Politically correct terminology has always been a thorn for me. It’s even thornier for people living with dementia (aka PLWD). Wow, the acronym is as cumbersome and draining as three kids under five in the supermarket. And what happens if you can’t remember the phrase or letters? Well, there is no avoiding it. This brings us to politically correct purgatory (aka PCP – oops!) or politically correct hell (PCH – which is sorta like PSCH). Our memories aren’t great, but joy comes from the executive functioning glitches. Check this one out.
At Teepa Snow’s two-day coaching training for those who care for FED (folks enjoying dementia), they handed out small cups of applesauce and little cups of water during one of the sessions. Sorta like doctor office cups or small cups for water coolers. (are there water coolers anymore?) It was about two o’clock and I was sitting at my table of four.
I thought to myself. ‘Well, how nice is that. A mid-afternoon snack served at our break. With spoons for the applesauce no less. Cool!’ I reached out and ate my applesauce. It was cool and sweet. Way good. I was surprised, really, that my partners didn’t partake. I was thinking about encouraging them to eat up, but that morphed into gluttony when I decided I could slurp theirs, too, since they apparently didn’t want them. The words were moving over my tongue and just waiting for my lips to part when someone from the front asked whether we had the cups for the afternoon demonstration. Oops. That’s why they didn’t join me. The FED thought it was super funny and only the lady at the next table joined in the fun and shared her applesauce. It got a lot of laughs in multiple tellings.
P.S. Back to part one. There has got to be a better word for urinal. I mean the toilet isn’t always called the poop place. So how about the men’s liquid site for disposal. (MLSFD)