OCCUPATIONAL
THERAPY, TAXI-DRIVERS AND COLUMBINE
By Doris H. OaW pointed the way to the tm1^ beginning of gaining the patieH
like to try some painting, Steve? I'll get paints and brushes," I offered. "I don't paint, thank you," replied Steve, a stout, red-faced youth of
for it
you
WOULDN'T
attention and interest. The first conversation with was enlightening, as he talked free. about his past and his problem. Many patients I found would not. perhaps could not, speak of illnesses. Steve came to us from ?. isolated farm family in a *1 several hundred miles away. mother, who had also been ill, had taken her own life in a sei2u. of despondency. Shock, grief aj depression over this tragedy start beca11 He his disorganisation. obsessed with the thought that was, or would become, ill like mother. His father, who apparefl., was stable enough, but old, arthr) and suffering from his own SrlL turned over management of I' farm to his son, which seemed to quicken the process mental disintegration. One mo llis father presented Steve, benefit of outside medical opin"1 directly to the hospital.
perhaps twenty-four. "Then, wallet
we
how about tackling that talked about this morn-
^
ing?" I asked. "No, thank emphatically.
you," he answered "I like your dress. Where do you live?" Volunteer So
menta'?
therapist
began my duties occupational therapist
volunteer* of the restricted wards of a state mental hospital in the U.S.A. I had been assigned to men's admission, where I had been especially pleased to find a new, well-stocked inventory of good quality oil paints, pastels, charcoals, canvas, bags of plaster of paris, and leather work supplies. While I had had little experience of working with the mentally ill, I had spent some time in occupational therapy positions. Crafts of all kinds had always been extremely fascinating to me, so I looked forward with eagerness to the challenge of this new task. This hospital had utilised volunteer workers for a number of years, but men's admission ward, as well as some six others, had always been restricted to regular hospital staff. The administration had now allowed me to start, as an experiment to determine whether volunteer occupational therapists could be used with safety and expediency in these wards. I stammered a "thank you" to Steve's comment about my dress. I had worn an old figured cotton print, expecting to have it paint-splashed by evening, but the colours were still bold and strong. I made a mental note always to wear bright colours on Much later, I was to my visits. appreciate his compliment even more, *This is equivalent Great Britain.?(Ed.)
to
as
in
one
"Hospital Friend"
.
j1.
j
responsib'11^ mowith0^
Very
self-centred
This
boy
was
centred, possibly due
extremely to
his
se0(
lack
c?'f
his only been his aged fatl?' | His life had been one of hard physL ' work, little schooling and very pleasures. He had been under trej s ment for some time, and though ? and morbid decidedly was beginning to show promise contact
with
panion having
people,
unco-opera'1^]
becoming
more
out-going.
.??
first, few weeks taxed imagination and ingenuity as I ideas and projects of every descrtr. I was acutely disappointed, ^ tion. one by one they failed. The 11 were dull and lethargic. They f suddenly entered a new world, W^.-i These
upon they were subjected hospital regime, rules and
Vj
to a
s*1
regulat'0^ ^
for the simplest acts, forced to vV' sleep and live in dormitory style nat' men of every age, intellect and
in
76
i
\
ty; all the time being probed and ?.st'?ned. The result would be uplj lng to a person of healthy mind, the effect on these severely ill en Was staggerjng They were con-
s
and lost in a world of nurses' uniforms, attendants' sea-green doctors' short white coats; a of needles, pills, commands,
aJte 're? (je
^ands, questions,
pressures, arguand tensions, added to the of their already severe probanc* there I was> a flowered Pri nt dress, high heels and earrings. l expect I represented wives, sweetm?thers, sisters and, especially, to ^ese men- ^ was t^'1" 11 the l outside world they had ovvnf They had visitors, usually lr families, but sometimes these p ^ac* a disorganising effect on the As an objective outSj, Patients. I did not figure in their past, (lie -Was therefore free from these
ing8.
leJ110'!
h0arts*
With6
an^r> associations. Quieting Wonder elaborate ban
attp
not
^een
my
more
projects
fruitful, for I had
the projects in the role of Already overburdened with pressures, they simply CQ^helming n?t respond to one more ren St' ^nstead, they wanted to hear abo ut 0? Car my bowling league, what kind I drove, what kind of mileage j
tea
ov
^Pted er-
They So?,ots
d0 8
^
interested in my whether I had a and if I could make pizza.
broken
were
arm,
to listen jedtalked freely
and answered their I could, but after day I bea rdh their pathetic attempts to tell incidents, their rem half-forgotten of family, home, their their religion. A strange qu
i^n^i?ns*
honestly as listened. Day as
chii^brances Wav
^??d,
occupational therapist
an
sP>enH0
to
her time, I thought, but, unable elS(?^eTt them interested in anything t0
y' I
by
c?tn Pr
bai
listened.
^as
difficult not to be flattered Patients' attentions, their
ents or
about
my
jewellery,
visits,
but many
clothes. They looked for-
eagerly
to
my
often childishly sullen if I didn't them a surprise. On several occasions I baked small cakes for them or doughnuts. Once, in desperation to think of a surprise, I gathered bunch of purple iris from our a garden. The men were delighted. When I brought columbine on another visit, Robert, an elderly porter, held a fragile blossom cupped in his hand for several minutes while his eyes filled with tears. were
bring
Birth of
quiz
One cold, grey winter afternoon, the patients seemed duller than usual; conversation lagged and many of the On a men dozed from boredom. hunch I said to Pete, a middle-aged taxi driver, "I'll bet you can't name for me seven makes of cars." This caught his imagination and he eagerly began ticking off manufacturers (some of the cars he mentioned had not been built for twenty years but this was unimportant). Others joined in, as I quickly thought of other questions. The circle widened, until about half of the men were participating. Thus our quiz hour was born and became a regular afternoon pastime. We branched out into school subjects and current events, a few of the men picking up magazines for the first time to search for new topics. There were a few patients I could Some were so severely never reach. ill, with conditions of such long duraeven that conversation tion was impossible. The majority, however,
accepted
me
warmly, embracing
me
into their circle of human misery, for whatever comfort I could provide. I was often struck at first by the similarity of the patients' preferences to those of my own five and six-yearAt one point I feared old children. all our patients were subnormal, but their learned child-like I soon behaviour was due to illness, medication and various forms of treatment. Thinking of this similarity to my children, I once took along a carton of coloured crayons and a colouring I offered these tentatively to book. Lee, a young ministerial student,
of his reaction. He the same manner, but soon became absorbed in filling in the outline of a circus elephant. He completed three pages before passing the crayons to another patient, who also seemed to welcome the distrac-
being quite unsure accepted them in
tion. This served as a springboard for Lee, as well as a few others, for they later, amazingly, went on to water colours, coloured pencil sketching and,
finally, oil paints. If painting had been suggested to Lee originally, no doubt he would have said, like Steve, "I don't paint and don't want to learn." The character of our supply room began to change as, incongruously, coloured crayons, modelling clay and kindergarten puzzles took their places beside linseed oil, plaster of paris and pastel paints. The link with childhood pleasures provided other amusements. Ringtoss
games,
rubber
horseshoe
sets,
interlocking plastic building blocks, take-apart clocks were effective. Competitive games aroused too many arguments, but often a quick game of These averted a tantrum. amusements had little value except as
checkers
"busy" work; however, they did take the patient one step away from circular thinking, fears, obsessions, In later months they delusions. often led to simple constructive projects. Sadly, even the projects formed only a basis for other forms of professional therapy. It was a far cry from the occupational therapy I had been trained for. Often I felt a little ridiculous throwing bean bags at a plywood board with men twice my age. Before the volunteer experiment, the only diversion in men's admission had been a television set, which was rarely in working order. The men had spent their days staring off into worlds of fantasy, lost in unfathomable depths of despair. Surely, even a twenty-piece puzzle was better than this! However, as I read to them from my high school literature book, wrote endless letters for them and listened to their stories, I knew we
It had ^ a beginning. long road through months of listf! ing, childhood games and, fin^ A pathetic h', simple projects. beginning it was, but we had ^
had made a
able, in many cases, to break throUS the barriers that illness, drugs, b?f; dom and homesickness had The experiment was between us. success.
THERAPY, TAXI-DRIVERS AND COLUMBINE
By Doris H. OaW pointed the way to the tm1^ beginning of gaining the patieH
like to try some painting, Steve? I'll get paints and brushes," I offered. "I don't paint, thank you," replied Steve, a stout, red-faced youth of
for it
you
WOULDN'T
attention and interest. The first conversation with was enlightening, as he talked free. about his past and his problem. Many patients I found would not. perhaps could not, speak of illnesses. Steve came to us from ?. isolated farm family in a *1 several hundred miles away. mother, who had also been ill, had taken her own life in a sei2u. of despondency. Shock, grief aj depression over this tragedy start beca11 He his disorganisation. obsessed with the thought that was, or would become, ill like mother. His father, who apparefl., was stable enough, but old, arthr) and suffering from his own SrlL turned over management of I' farm to his son, which seemed to quicken the process mental disintegration. One mo llis father presented Steve, benefit of outside medical opin"1 directly to the hospital.
perhaps twenty-four. "Then, wallet
we
how about tackling that talked about this morn-
^
ing?" I asked. "No, thank emphatically.
you," he answered "I like your dress. Where do you live?" Volunteer So
menta'?
therapist
began my duties occupational therapist
volunteer* of the restricted wards of a state mental hospital in the U.S.A. I had been assigned to men's admission, where I had been especially pleased to find a new, well-stocked inventory of good quality oil paints, pastels, charcoals, canvas, bags of plaster of paris, and leather work supplies. While I had had little experience of working with the mentally ill, I had spent some time in occupational therapy positions. Crafts of all kinds had always been extremely fascinating to me, so I looked forward with eagerness to the challenge of this new task. This hospital had utilised volunteer workers for a number of years, but men's admission ward, as well as some six others, had always been restricted to regular hospital staff. The administration had now allowed me to start, as an experiment to determine whether volunteer occupational therapists could be used with safety and expediency in these wards. I stammered a "thank you" to Steve's comment about my dress. I had worn an old figured cotton print, expecting to have it paint-splashed by evening, but the colours were still bold and strong. I made a mental note always to wear bright colours on Much later, I was to my visits. appreciate his compliment even more, *This is equivalent Great Britain.?(Ed.)
to
as
in
one
"Hospital Friend"
.
j1.
j
responsib'11^ mowith0^
Very
self-centred
This
boy
was
centred, possibly due
extremely to
his
se0(
lack
c?'f
his only been his aged fatl?' | His life had been one of hard physL ' work, little schooling and very pleasures. He had been under trej s ment for some time, and though ? and morbid decidedly was beginning to show promise contact
with
panion having
people,
unco-opera'1^]
becoming
more
out-going.
.??
first, few weeks taxed imagination and ingenuity as I ideas and projects of every descrtr. I was acutely disappointed, ^ tion. one by one they failed. The 11 were dull and lethargic. They f suddenly entered a new world, W^.-i These
upon they were subjected hospital regime, rules and
Vj
to a
s*1
regulat'0^ ^
for the simplest acts, forced to vV' sleep and live in dormitory style nat' men of every age, intellect and
in
76
i
\
ty; all the time being probed and ?.st'?ned. The result would be uplj lng to a person of healthy mind, the effect on these severely ill en Was staggerjng They were con-
s
and lost in a world of nurses' uniforms, attendants' sea-green doctors' short white coats; a of needles, pills, commands,
aJte 're? (je
^ands, questions,
pressures, arguand tensions, added to the of their already severe probanc* there I was> a flowered Pri nt dress, high heels and earrings. l expect I represented wives, sweetm?thers, sisters and, especially, to ^ese men- ^ was t^'1" 11 the l outside world they had ovvnf They had visitors, usually lr families, but sometimes these p ^ac* a disorganising effect on the As an objective outSj, Patients. I did not figure in their past, (lie -Was therefore free from these
ing8.
leJ110'!
h0arts*
With6
an^r> associations. Quieting Wonder elaborate ban
attp
not
^een
my
more
projects
fruitful, for I had
the projects in the role of Already overburdened with pressures, they simply CQ^helming n?t respond to one more ren St' ^nstead, they wanted to hear abo ut 0? Car my bowling league, what kind I drove, what kind of mileage j
tea
ov
^Pted er-
They So?,ots
d0 8
^
interested in my whether I had a and if I could make pizza.
broken
were
arm,
to listen jedtalked freely
and answered their I could, but after day I bea rdh their pathetic attempts to tell incidents, their rem half-forgotten of family, home, their their religion. A strange qu
i^n^i?ns*
honestly as listened. Day as
chii^brances Wav
^??d,
occupational therapist
an
sP>enH0
to
her time, I thought, but, unable elS(?^eTt them interested in anything t0
y' I
by
c?tn Pr
bai
listened.
^as
difficult not to be flattered Patients' attentions, their
ents or
about
my
jewellery,
visits,
but many
clothes. They looked for-
eagerly
to
my
often childishly sullen if I didn't them a surprise. On several occasions I baked small cakes for them or doughnuts. Once, in desperation to think of a surprise, I gathered bunch of purple iris from our a garden. The men were delighted. When I brought columbine on another visit, Robert, an elderly porter, held a fragile blossom cupped in his hand for several minutes while his eyes filled with tears. were
bring
Birth of
quiz
One cold, grey winter afternoon, the patients seemed duller than usual; conversation lagged and many of the On a men dozed from boredom. hunch I said to Pete, a middle-aged taxi driver, "I'll bet you can't name for me seven makes of cars." This caught his imagination and he eagerly began ticking off manufacturers (some of the cars he mentioned had not been built for twenty years but this was unimportant). Others joined in, as I quickly thought of other questions. The circle widened, until about half of the men were participating. Thus our quiz hour was born and became a regular afternoon pastime. We branched out into school subjects and current events, a few of the men picking up magazines for the first time to search for new topics. There were a few patients I could Some were so severely never reach. ill, with conditions of such long duraeven that conversation tion was impossible. The majority, however,
accepted
me
warmly, embracing
me
into their circle of human misery, for whatever comfort I could provide. I was often struck at first by the similarity of the patients' preferences to those of my own five and six-yearAt one point I feared old children. all our patients were subnormal, but their learned child-like I soon behaviour was due to illness, medication and various forms of treatment. Thinking of this similarity to my children, I once took along a carton of coloured crayons and a colouring I offered these tentatively to book. Lee, a young ministerial student,
of his reaction. He the same manner, but soon became absorbed in filling in the outline of a circus elephant. He completed three pages before passing the crayons to another patient, who also seemed to welcome the distrac-
being quite unsure accepted them in
tion. This served as a springboard for Lee, as well as a few others, for they later, amazingly, went on to water colours, coloured pencil sketching and,
finally, oil paints. If painting had been suggested to Lee originally, no doubt he would have said, like Steve, "I don't paint and don't want to learn." The character of our supply room began to change as, incongruously, coloured crayons, modelling clay and kindergarten puzzles took their places beside linseed oil, plaster of paris and pastel paints. The link with childhood pleasures provided other amusements. Ringtoss
games,
rubber
horseshoe
sets,
interlocking plastic building blocks, take-apart clocks were effective. Competitive games aroused too many arguments, but often a quick game of These averted a tantrum. amusements had little value except as
checkers
"busy" work; however, they did take the patient one step away from circular thinking, fears, obsessions, In later months they delusions. often led to simple constructive projects. Sadly, even the projects formed only a basis for other forms of professional therapy. It was a far cry from the occupational therapy I had been trained for. Often I felt a little ridiculous throwing bean bags at a plywood board with men twice my age. Before the volunteer experiment, the only diversion in men's admission had been a television set, which was rarely in working order. The men had spent their days staring off into worlds of fantasy, lost in unfathomable depths of despair. Surely, even a twenty-piece puzzle was better than this! However, as I read to them from my high school literature book, wrote endless letters for them and listened to their stories, I knew we
It had ^ a beginning. long road through months of listf! ing, childhood games and, fin^ A pathetic h', simple projects. beginning it was, but we had ^
had made a
able, in many cases, to break throUS the barriers that illness, drugs, b?f; dom and homesickness had The experiment was between us. success.
