Director’s column: Thankful for MMI’s impact

In a season of thanksgiving and reflection, I am so very thankful for the MMI community – the community that our providers create with the MMI families we serve and the community we create for the staff and students in our building. I am thankful for moments that remind us to pause and take stock of those around us, investing in the special people that find their way to us. I am thankful for the gift of time we can share together.

A couple weeks ago, after a long day of work, I stopped for dinner, hoping for a quiet moment before launching into my usual nighttime routine of laundry, meal prep, bedtime stories — and all the emails.

I was fortunate to sneak into a pair of empty seats at the counter. No sooner had I closed my menu when I watched an older gentleman make his way into the bar area, find my eyes and then the one open seat to my left. After he sat, we exchanged pleasantries, lamented the recent 60-degree shifts in weather, all those typical social niceties that paved the way for the mutually agreed upon end of the conversation. Yet, he continued, “So what do you do here in Omaha?”

For those of you that know me, I am an extrovert. Tonight, I wanted silence, and the thought of continued conversation felt exhausting. I am not sure what dissolved my conversational armor at that moment, but I set aside my shield and kissed my quiet dinner good-bye.

“I work with an incredible team … who work with autistic children and their families to assess and treat severe behavior problems and help families find durable treatments.”

I wasn’t prepared for his response.

“I have a 55-year-old daughter with autism,” he said. And in that moment, we formed a community of two with a most special connection. It was as if the room quieted, and he found space for sharing a secret he had kept close to his heart.

He became electric, telling about his then non-verbal 3-year-old daughter’s autism diagnosis, the five-minute evaluation with his pediatrician, the prognosis and push for institutionalization. This is a far too common and soul-crushing story I have heard from many parents. He talked of determination to find services for his daughter with any therapist, any discipline. “We didn’t know where to turn,” he said, “so we had to find our own path.”

He talked about the community that he and his wife fought hard to develop and cultivate. He choked down emotion as he described the therapists who dedicated hours to therapy, teaching language, enduring tantrums and frustrations. He spoke about the therapists with a fondness often reserved for family members or an old friend. Tom – as he later introduced himself – is now the parent of a 55-year-old daughter who lives in a group home and speaks two languages fluently. At the end of our dinner, Tom asked me to pass thanks onto my team for all that they do and will continue to do for families “just like his.”

Tom was a complete stranger. We shared an hour together at most. I got to hear his journey, relayed in an incredibly vulnerable and impactful story. His truth and tenacity were not lost on me.

I don’t know that we truly have the metrics to capture the impact of the special community formed between our families and the MMI staff who serve our patients. I am thankful we have the opportunity to be a part of our patients’ narratives. I am thankful that our therapists are now charting new chapters, dedicating countless hours to therapy, teaching language, enduring tantrums and frustrations. As a member of the Munroe-Meyer Institute, I am infinitely proud of what our staff and families accomplish on a daily basis. As a psychologist and scientist, I find it impossible to fully measure the impact that can occur in a day, a week or across an admission. We are a part of first words. First steps. First bites. First meals in a restaurant without being asked to leave. Morning routines that don’t end in tears. The tears. Attending a whole school day. The smiles at the splash pad. These are the things that I can take for granted. For our patients and families, these moments are life altering.

To our clinicians and staff – The Severe Behavior Squad, The Feeding Fam, iCASD Crew, Rec Therapy, OT, PT, Speech, Psychology and Behavioral Health and the many, many more who make these experiences possible – thank you for being part of this narrative and the many chapters to come.

Thank you for all you do each and every day, and I wish the very best Thanksgiving season to you and yours.

Amanda Zangrillo, PsyD, is an associate professor and department director of the Severe Behavior Program at the UNMC Munroe-Meyer Institute.