How it started
I would like to tell you about our project, which started in the
London Borough of Camden. We give training to care workers. We show
them how to support people who have communication difficulties.
We believe that when you work with someone who finds it difficult
to use words, you have to help them so that they can be understood,
and so that you can understand them. We must all learn how to do
this.
How did it start? During the spring of 1995 my husband,
John, was a worried man. Unfortunately he couldn't tell anybody
about it, because he couldn't speak. He'd had a stroke early that
year, which had left him unable to write and neither could he read
anymore. His worry showed on his face. When I asked him what was
wrong, every time he would just shrug a 'what is the use,' shrug.
I bought a kiddy's paint set and drawing paper and left it by his
bedside to give him something to do, because there was no television
to watch in the ward either.
That started him painting. He'd been drawing and painting ever
since then. Everyone, including the staff at hospital, saw and admired
his work.
When he was discharged from rehab I packed his paintings and drawings
into a big plastic bag and took them home. And forgot about them.
Four years later I opened the bag.
'Hey, this looks good,' I said about the drawing of
the Two Figures. 'What does this mean?'
I asked. 'You drew it long ago - in 1995'. John smiled. He pointed
to himself, and then to me. Him and me. Then he frowned and took
the picture from me. Putting it on his lap, he pointed to the dark
bit in the middle, between the two figures. Shaking his head, he
looked up at me from his wheelchair. A real sad look.
'Does it mean you were worried about something when
you drew it?' I asked. Yes, he nodded, moving his finger up and
down over the dark bit between the two figures, frowning deeply.
Then he made swinging movements with his good arm, from small to
large. A widening gap.
'Ah!' It dawned on me. 'You were worried about us
- that we would split up?' Yes, he nodded. 'Are you still worried
about that?' Another nod. 'But why - when we're still together?'
John pointed to his genitals, and to mine. And at the picture, the
bottom bit. The figures in the drawing have no bottoms.
'By golly, John. You mean you've been worried all
this time that you and I were going to split up because we're not
having sex?' Now the nod was very slow, his lips pursed in anger.
And you were telling us about it in your picture, but nobody was
listening!'
I felt like kicking myself. I still do. Neither I,
nor any of the speech and language, occupational, physio- therapists
(and there had been many) had spoken to John about his fears, which
were plainly to be seen in his paintings and drawings strewn all
over his bed and locker all those months. Not even the resident
psychotherapist on the rehab ward (who at the time felt that there
was no need for her services as John had not 'asked' for counselling),
had noticed. We had all been too busy trying to get him to say words,
to brush his teeth, to re-learn to make tea, to transfer, to walk.
All important things. But no more important than his non-verbalised
fears. Nobody had been listening. All of us were ignoring him when
he was speaking through his pictures - trying to start conversations
through his drawings.
So we started Pictures Speak, to
make sure that those involved with people with communication difficulties
- in hospital, in the community, at home - would realise how important
it is that THOSE OF US WITHOUT COMMUNICATION DIFFICULTIES have a
DUTY to learn to communicate effectively with those who have difficulty
using words. |
