest of your life.

Someday I will be discharged .... maybe.                                                                                          You will move onward and upward.

Elaine Popovich

** This poem particularly moved me at the moment because in November my daughter entered the Independent Living Support program and moved into her own apartment with a roommate. But more on that later. Maybe.