Welcome to Creative Conversations Weekly! . In this section we are offering suggestions for follow-up activities now that the sessions you had with John have ended. . Remember that you can still speak to John for mentoring and ongoing support. He is keen to hear how you are all getting on!
For this week, we suggest that first of all you listen to this song without watching the film which goes with it. Try noticing the impressions you form about Kenny Chesney's father, and the relationship he and his son have.
Then listen again whilst watching the film, and see whether and how this changes your ideas.
If you can, discuss your experience with a colleague.
The following comes from an article written by photographer Tim Booth.
I photograph a lot of people and I love doing that but I know that the viewer has a lot going on in their head when they look at a photograph of someone's face. Our brains are hardwired to make judgements about faces --- 'I like that person' or 'I don't trust that person'. Those judgements aren't always reliable and often aren't fair.
When you look at a pair of hands you don't make the same kinds of judgement, you just think, 'Gosh, what have those hands done? What kind of life have they lived?' You are more interested in their history and what they have done, not what they look like. You get to paint your own picture in your mind of that person's story.
One of the remarkable things about hands is they're almost a paradox in themselves in that they really are mallets and screwdrivers and hammers, they're incredibly tough tools. When you look at some of the labourers' hands you think 'How can you feel the world through this?' because they have been so beaten up – and yet despite that they're able to be tremendously sensitive; for good or bad. Hands do these contradictory things that they shouldn't really be able to do – it's amazing to have something that is really tough and very gentle at the same time. Just holding someone's hand, just doing that, is as tender as a hug – such a tiny movement which communicates so much.
You can see some of Tim Booth's photographs from A Show of Hands, here.
Once you have read this, try giving more attention to the hands of the people you work with. Observe how noticing and appreciating someone’s hands may give you new insights into their life and experiences. Try talking to people about their hands, and perhaps your own.
This is a documentary made by Sue Bourne, who films her relationship with her mother, Ethel, who has dementia and lives in a care home. Sue’s daughter, Holly, also features in the film.
We would like you to look at two extracts, and in this order:
1. 33.13 to 36.40, beginning 'I must have walked down this corridor….' and ending with "And I love you too".
2. 8.18 to 9.13 beginning with walking along the prom to "You might bring me sweeties."
Now here are some questions we'd like you to think about:
First sequence
What is your impression of the relationship between Ethel and Sue? Does it change at all in the extract?
Do you think Sue should say things like "You're in a nursing home… all alone" etc. to her mother? If so, why?
Is it a good idea to remind someone living with dementia that a loved one has died? Or should you just go along with what they are saying?
What emotions do you think Sue is feeling when with her mother. And at other times?
Second sequence
Do you see any changes of role between mother and daughter in this extract? How would you describe these?
What do you think Sue is needing from this interaction?
How would you describe Ethel's initial reaction to Sue's question, and how does this develop?
Do you think trips out, like this one to the seaside, help their relationship, and in what ways?
What does watching these two passages make YOU feel? You might like to discuss some of these questions with others who have done the Creative Conversations course.
You might like to watch the whole video and see whether this changes your thoughts and feelings about what you have seen so far.
This is a piece of writing from a newspaper by a family carer about the staff who looked after her father in a care home:
Something I've noticed that really great carers do: they make things seem normal. In the face of terminal decline, the business of making each day happily unremarkable is a gift.
Fear has a way of sucking the joy out of life's smaller pleasures --- cups of tea, slices of cake, good songs on the radio, juicy gossip. And some carers are remarkably skilled at reclaiming it. Composure is also important. When someone is slowly but inexorably losing control of their bladder and bowels, with all the attendant accidents and embarrassment, a certain sang-froid is necessary.
I've also noticed that Dad's best carers demonstrate great flexibility. They will pick up whatever scraps of dialogue he throws out and spin them out into something like a conversation. They are pleased by his compliments, interested in his odd declarations.
They are also tactile. They don't shy away from his hugs or flinch when he wants to stroke their faces. They don't deprive him of that fundamental human need to touch someone else, and in that way they dignify him.
That thread of humanity is what skilled caring preserves.
REBECCA LEY
'sang-froid' = calmness
Think about a successful interaction you have had with one of the people you work with recently.
Did what Rebecca Ley says about making things seem normal, and bringing calmness, flexibility and use of touch apply in your case?
Perhaps there were other qualities, such as humour, playfulness or knowledge of their life-story, which you drew on?
Has reading Rebecca Ley's piece helped you to see the importance of your role in relation to an individual?