Easy Like Saturday Afternoon.

I noticed that its been a while since we've provided an update for the blog. I've also been on the receiving end of criticism concerning our lack of current posts, I won't mention names. 

I just finished my fourth week on the psychiatric unit at the hospital, and I love it. It has been such a wonderful experience. I never imagined my job could be so satisfying and rewarding, God has truly blessed me with love for my work. This is how I know I am in the right profession, I don't clock watch or wonder when my next break will come like I have in almost every other job in the past. At work I see people every day who have hit rock bottom, who have no money, family, friends, home, and to top off their situations they live with debilitating mental illnesses like schizophrenia, major depression, borderline personality disorder, obsessive compulsive disorder, and other mood and personality disorders. The most rewarding part of my job is when I am able to rekindle hope in my patients. 

For example, I started working with a female patient this last week who is slightly younger than me. During my first session with her she talked about her substance abuse, family and social network issues, and mental illness issues. She was extremely hopeless throughout most of our time together. About 2/3 of the way through our session she asked me "How old are you?" So I told her I was 27. She then looked at me with the most exhausted and sad face have ever seen. With tears streaming down her cheeks she said "And I bet you got it all don't you?" Not following her train of thought I asked what she meant and she expanded by saying "You got a women who loves you, and a nice place and a job." And I was speechless, she was comparing herself to me because we were around the same age. Now, as a therapist I am trained to think on my toes. But being as green as I am out of school all I could manage to do was stare into her pain soaked eyes and try to imagine how hopeless she was. After what seemed like an eternity had past I managed to find some words that I could work off of, I said "You are so young." She just kept looking into my eyes and I began to explain to her that this was her chance to take hold of her life and begin to rebuild it from the bottom up. Towards the end of our session I was able to keep her attention on the future rather than the past.

This is kind of a switch in topic but one of the things that just turns me off concerning the health care industry (including hospitals, clinics, nursing homes, doctors, nurses and all other clinical professionals) is that it has sacrificed quality of care for expedited results. Rather than be with the patient who has a terminal illness and listen to them, empathize with them and reassure them, most practitioners objectify patients. And when this occurs the patient is viewed as their diagnosis. In working in this type of setting one can here practitioners use phrases like this "Someone needs to draw blood on the schizophrenic in 303" and "Oh, are you talking about the cancer in 401" and "Do you want the amputee in 208 on your case load." Using this language allows practitioners to objectify patients and when one views their patients as the illness or condition they fail to treat the person as a person. I won't get into it but doing this can function as a defense mechanism which allows practitioners to better handle the stress of working is such a stressful and mentally taxing environment. Regardless, all this to say, if all of us in the health professions would take a little time to listen and comfort our patients the quality of care would be so much better.

I am sorry for the unexpected tangent I just had. I never know where these things are going to go once I begin to write. If your interested in learning a little more about this idea you can read The Anatomy of Hope by Jerome Groopman. Its good stuff. 

Anyway, Love and miss all of you. 

The Run

Today, while anguishing the ridiculous logistics of the start of my new job, I became so overwhelmed with stress and anxiety that I went for a run, an unusually long run. Those of you who know me know the words stress and anxiety are not commonly uttered in the same sentence as my name, unless you're are talking about how I'm inducing stress and anxiety upon someone. So without going into the promoting events, I did was Forest Gump did. . . I ran. Now I'm not a runner and I never have been. Except for back in middle school because that doesn't count. And the fact that after ACL replacement surgery my right leg only functions at about 85% contributes to my lack of running.

So I laced up my running shoes, strapped on my knee brace, threw on my iPod (which on my run blared a playlist mixed with the new Coldplay, Death Cab For Cutie, and Jason Mraz albums) and began to run. I ran two blocks west to Henry St. and then jetted North toward Manhattan. Brooklyn consists of Brown Stone apartment buildings, you know like what the Cosby family lived in on the Cosby Show. So the entire Borough is beautiful. I didn't specifically know where I wanted to run But I knew I was headed toward the Brooklyn Bridge. I also knew that if I was going to run to it I was really going to have to commit to a lengthy jog. Without much deliberation I told myself "OK, run across the bridge, its going to be beautiful". After many blocks I saw a sign that pointed me to the Brooklyn Bridge walking deck.

As I approached the entrance of the bridge a song from Death Cab For Cutie came on my iPod called "Marching Bands of Manhattan" The opening lyrics of the song are sung with sincerity "If I could open my arms to stretch the length of the Isle of Manhattan. I'd bring it to where you are, making a lake of the East River and Hudson". As the song continued to play I could see up and down the the river that separates Manhattan from Brooklyn. The arches of the bridge were framed by the backdrop of the ever-expanding Manhattan skyline. During this run over the bridge I related to those lyrics. Thoughts of all the family and friends, present and past, flooded my mind. Memories came and went and I couldn't help but repeat those lyrics in my mind and heart with hopes that everyone I love were somehow telepathically receiving the words from the song. I wished that everyone could be there with me to experience the sight.

After my cross I turned around and headed back over the bridge and home, wondering of the tourists passing by saw me as a "cool resident" of the massive metropolis. The thought made me feel kinda cool since every time I visited the city I would identify residents and envy their location. I found my way back to Clinton St., which is just one block over from Henry St. and runs parallel to it. About 3 blocks from home I began to walk, I was exhausted. My legs were a little wobbly and I was drenched with sweat.

After cooling off outside I went to the computer in our office and looked up the distance of my run on Google Maps. Turns out my run was about 8 miles! After I discovered this my first thought was "I am going to be sore!" I can't feel the pain now, but anyone who normally runs zero miles who runs 8 miles out of the blue is bound to be sore.

Brooke and I are doing well. We have had company stay the last two weekends so its been busy and we will take it easy over the 4th of July. Sgt. Pepper was neutered almost a week ago and is recovering quite well. I have yet to start my job due to a "process" that HR, I am finding, is extremely slow with. We miss you all. We love you all!

Sgt. Pepper's Mini-blog

This is me, Sgt. Pepper. I am an almost one-year old Chihuahua/Italian Greyhound. Many of you have met me, some of you may have hung out with me and others may have even dog-watched me (thanks grandmas)! My birthday is coming up on July 4th, thats right I am an Independence- Pup. For my birthday I am taking gifts of bone and raw hide. You know where I live.

Since dad and mom are hogging all the attention on this blog I thought I would sneak on and make a post. It has taken me some time to adjust to the NYC style. For example, back in Minnesota I had a gigantic yard to play in (thank you Ford and Amy). There I would do my "business", and I don't mean trading stocks, in the grass. Here in NYC grass may be found two places. First, growing through the cracks of the sidewalk. Second, in parks. Actually, green can also be found surrounding some of the sidewalk trees. Anyway, I have two complicated routines when I get walked. When I perform the number two I usually have to do it on or near what little green or grass I can find. Most of the time this means I must compromise and put my rear end into a small shrub or weed growing on the walkway simply to get the job done. The other thing I do is urinate. . . on EVERYTHING. I will start by eliminating mostly in one spot. From there I will attempt to squeeze every little drop of pee out on trees, fire hydrants, parking meters, road signs, walls, and anything else within my leash's reach.

Recently I experimented with pooping in the pee position. . . AND IT WORKED! You can even ask mom and dad, I tricked them. I was also a little drunk when I attempted this. I think i may play around with some dismount positions after pooping and peeing you know, in recognition and honor of the 2008 summer Olympics.

I know all of you were just yearning to hear about my "duties". What was I supposed to do? I was getting jealous of the fact that mom and dad have a blog and I don't. I would like to sign off by giving a bark-out to Molly, Lady, Lucy, Oreo and my girl Penny Lane!

We love you all!

P.S. Without opposable thumbs, this blog took me approximately 11 hours to write, which in dog hours is 77 hours. Just thought you should know how much I care.

No longer counted in the unemployment rate!

That's right! Alan has a job!

After four weeks of living here to the day and three weeks of interviewing I am now a clinical social worker on the inpatient psychiatric unit at Montefiore Hospital in the Bronx. Its quite the train ride from Brooklyn...but that is beside the point.

I will be responsible for intake procedures, diagnosis (of mental illness), psycho education (educating patients and their families about the illness their loved one has and the medication they will be taking) and discharge procedures. A couple great things about this position is that it provides clinical supervision that will help me get my clinical license down the road. I will also be a part of the 1199 union, which is a union for service professionals. I'm not sure how many of you belong to a union but they have PHENOMINAL benefits!

I am looking forward to finally being able to use my education (which has been 8 years in the making!) and providing others with opportunities to improve their quality of life while living with a mental illness.

I was born to do this work I can proudly say that I am in a line of work that both pays the bills and makes me happy.

Brooke has been so patient and supportive concerning my job hunt. I have to apologize to her (along with Chad and Nicci) for my increased level of irritability during my search. I also Thank those of you who supported me through prayer in my job hunt!

Love you all!

Alan and Brooke.

Baptized by the personality of New York

So public transit is the only way to get from point A to point B in the city. Unless you have excessive disposable income. The trains are nice, we like them--most of the time. This city is filled with people who are in a hurry, thinking solely about themselves. We are tolerant of this as long is their need for expedited travel doesn't result in rude behavior.

Case #1

Brooke was waiting in a subway station in Manhattan one day after work when a crowded F train pulled up to the platform. The doors slid open revealing a car packed full of people. One women in Brooke's sight proceeded to enter the crowded car. As she did, the women she would have had to squish next to blurted out something like "What do you think you're doing?" to the women trying to enter the train. The women entering the train ignored the her. The women in the train then proceeded to say "Do you want me to slap you?" the women who entered the train continued to ignore her. Then out of the blue the women who was already in the train wound up and smacked the women she had earlier threatened. The women who got smacked, backed out of the train in complete shock. Brooke asked the women if she was OK, the women said she was dizzy from the slap but fine. Though this is an extreme example, it does happen. 

Case #2 this will be more of a description and an over generalization rather than an actual case, but hey at least I am aware of when i overgeneralize. 

People on the trains here can be divided into one of three categories. The first would be the Normal category. These people either listen to music, read, or sit quietly and stare straight ahead. The second category would be the Abnormal category. These people do identical activities on the train as people in the Normal category but on a somewhat socially awkward level. They listen to music but they sing very loud and obnoxiously, they may not even be listening to music and they will still sing in the same manner. These people also read out loud and talk out loud in a monologue directed to no one in particular. The last group of people I would like to put into the category of Cracked-out. They would be the people I could diagnose with some form of mental illness with very little effort. These people will fight with a hallucination in the middle of a car, stare at you for train stop after train stop, they will inform the entire train of the delusions they have, and they will freak you. Now I have only been here for a week and a half so I may need to expend on this at a later date. But for now that was your intro on "The people who ride NYC trains".

Well there is your update from the Hunts in NYC. My (Alan) job search is still going, I continue to have first and second interviews. We will keep you posted

Love you all!

What up from Brooklyn!

It has been two weeks to the day since we pulled the 16 foot yellow moving truck, which contained every possession we own, onto 3rd Place in Brooklyn, NY. Our 4th floor apartment is a 15 minute subway ride from Manhattan! With the help of Chad and Nicci, our move into the new place went with only one hitch...our couch set wouldn't fit through the door of our apartment! With a little "New York" thinking, one of our wonderful Italian neighbors instructed us to remove the legs from the couches, and they got through--just barely. Our place still isn't 100-percent put together but its getting there.

Brooke loves working in Manhattan, she is in her element working there with CBRE. This is the same company she was with in Minneapolis. She works at 200 Park Avenue, a.k.a one of the sweetest area of the city! Her building is only 10-15 blocks from Central Park. 

I have applied to a plethora of jobs throughout the area and interviewed for two of them and am setting up a third at this time. The ones I have interviewed for were both in the Bronx. For those of you who don't know the lay of the land out here, the Bronx is quite a ways away from where we live in Brooklyn. The jobs are actually an hour and fifteen minute train ride away. I know what your thinking, "Holy crap thats a long commute!" What you may not know is that in NYC many people have one hour plus commutes to work...each way, so I won't feel too bad if I get one of the positions. We just need to get used to this whole public transportation thing, which in Minnesota many people consider to be "ghetto", but here if you drive a car your the exception...and you also probably have money or kids. So the job search will continue and we will keep you posted.

So there is your first update on the Hunts in NYC. All is well, and yes Sergeant Pepper is adjusting well to the big city. He is taking well to the pooping and the peeing on concrete! We are going to keep all of you up to date on how things are going here through this blog. 

Love you all!