Marilyn Daniel's Reward

The Washington Post had a touching story about a direct care worker and her clients. Click here to read the full story.

Doing Heartwork -- The Story of Terrell Cannon

They call it “heartwork,” because “if you don’t do it from the heart, it makes it hard to do,” Terrell Cannon recently told a Philadelphia Inquirer columnist about the job of a direct-care worker.

Cannon was featured in a recent column called “While helping others, investing in themselves,” which examines the work of Home Care Associates, an employee-owned cooperative and affiliate of PHI located in Philadelphia.

Cannon worked her way up to director of training after a welfare caseworker referred her to HCA in 1993, when, as metro columnist Annette John-Hall writes, Cannon was “pregnant, unemployed, and angry.”

In the following clip from HeartWork, an original theater piece performed by women who work as home health aides and certified nurse aides, Cannon performs a dramatic monologue recounting her journey from a troubled youth to a rewarding career in home health care




Many thanks to PHI for this inspiring story. Read the full article here.

Live United!

David Seng, Director of Marketing at Human Touch Home Health Care in Allentown, is "living united". He gives back to the community by being involved in the Lehigh Valley Chapter of the Direct Care Workers Association!

Many thanks to David for attending our monthly meetings and offering great ideas on ways to recruit more members!

The Direct Support Professional Poem

This poem was written by Buck Hensley, a concerned community member. He wrote this poem to express his concern about the future of the Direct Care Workforce in his local area of Tennessee. The poem was printed by the Direct Support Professional Association of Tennessee in their October 2008 newsletter.

The DSP (Direct Support Professional)

Who? Who? Who shall hear my call?
To serve my people I see as great.
But the world sees as small.
Who will lead them from the shadows
into the light of day.
Who will help them pave their own
way.

Who will serve my people
that for so long have been hidden and
misunderstood.
Who will help them experience
freedom
and acceptance in their own
neighborhood.
The calling often times seems difficult
And the pay seems small
But the reward will be great at the end
of it all.

Just a Little Mixed Up

Cathy Price, an attendee of the conference, shared this poem:

Just a line to say I'm living,
That I'm not among the dead,
Though I'm getting more forgetful;
And more mixed up in the head.

For sometimes I can't remember
When I stand at the foot of the stairs
If I must go up for something,
Or I've just come down from there.

And before the fridge so often
My poor mind is filled with doubt,
Have I just put food away or --
Have I come to take some out?

And there's time when it's dark out,
With my night cap on my head
I don't know if I'm retiring,
Or just getting out of bed.

So, if it's my turn to write you,
There's no need in getting sore,
I may think that I have written,
And don't want to be a bore.

So, remember, I do love you,
And wish that you were here --
But now, it's nearly mail time
So I must say, "Goodbye, Dear."

There I stood beside the mailbox,
With a face so very red,
Instead of mailing you my letter
I had opened it instead!

A Poem From A Dying Woman

This email was forwarded to me by an owner of one of the Long Term Care Facilities. I think it speaks to the many women in the DCW profession:

This poem was written by Erma Bombeck and found after she lost her fight with cancer.

I would have gone to bed when I was sick instead of pretending the earth would go into a holding pattern if I weren't there for the day.

I would have burned the pink candle sculpted like a rose before it melted in storage.

I would have talked less and listened more.

I would have invited friends over to dinner even if the carpet was stained, or the sofa faded.

I would have eaten the popcorn in the 'good' living room and worried much less about the dirt when someone wanted to light a fire in the fireplace.

I would have taken the time to listen to my grandfather ramble about his youth.

I would have shared more of the responsibility carried by my husband.

I would never have insisted the car windows be rolled up on a summer day because my hair had just been teased and sprayed.

I would have sat on the lawn! With my grass stains.

I would have cried and laughed less while watching television and more while watching life.

I would never have bought anything just because it was practical, wouldn't show soil, or was guaranteed to last a lifetime.

Instead of wishing away nine months of pregnancy, I'd have cherished every moment and realized that the wonderment growing inside me was the only chance in life to assist God in a miracle.

When my kids kissed me impetuously, I would never have said, 'Later. Now go get washed up for dinner.' There would have been more 'I love you 's'; more 'I'm sorry's.'

But mostly, given another shot at life, I would seize every minute...look at it and really see it... live it and never give it back. STOP SWEATING THE SMALL STUFF!!!

Don't worry about who doesn't like you, who has more, or who's doing what

Instead; let's cherish the relationships we have with those who do love us.

Crabby Old Man

One of the Direct Care Workers shared this poem with the group at the last meeting:

When an old man died in the geriatric ward of a small hospital near Tampa, FL it was believed that he had nothing left of any value.

Later, when the nurses were going through his meager possessions, they found this poem. Its quality and content so impressed the staff that copies were made and distributed to every nurse in the hospital.

Crabby Old Man

What do you see nurses?... What do you see?
What are you thinking... when you're looking at me?
A crabby old man, ... not very wise,
Uncertain of habit... with faraway eyes?

Who dribbles his food... and makes no reply.
When you say in a loud voice... "I do wish you'd try!"
Who seems not to notice... the things that you do.
And forever is losing... a sock or shoe?

Who, resisting or not... lets you do as you will,
With bathing and feeding... the long day to fill?
Is that what you're thinking?... Is that what you see?
Then open your eyes, nurse... you're not looking at me.

I'll tell you who I am... As I sit here so still,
As I do at your bidding, ... as I eat at your will.
I'm a small child of ten... with a father and mother,
Brothers and sisters... who love one another

A young boy of sixteen... with wings on his feet
Dreaming that soon now... a lover he'll meet.
A groom soon a twenty... my heart gives a leap.
Remembering the vows... I promised to keep.

At twenty-five now... I have young of my own.
Who need me to guide... and a secure happy home.
A man of thirty... my young now grown fast,
Bound to each other... with ties that should last.

At forty, my young sons... have grown and are gone,
But my woman's beside me... to see I don't mourn.
At fifty, once more, ... babies play 'round my knee,
Again, we know children... my loved one and me.

Dark days are upon me... my wife is now dead.
I look at the future... I shudder with dread.
For my young are all rearing... young of their own.
And I think of the years... And the love that I've known.

I'm now an old man... and nature is cruel.
'Tis jest to make old age... look like a fool.
The body, it crumbles... grace and vigor, depart.
There is now a ston... where I once had a heart.

But inside this old carcass... a young guy still dwells,
And now and again... my battered heart swells.
I remember the joys... I remember the pain.
And I'm loving and living... life over again.

I think of the years... all too few... gone too fast.
And accept the stark fact... that nothing can last.
So open your eyes, people... open and see
Not a crabby old man. Look closer... see ... ME!!

How to Dance in the Rain

One of the Direct Care Workers shared this story from a hospital worker at our last meeting:

It was a busy morning, about 8:30, when an elderly gentleman in his 80's arrived to have stitches removed from his thumb.

He said he was in a hurry as he an appointment at 9:00 am. I took his vital signs and had him take a seat, knowing it would be over an hour before someone would be able to see him.

I saw him looking at his watch, and decided, since I was not busy with another patient, I would evaluate his wound.

On exam, it was well healed, so I talked to one of the doctors, got the needed supplies to remove his sutures and redress the wound.

While taking care of his wound, I asked him if he had another doctor's appointment this morning, as he was in such a hurry.

The gentleman told me no, that he needed to go to the nursing home to eat breakfast with his wife.

I inquired as to her health. He told me that she had been there for a while and that she was a victim of Alzherimer's Disease.

As we talked, I asked if she would be upset if he was a bit late.

He replied that she no longer knew who he was, that she had not recognized him in five years now.

I was surprised, and asked him, "And you still go every morning even though she doesn't know who you are?"

He smiled as he patted my hand and said, "She doesn't know me, but I still know who she is."

I had to hold back the tears as he left, I had goose bumps on my arm and thought, "That is the kind of love I want in my life."

True love is neither physical, nor romantic. True love is acceptance of all that is, has been, will be, and will not be.

Another Valentine's Day Story

Here is another Valentine's Day story from a worker on the front lines of providing care (again, client names have been changed):


We have a resident on our Alzhiemer's unit that talks about preparing for Valentine's Day. His name is "Ned" and his wife is passed away. In group activities or simulation from the decorations he will begin to talk about his wife. He speaks of her as if she is alive and well. Ned says she is his "darling Valentine" and wants to order flowers and buy her candy. The staff have a hard time with redirecting him because it is not our practice to bring our residents to reality we are very creative with communication and do not want to say she is gone. It is wonderful to hear him talk about how much he loves her and how he would be treating her still today at Valentine's Day.....


Jessica Wilson

Happy Valentine's Day!

Here is a sweet Valentine's Day story from a member of the Lehigh Valley Chapter of the Direct Care Workers Association (all names have been changed to protect the client's rights):


May is a 96 year old woman living at my facility with Alzhiemer's. When asked about how she spent her Valentines Day throughout her life, she tells stories of baking heart cookies, making homemade chocolates and doing heart crafts with her "boys". She can only sometimes recall their names but in her stories they are always between 6 years old and 10 years old. Staff see her "boys" regularly, they are a very loving and close family. We share her stories with them and they usually confirm that what she is saying is true except, of course, their ages. May lives in that time frame of her life because, we believe, that is when she loved and felt loved the most. The staff around her remember at this Valentine season. It is the small things that fill your heart.

Pam Jago

Beginnings and Endings

Welcome to the first post of the Lehigh Valley Chapter of the PA Direct Care Workers Association blog!

Hello. My name is Danielle Frank. I’m a board member of the Pennsylvania Direct Care Workers Association, a founding member of the Lehigh Valley Chapter of the Direct Care Workers Association and I have worked in health care for the last 33 years.

Being a caregiver is a call for me. I have worked 17 years in hospitals and 16 years doing home care. (I like the home care better because I can give all my attention to my client).

My job is very rewarding to me. I know I can make a difference in the lives of my clients – some times my love and care is the only thing they have. In all my years of work, I have very good memories. But, being a Direct Care Worker is a job full of beginnings and endings. We meet new clients and we lose clients. Then, we start again with other clients. Each ending becomes a new beginning. And each time, it feels like a part of me goes with him or her. I have to thank my work in health care because it made me a much better warm and loving person. The strength that I have comes from my work.

As we begin this blog, I would like to share a wonderful ending memory that I have. My client was a wonderful, loving, still-young man that was terminal with lung cancer he got while working in a submarine with the Navy. We were introduced and his smile was contagious. His wife had been blinded by her diabetes several years earlier. She was cold and mean, but he never spoke to her without calling her, “dear.” Towards the end, I would say to myself, “Please God. Don’t let him die on my shift.”

One Saturday morning as I was leaving, I went to tell him that I would see him that night. He asked me to get near him and he gave me a kiss. He said, “God made you special. Remember, I will always be looking for you. I will be your guardian angel. Just look in the sky and I will be looking down on you.” I guess he knew he was close to dying. I couldn’t hold back my tears because I knew it too. I knew he was leaving me.

As I drove home, right after I left, he passed away. I got the phone call when I walked in the door. A week later, I received a nice letter with this poem:

God Bless the Caregiver

A caregiver’s life is marked by devotion
Her time is rarely her own.
Her days are a mix of every emotion,
And sometimes she feels so alone.

Her manner is gentle and ever-forgiving,
She knows all the right things to say.
Her presence inspires a “purpose for living,”
She has such a nurturing way.

A caregiver’s heart is full of compassion,
And it comes across in her deeds.
She demonstrates love and knows how to “fashion”
Sweet moments that everyone needs.

And if there’s a place where “good” is rewarded,
Where kindness and patience have worth,
You can be sure – the Lord has recorded,
All the joy that she’s spread on this earth!

I framed the poem and I look at it every day. I know he is watching over me and protecting me. My life is to be a caregiver and I’m so proud of it. I hope that you are proud too, because what you do is so important and valuable for the community. May this blog be the beginning of many wonderful things.