Why in Asia?

As many of you may know, I’ve been working on a new series. It’s been a long process in the making. I got the first inklings all the way back in April, when I gave myself a new challenge to try and create new characters every day of the month. It wasn’t easy or fun, but I was able to find two different characters that had the beginnings of a great story.

I hadn’t figured out very much before I went to the museum, to a special exhibit on pirates. Obviously, after that, I knew pirates had to be in my story, which meant it needed to be in a world with an ocean, or at least a sea. The names I’d randomly picked for these characters were Italian in descent, so I’d set it in the Mediterranean.

I plotted my story, but kept running into the same issue. It didn’t feel right. The plot wasn’t working. The characters didn’t feel natural. It was a very odd experience, especially since I usually had no issues with plotting. To be fair, usually, my stories weren’t this fragmented when I started out, but that didn’t mean it needed to be this hard.

It was about that time that I read an article on diversity in reading. It wasn’t the first one I’d ever read, and believe me, it won’t be the last. I think just yesterday, I might have read two or three.

I wish I’d saved the article, but it said something that really hit home. The author asked why all fantasy worlds seem to be set in medieval Europe. They mentioned that there were so many cultures at that time, in Africa, South America, Asia… it makes no sense for every story to be in the same world and within the same predominant culture.

When I read about diversity before, I always thought it wasn’t really up to me. This is a fantasy world, and fantasy, from my experience, and from everything I’d read, was in medieval Europe. It hadn’t even occurred to me that there could be diversity within fantasy as well. That I could create a world based off of a different culture.

The moment I decided to try an Asian world, the entire story fell into place. The culture fit the story in a way I couldn’t have imagined. Certain character aspects that didn’t make sense in Italy made total sense in Japan.

Diversity can be acknowledged in any situation, and in any world. There’s no reason why we can’t spread out, expand to other cultures and present the stories of other people. Don’t box yourself in. Explore. Experiment. Maybe your characters and story will benefit.

Living in the United States: Kenny

Living in a different country is hard. Not being part of the normal, even if you're from that country, is hard too. There are so many people who deal with prejudices and stereotypes every day, and sometimes, all they want is someone to understand them. This is a new series on my blog, called Living in the United States, where I talk to people about what it's like to be in the minority.

Today, our first interviewee is Kenny, my wonderful hubby who was willing to be my guinea pig.

Let’s start out with, where are you from?

Hi people, this is Kenny. I’m from Santa Cruz, Bolivia

How long have you been in the United States?

Well, let me tell you. I’m been in the United States for about, close to be 7 years.

What brought you to the United States?

A gringuita.

What did you think it would be like, living here?

I don’t know. You see something in the TVs and you see big houses and stuff, but nothing appeared to my imagination.

Do you feel different when you’re around a whole bunch of Americans?

Do you think so? I have a dark colored skin, so that’s something, right?

Do you think they treat you differently?

Yeah, of course. There are some things I don’t understand. It depends on the person, actually.

What do you miss most about your country?

Just the food.

What’s your favorite Bolivian Food?

Salteñas, because I can get it here.

What do you wish people from the US knew about Bolivians or your country?

I’m not Mexican, so they need to figure out that all the south is not Mexico.

Do you think you’re treated like a Mexican, or that people think you know everything about Mexico?

Both. Because I look different, and people assume I’m from Mexico, but it’s not true. Some people get offended when you assume, there are a lot of countries that are not Mexico.

Do you feel like you make more friends with Americans or Non-Americans?

You need to notice that you usually get along with people that are the same as you. So in my case, I go for the Latinos, or people who are not from the US, because it’s easy to get along, I guess, because someone is from different country, I understand you better, how to be an immigrant here, and you will share some experiences.

Do you feel like Americans don’t understand you?

They don’t need to understand me, I mean, if they’re Americans, they’re in a bubble, usually, and sometimes you need to burst the bubble to get into the environment, otherwise they won’t’ care about you.

Do you think you have burst the bubble?

For so many people, yes, but that’s… for Americans, you have a conversation with someone, and they’re not even polite. Someone comes, and they don’t introduce, they start talking to you, and then the person they were talking to before is by themselves.

What did you find most unusual about living in the United States?

One is that they don’t introduce friends to other friends. Because, when someone comes that I know, I introduce to the other one, and I make a big circle so everyone knows to each other. But here, they have a bubble, and this is my bubble, and you don’t touch my bubble. This is my personal space, and you cannot be like this, very close, and breathe on my neck.

What do you like about Americans?

They are givers. That’s how they are. If you notice, in the internet everywhere, if something happens, and someone does a collections, everyone runs to help that person, it doesn’t matter what color they are, you can have help even if you’re a stranger.

Is there any advice you would give to Americans if they’re interacting with someone from a different culture?

Be patient when they’re talking, because so many people struggle with talking. If you’re not interested, go away. It’s true. Sometimes, you try to talk, when your English is not good enough, but if you’re not interested why are you wasting your time?

Is there anything else you want to say?

Thank you people.

Therapeutic Lying

Alzhimer’s is not an easy disease to deal with. I remember watching my Great-Grandfather, confused, throwing out accusations at nurses and family. It’s hard on the caregivers, and you’d better believe that it’s hard on the person who has it. Alzheimer’s isn’t the same thing as the romanticized version in books and movies. It’s painful, exhausting, and often taxes emotion and mental emotions more than anything else.

I had the privilege of working with Alzheimer patients from the very beginning. I was a CNA at an assisted living specifically for Alzheimer and Dementia patients, and from there on out, it became one of my passions.

I’ve talked to many people over the years who have some issues with one of the recommended therapies for Alzheimer’s patients: Therapeutic lying.

Therapeutic lying doesn’t mean lying to the patient about their cares or about the situation. In most cases, the patient (or family member) doesn’t live in our reality necessarily. I’ve had many patients believe they’re sixteen years old, or twenty, or even five. They think they’re a mother, waiting for their kids to come to school, or an engineer, directing the maintenance department.

As odd as it might be for caregivers or family, their reality is as real to them as ours is to us. How would you feel if you were talking to a husband, a brother, a daughter, and every time you said something, they’d argue? Telling you that you’re crazy and that what you’re seeing, what you’re feeling is wrong?

Let me give you an example:

One of my patients, Carl*, was admitted at the same time I started working in the facility. He was a vivacious man, happy, energetic, and he loved to flirt with the female staff. He loved to laugh, and he always had a smile on his face. I loved working with him, to feel his energy. He had Alzheimer’s, and he was confused. During the day, he would ask where his wife is. I’d been taught that for Alzheimer’s, you step into their reality. Something like:

“Where’s Deborah?*”

“I don’t know.” Glance at watch. “It’s about three o’clock. Do you think she’s out picking the kids up from school?”

“Oh, yes, you’re probably right.”

Conversations like this help to calm the patient down. It helps them believe that they’re not missing someone, or that something bad hasn’t happened. Carl’s family, however, did not approve of lying to him, and they insisted we always tell him the truth. I overheard a conversation between Carl and his family, and it about broke my heart.

“Where’s Deborah?”

“She’s dead, dad.”

“Dead?” Carl began to sob, long, loud tears. “How? When did that happen?”

“A year and a half ago. You were there, remember?”

No, he didn’t remember. It’s part of the short term, the first thing that goes when someone has Alzheimer’s. He remembers his wife, how much he loves her. He does not remember she’s dead. As staff, we weren’t allowed to use thereptuic lying, and each time I had to tell her she’s dead, it broke my heart even more. His family even went so far as to hang signs in his room, over the phone, by the door.

“Remember Carl, Debora’s dead. You can’t call her.”

In three short months, Carl became depressed. I know what you’re thinking. He’s confused, he doesn’t remember. So why would he get depressed? Here’s the thing I’ve learned over years of working with Alzheimer’s patients.

They don’t remember events. They don’t remember names or faces, but they do remember how they feel. They may not know why they feel angry, or sad or confused, but it lingers. The longer a person is depressed and upset, the more it sticks with them. Poor Carl was reminded, over and over again about his wife’s death. He grieved each time like it was the first time he’d been told. Soon, he stopped walking, and then he stopped eating. Finally, he refused to get out of bed.

His family blamed us. They said we weren’t doing enough for him. He was removed and put into a different nursing home.

The lesson Carl taught me was a powerful one. Each experience we make for our patients, each word we speak, is going to make a difference. They may not remember in the distant future, but they will remember how you make them feel. It’s the reason why some patients naturally bond with certain nurses and CNAs. They don’t remember why, but they know that they can trust that person.

As terrible as it sounds, therapeutic lying is necessary. They don’t always live in our reality, and we don’t live in theirs. But that doesn’t mean we can’t help them make sense of what they’re living, and what they’re experiencing.

For more information on therapeutic lying, go to: Alzheimers.net

*Names have been changed

My Favorite Things

At the beginning of the year, I went to an activity for the women in my church. It was a getting to know you activity, because we’d had so many people move in and out. That’s what happens when everyone’s a student. As the night wore on, I realized I didn’t quite fit into the mold. We each brought something small to represent our favorite thing. We put it in a brown paper bag and then we drew names out of a bowl. Each person took a turn answering simple questions.

1.       What are you studying? What are your life goals?

2.       What is your favorite animal?

3.       Who is your celebrity crush?

4.       What is your favorite movie?

I was one of the last to go. I listened to each of their answers and realized there seemed to be a theme. Life goals involved school, or family. Favorite animal: either cat/dog or something exotic like a panda or koala. Celebrity crushes ranged from Ryan Gosling to Damon from Vampire Diaries. Honestly, I’d only heard of half of them. Favorite movie consisted of a lot of Rom Coms. Don’t get me wrong, if I’m in the mood, Rom Coms are great, but most of the time, the plotline makes me roll my eyes. And probably seventy percent of them had chocolate in their bag. If not, it was some kind of food, or something cutsey.

When it got to my turn, I was a little nervous.

Swallowing, I started.

“I already finished school awhile ago. I’m a nurse. My life goal right now is for my husband to be done with school.”

Short term goal, I know, but it is VERY important to me. I don’t want to be stuck in perpetual studenthood forever.

“I don’t like animals. I prefer rocks.”

I got a lot of laughs out of that, but it’s not a joke. I honestly prefer rocks over animals. I had a rock collection growing up that had hundreds of rocks, card cataloged and separated into eight different drawers.

“My celebrity crush is Lionel Messi.”

I blame hubby on that one. He’s exposed me to a lot more soccer over the past few years, and since he’s a huge Real Madrid fan, it only seemed natural I should choose Barcelona. Only two girls knew who he was.

“My favorite movie right now is the Avengers series.”

I love the storytelling. There are plot holes, like there are in any movie, but seriously, Joss Whedon has an incredible grasp on human nature. He knows what he’s doing.

In my bag, I had a pack of pens.

“My favorite thing is writing. I’ve written 7 novels so far, and I’m the co-leader for the National Novel Writing Month group here, and my friend and I founded another writing group from that, and we meet twice a month.”

Yeah, I’m different. But honestly, after introducing myself and stating my favorite things, I realized that I wouldn’t change because I’m different. I like who I am, and I like those things because I find them interesting.

First Date with Electronic Translator

Today I’m going to tell you a love story. It’s my own.

I moved to Spain almost immediately after I graduated from High School. I lived there for two years while I studied international nursing. I was determined not to fall in love or get married until after I finished college. Famous last words, right?

Within my first few weeks in Madrid, I met a tall Bolivian. 

Unfortunately, we weren’t so impressed with each other. I thought he was making fun of my very poor Spanish (which he claims he wasn’t) and he thought I was way younger than I was, and thought I was trying to sneak into the older Sunday school group.

As we got to know each other, even though we didn’t speak the same language, we realized we definitely had a connection. We could make one another laugh without speaking. Finally, he worked up the courage to ask me on a date. Except, since he sent me a text, and I had to translate it, I thought he wanted to meet. I didn’t even realize we were dating until a few weeks later.

The first time we met, we went to a beautiful plaza in Madrid, called Plaza de España. Since he didn’t speak English and I didn’t speak Spanish, we had a very fractured conversation, consisting of mostly typing into an electronic translator and transferring it back and forth. After a few hours, we walked into the palace gardens where there was an abstract art show, and being the helpful person he is, my husband insisted on making me describe what I thought each piece looked like, in Spanish.

It took us several weeks before we could have a semi-fluent conversation and even longer before we could converse without difficulty. Because of the language barriers, we learned how to read body language and expressions very well.

It was slow, and sometimes tedious, but it was worth it. When we moved back to the US, we went through the same process as he learned English. Except I was much less patient with him as he attempted to learn English.

It’s amazing how some people think not speaking the same language is a hinderment to communication. There’s so much more that goes into communication, often words can be ineffective. I’ve found that when speaking, I don’t know the right words, and find myself stumbling. Maybe it’s better to focus on the nonverbal cues, so we can get to really know a person.

Patients That Changed My Life: Berta

As a nurse, I have the chance to meet a lot of people from all walks of life. Some are fun, and some are not so fun. Then there are those that change my life, and changed the kind of nurse I am. For privacy issues, I won’t use their real names, but I want to tell you their stories.

For other stories, click here

One such patient was Berta. She immigrated to the United States when she was in her twenties, and she was one of the sweetest women I’d ever met. She was mobile up until she died, wandering around, pushing her walker. You could always hear her coming because she loved to talk, and she loved to call to everyone around her and say hi.

One day, while I was sitting at the nurses’ desk, she came and sat next to me. She babbled for a long time, and we had a fun conversation while I charted, and all of a sudden, she pointed to one of our signs and read it to me. I was shocked, because she hadn’t ever shown the ability to read. Not that I’d really tested, but she’d never been able to sign her own consents, or find her own room, which had her name on it.

I quickly covered any sensitive information, then pulled out a piece of paper, writing her name on it.

She pointed to it with a wide grin.

“Berta! That’s me!”

I grinned. “Yes, it is.”

Again, she pointed to the paper. “Berta! That’s me!”

I knew she spoke German, and it had been years since I’d taken any German classes (3^rd-6^th grade to be precise) but I did remember a few phrases. I pulled out another paper and wrote a simple phrase. I was curious if she could read German as well.

Ich liebe dich.

She read the words silently at first, and then tears came to her eyes. She read it in German before translating into English. “Ich liebe dich. I love you.” I don’t know if it was reading her mother language, or having someone say those simple words to her. In nursing homes, they don’t get visitors very often, and as much as we care for them, I don’t know that they always feel loved.

Then she got distracted by someone walking by. While she wasn’t looking, I taped the sign right in front of her. Throughout the remainder of the time she sat with me, she would talk to those passing by, and when they left, she’d look down and see ‘Ich liebe dich.’ Every single time, she got excited, and translated it so I knew what I meant.

It’s the small things that make a difference. Sometimes, all they need is love.

Meeting a Hero

As I mentioned before, I had the awesome opportunity to attend LTUE last month. It was the experience of a lifetime, and for more than one reason.

Last year, when my friend mentioned the symposium, I was excited to go, though I wasn’t sure what to expect. Then, Shannon Hale posted on her blog she’d been asked to be one of the keynote speakers.

I am a huge Shannon Hale fan.

When I was in junior high, I randomly found her book, Goose Girl, at the library. I’m one of those nerds who read fairy tales from all cultures along with Nancy Drew while in elementary school. I immediately recognized the name of the fairy tale, and I picked it up, intrigued. I hadn’t really read very many fairy tale retellings, and I believe at that time, they were just beginning to become popular.

I took it home and devoured the book. It quickly became an all-time favorite. While reading it, I realized how much fun it would be to write a story of my own, a retelling of one of my favorite stories.

It took me a few years before I found the perfect story, but that novel, inspired by Shannon Hale’s Goose Girl, was the first novel I ever wrote. It was a retelling of Beauty and the Beast, and it holds a very special spot in my heart, because it’s what started me on this whole journey.

When I finally went to LTUE, I was so excited to meet Shannon Hale. She gave a Keynote speech that blew me away. My friends and I couldn’t stop talking about it, and I’ve told my family, friends and coworkers about it. She’s an inspiration in more ways than one, and I was nervous about meeting her.

I’m sure it’s stressful, being under the spotlight like that, having everyone recognize you wherever you are for an entire weekend. But she was pleasant, and took the time to interact with her fans and fellow writers.

One of the things I heard while at LTUE was ‘Pay it forward.’ You never know when something you do for someone else will affect the series of events following. I’m so grateful I have the example of such gracious writers, who are willing to help cultivate the love of writing in young, budding authors.

I just wish I’d written down a list of things to ask her when I finally had the chance. My mind kind of went blank in the moment.