GUEST POST: Staten Island in the Wake of Superstorm Sandy…

 by Sheila Linden, LMSW, with Rita Ruel

Sheila Linden, LMSW

Note: In March 2010, Sheila Linden, LMSW, a licensed social worker for 30 years, joined VNSNY CHOICE, a subsidiary of Visiting Nurse Service of New York. Sheila was recently recognized among just 64 of VNSNY’s 18,000 staff members to receive an ESPRIT Award, the organization’s highest honor. Chosen to speak at the awards ceremony, Sheila shared her experiences helping VNSNY CHOICE members and others while volunteering at Tottenville High School in Staten Island, in the wake of Superstorm Sandy. Here is the text of her speech:

Even if Superstorm Sandy had never taken place, tonight I would have no shortage of unique and inspirational stories to share about the VNSNY CHOICE members I’ve had the privilege of working with during the past few years.  Collaborating with such an exceptional group of professionals, my VNSNY CHOICE colleagues, has made my experiences even more rewarding…  Here are just a couple of examples: 

Working with Sally, a brave, resilient 79-year-old member, we rid her home of repeated bedbug infestations and -- more recently – I supported her as she underwent radiation and chemotherapy treatments. 

Or, the case of 95-year-old Helen, whose dementia and episodes of wandering had alienated her family – except for her grandson, John. John loyally struggled to care for Helen, then broke down in tears and needed much consolation when his grandmother finally moved to a nursing home with a dementia unit, for her own safety.

I feel honored and humbled to be acknowledged by my dedicated co-workers, and feel grateful for their indescribably warm, helpful support.  I have been a social worker for three decades, but the past several years spent on the VNSNY CHOICE team in Staten Island have made me wish that I joined this organization long ago.

Superstorm Sandy has been the latest, unforgettable chapter.  After losing power in my own home in Staten Island, I volunteered to help out at the evacuation center at Tottenville High School.  Among the evacuees there, I was surprised to find my member, Dorothy, and her husband, Henry. Their home was so damaged by flooding that its foundation cracked, and it was uninhabitable.  Dorothy has multiple co-morbidities, including dementia and hypertension. She has suffered a stroke, needs oxygen 24/7 due to chronic COPD, and is in a wheelchair.  Until just a few months ago, her husband and primary caregiver, Henry, was an adjunct professor of finance at NYU. Now he is undergoing chemotherapy for Hodgkin’s lymphoma.  The Red Cross and clinicians at the evacuation center were managing to keep Dorothy and Henry medically stable, in spite of the extraordinary circumstances, but no immediate/safe plan was in place once the shelters began to consolidate.  

Once I found Dorothy and Henry, I checked in with them nearly every day. Extensive rounds of negotiations began, with various agencies and facilities, with the couple themselves, and with their sons in New Jersey and Staten Island. One of their sons is disabled, and both were going through their own problems in the wake of the hurricane. Several days went by, and the best outcome I could obtain, to keep the couple from being transferred to yet another evacuation center, was to get Dorothy admitted into a long-term care facility. However, the couple refused to be separated, even temporarily! Just when it looked as though moving Dorothy by herself could not be avoided, their son Michael succeeded in getting them a new apartment in Staten Island. Since then, I have made a number of visits to their new home, to ensure that their needs are being met. 

After all the destruction and pain that Hurricane Sandy has wrought in our area, our city, and my Staten Island, I barely have words to say how meaningful it has been to use my training and experience to help members like Dorothy and Henry come through this ordeal safe, alive, and together.   As you know, some other vulnerable people in our community were not so lucky.

I will never forget the ordeal that I shared and the help I was able to provide to Dorothy, Henry and their family – for in all our communities, there are so often complicated, complex issues which impede upon a safe care plan.  This experience will surely stack up among the most memorable experiences of my life.

GUEST POST: How To Bring Conversations to a Screeching Halt

by Kristin Johnson

I learned many years ago when I made a woman cry (at a party no less) that sometimes even the mere mention of what I do for a living can shut down just about any conversation.  I was at a friend’s baby shower, and we were all recent college grads.  The hostess asked me if I was working, and I told her I was a child protection social worker.  She dissolved into tears as she described a story she had just read in the paper about a baby being abused by a parent. It was a terrible story, but she immediately associated me with that story and spent the rest of the shower tearfully telling me that she didn’t know how I could possibly do my job.

I’m never sure how to take that comment, and I get it all the time.  Sometimes it’s spoken with a bit of awe:   “I don’t know how you do your job!”   Other times, it comes across with a bit of a tone:  “I could never do your job.”   I understand that it’s usually meant as some type of compliment, but I also wonder if the unspoken question is, ”What kind of person chooses to be around such misery every day?”

There are other professions that involve varying degrees of sadness, stress, overwork, and worry, but they are usually viewed with more admiration.    Oncologists, fire fighters, police officers, NICU nurses…usually these people are admired and honored, and they are often portrayed in the media as noble, self-sacrificing warriors.

Social work is rarely portrayed in the media, but when it is, it is almost universally negative.  Usually, the social worker is the cold and unfeeling.  Oftentimes the “real hero” of the story tries to protect the child in question from “the system” out of fear that the child will get lost or abused even worse if that nasty social worker gets her hands on him.

It is even more negative when there is a high profile child abuse case in the news.  These cases are often the only time that child protection gets any media attention, and the story is usually about whether the system did enough.  At worst, the stories attack and blame the local child protection agency for failing to protect the child.  And because of data privacy laws, the local agency can say nothing more than, “no comment,” which in this day and age is often taken as an admission of guilt.

So back to the question: “How do you do your job?”  I can only speak for myself, but I have learned to accept the reality that sometimes Bad Things happen to kids.   It’s a truth that feels wrong to accept.  For one, adults are supposed to be the protectors of children, and if we accept that child abuse happens, then doesn’t it mean that the adults have failed?   Second, most people who hurt their children don’t look the part.  There are a thousand reasons why a parent abuses a child, but it is rare that a parent hurts his child with no guilt, shame, or remorse.  The vast majority of parents who hurt their children also love those same children dearly.  It is a paradox that is hard to grasp in a black and white world.    

The grimace that I get from people who ask about my job comes from not wanting to think about or hear about child abuse.  And I get that completely.  There are days that I don’t want to think about it either.  In our office, we talk about how nice it would be not to know what we know.  I’m guessing it’s that feeling that leads to the burnout that is common in the profession.

But to be honest, there’s not a lot of turnover at my agency, and that’s because we also laugh a lot—not at our clients’ expense, but we do laugh about almost everything else that comes with our jobs—awkwardly observing urine drug testing, getting chased by mangy dogs, playing cards with hilarious grade schoolers.  So sometimes all we can do is laugh.  And many times, my clients and I laugh together.

So my usual answer to the question that brings a hush over the room is that I have learned to accept, to do the best I can, to be kind, and to laugh.

Kristin Johnson has worked for nearly 20 years at Goodhue County Social Services in Red Wing, MN.  She has recently published a novel based in the child protection system called “unprotected.”  Find more information at www.kristinleejohnson.com.