September - 1998

Intruduction by Jack Rosberg

 It is a pleasure to introduce the following, written by an undergraduate student, who spent two months at the foundation in an effort to gain a better understanding of this condition we call schizophrenia. She was good enough to share with me some of the misconceptions that came her way in her psychology classes at Princeton University. Sadly, this is true of most universities, wherein the professors of psychology have such a poor understanding of schizophrenia.

 Ms. Bastains' intelligence and sensitivity made it possible for her to gain a better understanding of the humaness that these unfortunate victims of this condition have, I daresay that she has gained more in two months than so many professionals gained in the course of their professionals lives. She was interested, and soon began to care enough to participate in the lives of these invididuals. I was dubious, initially, about accepting someone for such a brief amount of time, but I am grateful that I did. There are people of all ages who allow themselves to see this condition more clearly who prove to be helpful and productive and giving hope to these forgotten human beings.

Overcoming Preconceptions about Schizophrenia: My Personal Experience with the Residents of the Anne Sippi Clinic

 By Theresa M. Bastain

 As I approached the parking lot of the Anne Sippi Clinic on June 8, 1998, I was preoccupied with an assortment of emotions: excitement, intrigue, and even a little anxiety. It was to be the first day of my summer internship at the clinic and my first full day with persons afflicted with schizophrenia. I had learned of the clinic from its website and I believed that it would be an interesting and enlightening place to gain experience. I was unprepared for the vast quantity of knowledge that I would gain in the two months that I would spend at the clinic.

 Walking through the clinic doors, I thought to myself, whom will I meet? Will I connect with these people? Are these people really people or has this disorder wiped out all traces of their humanity? Can I be alone with these patients? How can I have a civilized conversation? As these questions pervaded my thoughts, I met with Jack Rosberg, the director of the Foundation at the clinic. After about fifteen minutes of discussion, my nerves were calmed and I was convinced that I just had to be myself. After observing the other interns interacting with the residents, I was much more comfortable talking independently with the residents.

 The residents seemed to take a particular interest in the new face around the clinic. One woman, Erica, constantly stared at me, almost challenging me to a staring contest. Although her gaze initially made me uneasy, it is of my opinion now that she liked me and tried to connect with me. Other residents also took notice of me and often discussed some of their grievances with me. After the conclusion of the first week, I felt that I was fairly well adjusted and ready to learn more about this fascinating population.

 For the past few months, interns have worked in a garden with the residents, growing vegetables, sunflowers, roses, and other foliage. The first week that I spent at the clinic, I met a man, Kent, who incessantly complained about getting his hands dirty. He refused to help us in the garden because he had such a busy schedule. He regularly moaned of his need to shower and shave, and he insisted that working in the garden would prevent him from having the necessary time to complete his daily tasks. However, as the weeks passed, Kent became less concerned about the urgency of his personal activities, and he became increasingly dependable. By the time of my departure, he became the hardest and most competent worker of all the residents in the clinic. Two weeks before I completed my internship, one of the other interns and I took Kent and a few other residents, who worked in the garden, to a movie of Kent's choice - a reward for their hard work.

 Another resident, Arturo, became one of my favorite residents. My initial impression of this man was that he was an isolated, antisocial human being that passed his time sitting on the hallway bench or pacing lifelessly up and down the halls. Nevertheless, as I would soon learn, there was a lot more life to this man than I had at first realized. On Wednesdays, we held an aerobics/dance class for the residents and Arturo happened to drift into the room one day. During this hour, I learned of Arturo's gifted ability as a dancer. Dancing seems to be Arturo's means of communicating his emotions, his feelings, and his humanity. The look on his face while he danced, the light in eyes'far exceeded my expectations of this once lifeless hallway sitter and pacer.

 Arturo's humanity became much more evident to me after this day during aerobics class. Another day during our lunch hour, I discovered that Arturo possessed other special qualities. Jack Rosberg, the Foundation's director, another intern, and I, as well as three other residents including Arturo, were eating our lunches. It was customary for the interns to eat with the residents, and as usual, we were laughing during a light discussion. One of the more vocal residents, Andrea, began to sing a lively tune, and we laughed and joined in the song. Arturo, silent during most of the conversation, asked Jack if he could sing a song. Arturo began to sing a perfect rendition of 'Always and Forever'his self-proclaimed favorite. Apparently, dancing and singing are Arturo's ways of communicating and showing his very distinct personality.

 After these incidents, I felt a growing interest and bond with Arturo, and I often sat next to him on 'his' bench. Sometimes he sang 'Always and Forever' and sometimes we just sat and talked about his hat collection. I invited Arturo to a music group in our recreation room, and he accepted. He asked me, 'Can I dance?' We spent the next hour dancing to and singing Elvis tunes. I learned a number of things about Arturo in the weeks that I interned at the Anne Sippi Clinic. He has fourteen hats. He loves chocolate ice cream. On a deeper level, Arturo is an individual'a person with real thoughts, likes and dislikes, feelings and emotions, and qualities which distinguish him from other residents and persons in society. It is much more obvious to me now that those diagnosed with schizophrenia often maintain real hopes, dreams, and emotions'characteristics that society is too ready to believe do not exist in these clients. It has been my experience that they do in fact hold onto much of the essence of that which makes us human - right down to the simplest desire for chocolate ice cream.

 The past eight weeks have shown me that compassion, caring, and encouragement can impact those afflicted with schizophrenia. Positive attention is likely to have caused Kent to desire to help in the garden. Spending time with Arturo showed me that his silence did not mean that he lacked human characteristics. Rather, his humanity has been hidden by what society and the medical

 professions have coined, schizophrenia. By dancing with Arturo, and gardening with Kent, I have learned that therapy can be more than sitting in an office answering questions posed by a therapist. It can be unconventional like gardening or dancing; reading a magazine with a client; discussing the change in weather; sitting under a tree talking about goals and aspirations; or quietly sharing a laugh. The words are not always important with this population; bridging contact makes the difference.

 I have had the opportunity to witness Jack Rosberg's form of therapy, Direct Confrontation Therapy, both on videotape and in person. One particular day in Jack's office, I saw his therapy process in action. Erica, the resident who held staring contests with me, delusionally believed someone sold pictures of her to a magazine and had made money from her portraits without her consent. Erica sat in Jack's office demanding that he give her the magazine in her half gibberish language. He yelled back at her to stop her craziness and to stop her nonsense. He proceeded to tell her to hold a masquerade style porcelain mask in front of her face for five minutes until her craziness subsided. After about three minutes, Jack told her to take away the mask and asked her if she was ready to behave appropriately. She nodded yes; apparently, the delusionary thoughts were over. She politely asked if she could go to the restroom. Something unconventional, an almost crazy act in itself, seemingly cured her false belief.

 As I walked down the hallway and out of the doors of the Anne Sippi Clinic for the final time, I realized that my definition'my textbook definition'of schizophrenia had changed dramatically. I no longer believe that all cases are the same, that the clinical definition is all-inclusive, or that this disorder has completely stripped each person of his/her humanity. I do not underestimate the depth or seriousness of the illness, but I do not believe it is an illness void of hope or of small successes.

 In September, I will be entering my final undergraduate year at Princeton University. Although I am a psychology major, it has become apparent that the experience of working with these patients has taught me much more than any textbook, discussion, or videotape can accomplish. The experience of working with this population has taught me that, like Erica, they are humans hidden behind masks, and with the right approach and compassion, their true faces can be revealed.