Gretchen Swanson, Editor

Gretchen resides one-half mile from the Pacific Ocean in Long Beach, California. After running a national consulting firm for 20 years and then exploring several years of "I always wanted to do that" now has developed a portfolio of community based actions. Over time she plans to share other tidbits from her past and more importantly her hopes for the future.

June, 2012 - I've just completed a year of full-time clinical position at a 5-star rehab hospital just 10 blocks from my home. My goal was to work locally. I'm glad that I committed myself to this experience. I've gotten to know great clinicians and meet patients who've motivated themselves over physical and psychological hurdles. But now my time is done and I'm back out roving around seeing people at their homes, within their community centers. Maybe you'll come to one of my presentations on the topics of fall and other strategic preventive strategies around the city of Long Beach.
March, 2011 - I've avoided the usual CV/Resume/List of all things conquered approach to my history. I think events along the way might be more illuminating.  My first job as a physical therapist was at one of the country's oldest mental health institutions. Built in the 1840's in upstate New York. One hundred thirty years later had never had a physical therapist until I was hired. New grad, lunatic asylum, hundreds of patients sounds like a great place to start an adventure.
Looking at Utica State Hospital makes one think of those period BBC shows filled with wind and tragedy. Not one to be daunted with overwhelming odds I concluded the following: there was only one direction I could go (i.e. up), the patients could only get better, and I'd never forget the experience.  I found there were several people who'd been admitted never to be discharged not because of profound mental health needs, but because of physical impairments - not yet resolved. So I spent many hours and months helping properly place long term residents (with their wholehearted approval) into more appropriate settings.  I found the other employees scary. I admit it. They held the keys, the medications and the power and yes, it was like "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest". But I was not a Joan of Arc. There were those who provided disinterest and disgust. With just two exceptions all the physicians were foreign born, foreign trained in other than psychiatry. And for the most part, they were short, short men. And I was not.