Mr. J Receives Another Assignment

Can he do it?

Photo by Glenn Carstens-Peters on Unsplash

Author’s Note: This post details events that occurred earlier this year. I am taking my time processing these events before publishing. Thank you for staying with me.

Another Visit to OT

(Our previous visit with the OT is here.)

Friday morning, we head back to the OT office. Once settled in M’s office, she says, “I did not expect this,” pointing to a printed version of his email. “Ha!” said Mr. J. M continued. “Honestly, I thought I’d turn on my email this morning, and there wouldn’t be anything from you.” Personally, I am sitting next to Mr. J, practicing box breathing in an attempt to stay calm and measured. I have learned, over the years, that if I give in to my inner wild banshee, people tend to not trust the value of my words. So, I am breathing. “It’s a draft,” Mr. J says. “I would agree,” M responds. “This letter is not ready to be sent out.” M turns to me. “What do you think?” “I think,” I take another slow, deep breath, “That this is sloppy. It lacks data. It doesn’t provide citations.” “Oh, you and your citations,” says Mr. J. “But that’s important,” M interjects. “Right? You are asking for an exception to be made to allow you to go to the World Renowned Medical Center (WRMC) to be seen again. You probably only have one shot at this, so you want as much medical detail as you can.” Mr. J concedes the point.

Concerns

“Here’s my other concern,” I continue. “Mr. J and I have very different approaches to work. Mr. J flies by the seat of his pants, and he’s fine with that. I’ve got 25 years of stories of Mr. J knowing that a deadline is coming up and not even starting the project until the day before.” “Or the day of,” Mr. J interjects. “Yes,” I nod. “Or the day of. I can’t tell if this is just a repetition of those habits, or what.” “That’s how I work,” Mr. J says. “Yes,” M agrees. “It is how you’ve always worked. But you can’t do that anymore. You need to rely on the tools in your toolbox to help your brain work better.”

Let’s Make a List

“What do you need to do to get this document up to snuff?” M asks Mr. J. “First, I need to call the Board about my license. Maybe I’m making this too big of a deal. Maybe they’ll just give it back to me. I mean, I did give it up voluntarily.” M looks at him kindly. Softly, she says, “Nobody with a degenerative brain disease is going to get back their professional license. That’s why this homework is so important. You’re going to have to prove to them that you can do it.” “Okay,” Mr. J continues. “I’ll call the Board. Then I’ll see if I can get into MyChart.” “I can get you into MyChart,” I volunteer. “No, no,” says M. “This is not your project. This is Mr. J’s project.” Fair point. “Now, I don’t think you need to call the Board. The point of this letter isn’t that you want your license back. The point of this letter is that you want to go back to the WRMC to get some clarity.” “Okay.” Mr. J crosses “call the board” off his list. “So, I’ll log in to MyChart if I can.” “And what if you can’t?” M asks. Mr. J shrugs. “I’ll figure it out.” “That’s not a strategy,” M submits. “I’ll . . . look around the website. And if that doesn’t work, I’ll call someone.” “Okay, good,” M says. “What’s next?”

After a long pause, I say, “Maybe you could set a timer and work on it for 15 minutes a day?” “You love your 15 minutes,” Mr. J retorts. “All the time,” he says to M, “she says, ‘let’s just do this for 15 minutes.’” “But that’s a strategy,” M points out. “15 minutes is nothing. It’s taking small, bite sized tasks that are manageable for your brain.” Together, Mr. J and M work on another four or five strategies. “I’ll have it to you on Tuesday. Close of business on Tuesday,” Mr. J says with confidence.

My Chart

Mr. J did spend one of the next four days logging into his “MyChart” account and locating the relevant reports. Then he announced he was taking a break and did not sit back down at his computer again. It took a lot of self control for me to keep my mouth shut. Tuesday came and went. Wednesday rolled around with no comment (or work) from Mr. J. On Thursday, I ask, “What would you do in the old days if you were going to miss a deadline.” Mr. J couldn’t come up with anything. “Maybe,” I offer, “ask for a continuance?” “I don’t want to do that,” Mr. J says. On Thursday afternoon, Mr. J and I got emails from M. Mr. J has chosen not to respond. I have chosen not to carry on like my inner banshee would like me to do. Because, at the end of the day, it’s Mr. J’s choice. Not mine.