Talk to me like a man

As I've previously mentioned, I work professionally in the care field, taking care of an adult with severe autism.  And while I've come to the conclusion that it's not what I want to make a lifelong carer out of, I do enjoy it, and I've learned some pretty valuable lessons.

The man I take care of is just a year younger than I.  (I'll simply refer to him as K from here on out.)  He has very limited speech capabilities: when he talks, his language is mostly symbolic, and his words come out sounding mostly like gibberish.  There is nothing about his condition he can hide; he must ware his biggest vulnerabilities on his sleeve for everyone to see and judge.  But it's different for his caretakers, isn't it.  Being NT's (neurotypicals), we can hide away our biggest vulnerabilities, our weaknesses, our shortcomings and insecurities.  And I think it's that idea, almost more than any other, that really makes us see the people we provide care to as different.

K can communicate using facilitated communication; a simple "text-to-speech" program on his iPad.  It can be difficult for him at times to collect his thoughts, and he often gets burned out quickly when typing.  But he has some pretty profound things to say, and nothing he's said has struck me more than when he told me, during my training: "Talk to me like a man who understands everything you say".  It sounds pretty basic, doesn't it?  Spend five minutes with him, and you can instantly tell that he has at least a rudimentary understanding of what is being said to him.  But it's this area that I've seen people stumble the most.

K is a constant news junkie.  He loves having conversations about current events, politics, the goings on in the middle east and, currently, Egypt.  As soon as we get into the car, he immediately changes the station to NPR, and is full of thoughts on whatever the story of the hour is.  We've had some pretty awesome conversations, too.  Like all of us, he wants to make since of the world he lives in.

Recently, I've had the opportunity to help train a couple of new members to his care staff.  And the number one thing I've noticed, time and again, is any time a "controversial", or "difficult" item is brought up, they go silent, like they're afraid to have a serious conversation with him.  They'll immediately try to steer the conversation to something more lighthearted, like video games, or whatever cartoon show he was watching earlier in the day.

I'm sure that this is done with the best of intentions, but sometimes it's our good intentions that can do the most harm.  By not engaging him, or so many others like him, in deeper conversation, aren't we, as care providers, cutting them off from the world around them?  Do they not have a right, like everyone else to be curious and inquire about the very world they live in?  I think in order to engage in such a conversation requires a certain vulnerability on our, the care takers, behalf.

When a subject isn't a simple black or white, we expose bits of ourselves that are so easily hidden.  I understand that it can be so easy to get caught up in the day to day routine of providing care; cleaning up after them, making sure that their cloths are on the right way, etc; that you can almost forget that its not just a human being, in a biological since, that your taking care of, but a person, too; a member of our collective society.

And maybe that's a lesson we can all learn from, in all of our relationships.  It can be easy when a topic is hard to shut ourselves off and protect our own vulnerabilities.  Some times we need a reminder to look at the people in our own lives as people, and not just breathing hunks of flesh, and "talk to them like a man (or woman) who understands..."

Cody Hobbs