Journal Entry: Dec. 3, 2015
I received therapy for my broken ankle while I was in the nursing home. My only time out of my room each day (seven days a week) was to receive therapy. I came to enjoy those who worked in that department.
One of the male therapists here at the nursing home/rehab center said something interesting today. His mother does not like to be called ‘honey’ or ‘hon.’ She thinks it sounds demeaning.
This set me to thinking. When I was in college, one of the guys on campus who worked for the food service, part time, always called the girls in the dorm endearing little names like ‘doll.’ He was in the same fraternity as my boyfriend. One day one of my sorority sisters who also dated another guy from that fraternity house and I asked him why he did that.
My friend hit upon the idea that he did this because he did not know or could not remember the names of the other girls on campus. However, he had to know our names.
Here at the rehab/nursing facility, the CAN’s, the nurses, and the therapists use the little cute names because it is quick and easy. The environment can be somewhat cold and daunting to the patients. The use of endearing terms breaks the ice and is meant to put the patient at ease.
The Bible says God has a special name for each of his children. Each of us will find out what He calls us when we meet Him.
Yesterday, I underwent an evaluation for the possibility of continuing my physical therapy. The young woman told me I was doing well, making progress. I could have continued receiving therapy for 30 days. I explained something to her and asked for two more weeks. She agreed to my suggestion.
I will see my regular PT woman three more times and then this evaluator will come back to release me. I am so happy; I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.