Free the bunny

   And no, for the record, despite the title, I always just write "Christmas," except in the title of this entry, which necessitated this explanation, which implies that I should just edit it, but I think I appreciate the scatter-brainedness of this paragraph.

   In any case, pixiecrack and I have spent the last two days shopping for Christmas presents and stuff. I hate shopping. We waited until we were here because that way we wouldn't have to ship/pack presents from California to Louisiana; I think that may have been a mistake, but given how busy Dickens Fair kept us, I don't think we would have had any time otherwise.

   My family are fine; my aunt S., who rocks much ass, took us for a celebratory dinner at the Commander's Palace, a five-star restaurant here in New Orleans. It was--okay. I mean, the food was good, but not mind-blowingly good. The company more than made up for that, though.

   S. told us a story about visiting with her mother (my MaMa) in the nursing home. S. is gregarious, extremely outgoing, and VERY assertive. She noticed that most of the 15 patients in my grandmother's ward were silent and withdrawn; the staff told her that most of them had lost the ability to speak and interact.

   S. had them talking within a week or so of visiting. Nothing incredibly profound in some cases (although one resident tried to and eventually did persuade S. to bring her a good stiff drink, with the doctor's permission), but she got words out of them.

   During a scheduled event at which all of the residents' and their families met with the staff, S. decided to complain about the lack of mental stimulation the residents received. Her point was that they got physical therapy, but very little social interaction or mental challenges. Some of the other patients' families agreed and asked her to represent them to the staff.

   She, of course, did so. She challenged the staff to provide more interaction and activity for the residents. The director replied that the patients had lost the capacity for speech and interaction. S. responded, "I can get all fifteen of them talking in five minutes. If I do that, will you reconsider what I'm saying?"

   The staff didn't believe her. She assembled the residents in a circle, and brought out a large rabbit-shaped balloon she'd bought for her mother. She told the patients, "This rabbit, like all of you, is trapped here, and he can't leave. He can't talk, and no one would listen to him if he did--like you. If you all chant, 'Free the bunny!' the staff will have to listen to you, and I'll let this bunny go, and he can leave here, and go out into the world and experience all the things you can't anymore. Free the bunny!"

   She said that it took some doing; she had to urge particular individuals to chant, had to get close to them and gesture and speak loudly and emphatically--but they did it. All fifteen elderly residents, whom the staff had written off as unable to communicate or understand, chanted "Free the bunny! Free the bunny!"--and she did.

   My aunt S. rocks ass.