"She's adorble! But her dress is too short."

"Can't you make it longer?" This ^ was a resident's comment on the doll I'd stitched (and dressed) out of fabric pieces they'd cut. 
[ posted yesterday]

So, even a person with dementia can see that Star Trek women's uniforms are too short!

Luckily, yesterday was a day when things worked for the good:
due to laziness, I had not hemmed the uniform, and I simply pull down the extra fabric to make a knee-length dress, which met with approval.

A few other amazing things in a day full of good connections:

1. A resident called me by name! She came in the room, having been gone a while, and said, "Fresca, come see this."
 
This is the first time anyone has called me by name in my 3 months there (even the aides hardly ever call me by name), and I realized how hard it has been, not feeling known. This gives me a glimmer of how hard it is for family  friends.
(I've suspected this woman does know who I am but couldn't be sure it wasn't just social posturing, which lingers a long time.)

2. Later I came across another resident crying in the dining room. 
He suffers from anxiety (cruel, cruel, worse than dementia in some ways).  I walked him back to his room where he feels safer. 

He told me "I don't want to be afraid anymore."

Seeing a rosary by his bed, I asked him if he'd like to pray.
"I don't remember how," he said.

Often this just ("just") means someone doesn't remember how to start, so I recited the 23rd psalm, "Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil."

"Sorry," I said, "I got lots of that wrong."

"It doesn't matter," he replied. "Thank you for your kindness. I can sleep now."

3. It was a day of connecting well with men.
I've been asking people at work for help with American football, so I can know how to reach the men who like it. The aides are mostly from other countries and tell me they only like soccer. (Me too, guys.)

But the maintenance guy is American-born, and he follows the game. Yesterday he told me that the Gophers, our college team, were in a big game. I found the right TV channel, and a couple guys were happy (truly happy!) to come and watch. 

I served beer and potato chips.
My boss, the activities director, had bought the cheapest, bottom of the barrel beer. One guy didn't mind.
The other sipped it, said, "This is terrible," and handed it back.

More good luck: we had root beer in the fridge, leftover from some event, and he liked that.

An aide told me, "You're the only one who ever tries to get the men to join in."
Sad news, but I felt proud I had managed it.

What a great start to the New Year, after a couple weeks of feeling rather unhappy at work. I will remember these things that worked when I hit another stretch (guaranteed ahead) when nothing does.