Follow Ben '09

Monday 4th May.

I go back to the Clubhouse.

I really had the big question answered already, on Friday afternoon when I came in first. When Leigh talked about the criteria for membership and said: 'You have to want to be here.' I poked a little further and she elaborated. Yes: the point of the Clubhouse is that it's about people who can consciously choose to attend, who know where they are and why they're there and what it is their aiming at. People who can't do these things (and there are plenty of them) won't do well - the Clubhouse isn't equipped for these people and doesn't suit them. Which is fine. It's good to know what it's about, to know that the model has a point and that that point is well defined. So. My visits will be about putting flesh on those bones and that's what I begin to do today. What I learn:

- The Main Street Clubhouse presently has 15 members.

- It has been open since 2001.

- 95% of its funding comes through the state.

- It's part of a larger organisation called Lake View Neurocare, which provide residential and inpatient rehabilitation for other groups with ABI including those from the military.

- This in turn is part of a broader network of services across Virginia including case management, transitional living, supported housing etc etc. It's a bit of a jumble for me still, but I will refine my grasp as I go.

Some fuzzy statistics also surface in conversation with Leigh today. At one point she mentions that VA has something like 7000 people with brain injury, which sounds very low to me (the population is 7,769,089 according to google). More alarmingly, she says that a recent estimate by the state costed a suggested programme for people with ABI, with 200 slots, at over $13million. I suppose this must be a life-time projection. But 200 people? $13million? I have to be distressed by this figure. My (political) agenda is predicated on the idea that services for people with disabilities should not be and don't have to be expensive, that people can and should be supported to do most of the work they need themselves and for each other. And this is what Clubhousing is about too. Although, as already established, a large section of the the BI population is excluded from the Clubhousing model as currently described (assuming the Cville branch is typical). The hypothetical millions are presumably ring-fenced for a population who aren't engaged in anything like this peer-support project.

Anna makes her way to the vending machines round the corner to collect the morning's newspaper. And safely back again. To get there you take a left out of the Clubhouse, and another left. No more than fifty yards. Sense of direction seems to be her big challenge. And crowds. Somebody suggests she show me where the post office is (this is another task - there's no post to go today, but it's good practice). Anna winces and puts a finger to her forehead. She can't remember if it's a left turn or a right turn to get there. She changes her mind a few times. She says it bothers her not to know which it is and I get the feeling she might rather avoid the trip. But she puts on her coat and we go for it. It's a right turn. Judy, the other staff member at the Clubhouse, points out the dark blue post bins about a hundred yards down on the other side of the street. Anna's nervous most of the way. She hasn't made this walk nearly as often, especially lately with the re-bricking going on. She pauses several times, sunglasses on, the rain spatting on her hood. 'I'm not confident about this,' she says. She does a good job and we get there and back with no problems, but I can see how her difficulties could be limiting. This is a big project from her and she gets a lot of encouragement from Leigh and Judy. From the sound of things, she is making real progress.

John and Leigh deal with the database. All the work is divided up carefully, broken down into subtasks and steps that the members can follow, with cues and procedures that keep you on track. Here John is entering the hours from last Friday - who came in at what time and when they left, which work team (kitchen, office) they were on for the day. John takes his time filling in the cells of the spreadsheet, methodically, but gets a little stuck at the end, unsure how to save his work. Leigh offers prompts from the other side of the room but something out of the ordinary is happening and she eventually steps in. Leigh explains that John has aspirations to get back into paid work. They have agreed that they will only support him in this goal once he can prove that he's able to make it in on time each day, to show he has the ability, in principle, to organise himself. The time sheets help test this. Realism seems to be a big thing here, and people aren't shy of a little confrontation. At the sink, John gets it in the neck from Anna when she thinks he's trying to barge in. She's getting more assertive, says Judy. 

Every time I step out of the front door of James' apartment I turn the wrong way. The stairwell is to the right (the brown double doors), but every single time I have so far turned to the left and walked towards the little hallway there. I have the same problem coming back in: opening the double doors I don't know which side the apartment is on. I can't explain it. I think about Anna and her lefts and rights.

James gives me an alarm clock. It doesn't work. You get what you pay for, he says.