#2 of 64

This one is pretty straightforward: The meaning behind your blog name.

Well folks, I blog about work and I used to wear scrubs and crocs to work. Hence the blog name. Now I wear scrubs and New Balance sneakers, but that's not quite as catchy plus I don't want to change my blog address.

So there you have it.

And the crocs I used to wear (due to white-only shoes rule) were hideous! Like this:

Watch out for WOLFS

It's been another weird weekend over at the hospital, y'all. As I've probably mentioned on here before, weekends are the time when all my nice, normal, elective joint replacement patients are not there. So weekends are when I am either floated to another unit or I stay on my own unit but we get atypical patients there (OB-GYN issues, medical problems that don't involve bones, etc.)

Last night I got sent to another unit to do a one-on-one with a very large, schizophrenic patient with a history of methamphetamine use. I'll just let that sink in for a few minutes, shall I?

I spent 8 hours in a hospital room alone with someone who, on paper at least, I would normally sprint away from.

And boy, was it an unusual night.

As I soon discovered, my patient had quite a fascination with "wild animals". Since my patient was a little edgy, I took this person on about eighteen million walks around the floor to try to burn off some nervous energy, toting along the IV pole with us each time. On one of these jaunts, a framed poster of a baby animal that looked like some sort of canine caught my new friend's eye.

"Oh, is that a hyena? Look at him! He's so nice and symmetrical. I've never seen a hyena. One time I saw a wild animal that was like a bobcat or a wildcat or a mountain cat. I saw it walk by the window here too [note; we were NOT on a ground floor level]. One time I saw an Orca whale in a lake. They don't usually live in lakes, so I took a picture of it."

This proved to be a fruitful topic, so my patient thoughtfully provided me with more tidbits throughout the evening:
"If you were by the woods you might get picked off by a wild animal. Like some wolfs. Or mountain bobcats. You should really be careful. If a wild wolf comes out of the woods, you give it a cookie. If it takes the cookie, it'll just, like, go back into the woods. If it doesn't take the cookie, point to the lake. It'll go jump in the lake. I saw that happen but then the bobcat got eaten by an orca whale. In the lake. The whale just ate it all up. It was weird."

My patient had the flattest affect during all this, and consistently called wolves "wolfs" very clearly. I checked in with a nurse at one point to find out if perhaps this person was messing with me, and nope, the nurse said this patient was a bit of a 'frequent flyer' and advised me not to laugh at any advice or stories the patient told me.

We made it all through my shift just fine. Then tonight, in the cafeteria, I saw another CNA who works that unit. She said that my wild-animal-expert patient was pacing the floor, ranting, and attempting to get dressed in all sorts of things because the patient believed it was time to leave.

WHEW! I dodged a bullet there, didn't I? So glad I got floated last night instead of tonight!

Two Days Left

I've only got two regular days left at the GreatRep, and then my orientation at the hospital on Monday and Tuesday. I'm planning to still work one day a week at the GreatRep, because they'd like me to and I could use the extra income. Today I was looking at my residents and thinking about how much I'll miss some of them.

And then a call light went of because Mr.UberCombative (the one who Darth Vader choked a nurse) was attacking two CNA's with a full size floor lamp and they'd locked themselves in the bathroom to get away from him then hit the call light for rescue. And then while I helped the remaining CNA from that wing hunt down our charge nurse (he ended up grabbing the DON and the Administrator to deal with that fun situation) I found the charge nurse, who pulled me into another bathroom to help hold up a 103 year old woman while she digitally disimpacted her and avoided her resulting mule kicks as she screamed "That was HURT!" at us all. Poor baby, I bet it really, really did! She was waaaaaaay backed up.

And then I hustled my butt over to where I was originally supposed to be doing what I was originally supposed to be doing (helping the less able residents drink their ensures for snacktime).

Whew.

I don't expect the hospital to be a cakewalk. But I do expect to be assaulted a lot less regularly.

Cross your fingers for that, anyways!

A few minutes after all this, I saw our maintenance man walking down the hall, having confiscated said floor lamp. He looked PISSED. I wonder if he has a special room where all the furniture that's been used as weapons goes for "time out" the way I used to put toys that the kids were fighting over in "time out" for a while to let them all calm down?

Yeah Buddies!

I got my first Chem exam back, and scored an A-. I'm thrilled by this! The first two chapters, what the test was on, involved me relearning all the algebra I'd forgotten since high school. Plus all the regular chemistry topics we were all learning in the class.

Now that we're past that part, the following chapter on naming compounds, Lewis diagrams, and predicting molecular geometry are way, way easier.

Plus my lab partner is really nice; she's a CNA also, and works at a skilled nursing facility. We were swapping stories about the weird residents and the most horrifying post mortem cares we've done, and it's great because we're both 'returning students' (she's in her thirties) so we're both actually motivated to do well in the class because we've got other stuff to do besides goof off.

Work today was sucky.

One of the CNA's that's been at the GreatRep for a few years was fired this week for getting into altercation with a resident. WTF? I haven't heard any details, so I don't know if she just snapped, but the resident she was yelling at is very compliant and nonverbal, and never combative. Not like it's ever okay to really yell at someone you're supposed to be caring for, but if that person had, say, slapped you across the face with their wet brief and then spat on you, one might understand raising your voice a smidgen more than your heart tells you is right. But I can't imagine that anything like that had happened, given who was involved in this. Bizarre.

And yes, the brief-slapping thing is real and did really happen. Not to me, thank goodness. But the resident who did it is alive and kicking. And told me last week that she would like to "shoot [me] with a gun and make a beautiful mess out of [me]". I just sighed and rolled my eyes. That's her horrible, horrible baseline.

I cheer myself up by talking to the adorable little lady who asks for cocoa by calling it "kokomoko". So cute!

Ding Dong, the Witch is Dead

This is in very poor taste, but remember the guy who was threatening to come to my facility and kill his wife (and anyone who got in his way) and then himself?

He's dead!

He had a heart attack. Not that surprising since he kept checking himself out of the hospital AMA in order to go back home and threaten his wife and family and us some more.

I know, he was probably once a nice guy, and obviously was suffering from some kind of mental illness. But he refused help over and over again. And I think it's fine that I want someone off this planet that is wanting to come and shoot one of my demented little old ladies.

And now he is. I'm not sorry. It's a huge relief not to have that hanging over my head at work anymore.

Not a 9/11 post

I don't have anything special to say about 9/11 except that death really really sucks. I feel terrible for people who lost their families on that day, just as I feel terrible for the resident at work who's slowly dying from a series of strokes. She had another one today, vomiting beforehand even though I'd given her an anti-nausea drug by mouth before dinner, and the nurse had given her an anti-nausea suppository after the first time she threw up. She vomited a few more times, and then there was that telltale lean, the inability to control half of her body. A different half than last time. And she was so baffled about what was happening to her, and how could she get to feel better, and there isn't any answer.

This woman is a sweet lady with a devoted family.

And it makes me sad, trying to brush her teeth after she vomits and she cannot control half of her mouth while I do it. And it makes me sad, listening to her struggle to slur out that yes, she wants her daughter to come see her now.

Maybe it's easier for religious people once someone is actually dead - they usually say they're "in a good place now". But I don't know if watching the slow, steady decline is easier with a God around or not. I don't know if anything could make that easier; it's just so, so sad sometimes. And sometimes it's not, and I can't make reason of why sometimes it really gets to me and sometimes it doesn't.

If I do end up getting that hospital job, I'll be hoping that having patients for such a short period of time makes it harder to get very attached to them. A lot of the people I take care of now, I've seen nearly every day for about a year now.

And just to top off my bad mood, I got bitten right before the end of my shift, trying to scoop some non-food stuff out of a resident's mouth that she was trying to eat. I knew (obviously) that it was likely I'd get bitten, but I didn't want her to choke or get sick from this. I really hate getting bitten.

So that's my important thoughts for the day: I hate death sometimes and I hate getting bitten all the time. My sympathies for all of you that are dealing with either one.

In over my head

This has been a tough, tough week over at the GreatRep. We got a new admit, and he arrived under less-than-ideal circumstances; his daughter, the primary caregiver, was out of town. His wife brought him in and dropped him off, not wanting to visit because he'd been hurting her whenever she tried to toilet him. He had orders for meds, but had been refusing all of them.

So he comes from living at home with his wife to us, a decent-sized facility (around 65-70 beds) where we expect him to take his meds, use the toilet, and not hit us.

None of that happened. We quickly realized, after he had one of our charge nurses pinned up against the wall, choking her and lifting her off her feet, that he was going to require at least 3 people to change him out of his soiled clothes when he was incontinent.



In a hospital setting, or a psych ward, when a patient does something like that, you can medicate that person by any means necessary. In our assisted living facility, they must agree to take their meds orally (unless they have an order indicating otherwise, which this guy does not).

Things seemed to be calming down a bit after that, and he even cooperated with care in the evening one time, after the nurses began putting his evening meds in his desserts so he would actually take them in.

Then, randomly, on day shift, he punched a female caregiver in the face, and then in the back of the head when she tried to run away. Knocked her down, cut up the inside of her mouth from her teeth. She didn't quite black out and yelled for help, dragging herself to the door. It was awful. If I were in charge, that would have been the point where I'd have sent this guy on his merry way to the hospital with police there to assist the medics during pickup.

Instead, they updated his care plan to require and assist of 2+ people with all care and implemented more behavioral meds.

I was livid.

We had a meeting, and the DON was able to state her case and change our minds, even mine. I swear that woman is tricky as all get out. Plus she personally had been doing his care all day long by herself and will continue to do so, which gained her a lot of respect from the rest of us.

She laid out a specific, comprehensive plan to help him acclimate to our setting, and promised that we are NOT expected to stay in a situation where he'll hurt us, and if that means something doesn't get done, then so be it. I also understand that a gero-psych eval is not out of the question if we're not able to resolve the combativeness in our setting. Okay. Stressful, scary, unfortunate, but okay.

Then the bad news kept coming; another new(ish) resident of ours, "Linda" has a husband who lives independently but within walking distance of our facility. And he's telling anyone who'll listen that his plan is to come to our facility, shoot his wife, and then shoot himself.

This is about the time when I seriously considered just getting up from this meeting and going home.

Apparently Mr. Murderer may or may not be hospitalized right now, but of course he can go home, and then to our place, at any time. The good news is, he can't figure out how to use the keycode to enter the building, even though from the outside, the code is posted right above the keypad. So that gives us a grace period in which to see that he's the one knocking on the door trying to get in and call 911. Unless another visitor is being helpful and just lets him in.

Working in dementia, there's a certain amount of "I'm tough" attitude that comes with the territory - we deal with people who get combative for no good reason. That's just how it is. And usually the benefits outweigh the occasional injuries.

But this week has been so screwed up I didn't want to go back to that place. I don't want to be punched and knocked out, or choked, or shot. And I feel about 88% sure that I won't be. Which isn't really sure enough to make me happy about going to work again on Friday. Ugh.

Oh, yeah, you're so special.

Right after I go on about how happy and pleasant I am, here I am hopping on my computer to rant about a new employee at the GreatRep. Already, I'm a little iffy about the activities department. You might remember a while back about how I had a run-in with a homophobic employee who used hand gestures to demonstrate how she thought gay sex "doesn't work" and that the best she can hope for the gays is to "hate the sin but love the sinner"? And you might remember how I went over this person's head and discussed it with her bosses, who let her know that it will never, ever happen again. Ever.



Anyway, said idiot is in charge of the activities department and has hired some real winners in the past. Looks like she's done it again. She hired a delicate flower named "Daisy" who is home on summer break from college. Daisy's aunt has volunteered at the GreatRep for years and wants her to work at the GreatRep for a month to get "life experience". Daisy is one of those people I just want to throttle. Why? Because I hate it when people say they can't work with elderly, sick or disabled people because it's sooooooooo sad. Screw that.

What, you're so terribly amazingly compassionate that you can't find it within yourself to do anything to help these people that your heart is bleeding buckets for? You're so fragile and sensitive that your feelings of boo-hooing are more important than doing your damn job? BS.

If you don't want to work in dementia because it's hard, underpaid, involves bodily fluids and very rude people, or it's just plain not your thing? That's FINE. But don't insult all the residents and employees by saying that you're somehow too compassionate to do this job.

It makes it sound like you think the only way the rest of us could be doing this work is by not caring at all. And that's not the case. It makes it sound like you think being old, sick, or disabled is the worst thing in the world and they have no quality of life and should all just die, apparently, because what do they have to live for and why would anyone spend their time helping them live?

And to top it all off, Daisy confesses that she's "terrified" of this place, after watching a caregiver transfer someone with a sit-to-stand. Really? You find moving someone from one chair to another terrifying? Stay far away from children's birthday parties, then. They might play musical chairs, and you'll have an aneurysm.

Daisy, I hope you don't even last the one month you're slated to be here. You're disrespectful of everyone in that building and you just don't get it and if you come up to me looking like someone had a stroke and is dying and then all you want is to say tremulously "Ummm... Millie says... she needs to use the bathroom??" I might have to slap you.

I hope you're going to college for something with no human interaction necessary.

Phoned it in, in a positive sense

Yep, that's right, I called Child Protective Services about my ex-coworker Calliope. They do prefer that you be able to give them your name and number, and the names/ages of the children you're calling about, as well as the parents' names and address. Luckily for me (as an abuse reporter, not as a taxpayer) Calliope's family is on "medical assistance" (ie her husband's on disability) so the person I spoke with was able to pull up her address easily. Since I haven't witnessed any direct child abuse, all I could report is that she is clearly a meth addict, and I know for 100% certain that she drives while intoxicated, both with and without her kids in the car.

As the case worker I talked to said, that's not enough for them to go and investigate the family. However, when something else inevitably happens, this will go a long way toward building a case for intervention. No one can be an adequate parent and a meth addict at the same time. I'm just so sorry for those kids that they have to wait for someone else to call it in again. I hope their teachers are being alert for signs of abuse and neglect.

As a reminder, if you have any reason to suspect child abuse or neglect in any kids you encounter, a national number is 1-800-4-A-Child and you can easily find the local numbers with google. If you're wrong, nothing bad will happen. No one goes and snatches kids away for no reason; they don't have the resources for that, for one thing. At worst, they'll do a check-in and find that everything's okay, and the family will be puzzled. At best, they'll do a check-in, find that things are not okay, and those kids will get the help they need.

The current trend with child welfare services is toward "family preservation". The goal is to give malfunctioning families support services (counseling, food stamps, respite care, medical care, etc.) in order to rehabilitate them and get them to be a decent place for their children to live. Even the agency I used to work at (theraputic group home for teen boys with multiple failed foster care placements) provides preservation counseling/coaching. It's pretty cool. Especially with the lack of people who want to foster parent. It's hopefully easier to fix the parents that already exist than to find new ones.

I guess we'll know in a few more years after the next batch of longitudinal studies come out.

In the meantime, screw you, Calliope. I hope your kids have other caring adults in their lives.

And then my night went off the rails...

I was all set for work today; I went to bed early last night and slept in late today, so I was finally rested for the first time in days. I showered, did my hair, watched the news.

And then I got to work and one of the two coworkers I was sharing the wing of the facility with was clearly high out of her damn mind. Ugh. She's been showing symptoms of drug use for a while now, and one of our charge nurses has been trying to figure out how to get her in for a drug test. This coworker, "Calliope" (her real first name is weird too) is always screwy after our paydays, then exhausted in between them.

Today it was just beyond obvious. A few of our more alert residents asked what was wrong with her, even. She was twitching, scratching, chewing on her lips, forgetting what she was doing mid-action, dropping things, smelled like burning ass and hair, and then to top it all off she fell asleep at the table when she was supposed to be feeding a resident. Dude. That's horrible. Let's pause to think about that and take a look at some faces of meth, shall we?







So my poor charge nurse got the honors of being the one to say "Hey, you need to leave right now. Don't come back until you have a clean UA. Here's the paperwork for that." Chances of that ever happening? Very, very slim. I'd be kind of surprised if she ever shows up at the facility again. But you never know. I think we should have taken her keys, but whatever.

So then after all that delightful excitement, me and my remaining sober coworker had 3.5 hours to give 5 showers and put 30 people to bed. Awesome. Thanks to other sober coworkers from the other wing who hurried over to help, we got it done.

And I'll be coming in to cover Calliope's shift tomorrow, I'm sure.

Here's the part where I need advice, dear readers: I want to call child protective services, because Calliope has three kiddos under the age of six. And it's not their fault that their Mom is a mess. Another sober coworker lives in the same neighborhood as Calliope and has seen her husband out and about, and reports that he seems to have a drug problem too. I don't have Calliope's home address or recall her children's names. I miiiiiiiight be able to get that from work, though probably not without breaking some rules. Which would be worth it, because there's no freaking way that these people are decent parents.

What info do I need to have before I call CPS? Is there another agency/route I should try instead or along with this?

Tell me, what have you all done in that kind of situation?

In Which I Get Judgemental

You know those things you think about people but you aren't supposed to say because it's mean/prejudiced/snotty etc.? That's what this is about.

I recently trained a new employee at the GreatRep, who seemed nice. She's CNA certified but hasn't worked as one before. However she was working as a caregiver at a group home for developmentally disabled adults. Lower volume/patient load than what we do at the GreatRep, but same basic principles plus she's been through the CNA course so she should already know the essentials from that. Seems like a reasonably good hire, is polite, reads and writes English well.

The first red flag for me was when she mentioned something about her home life; that she had been traveling around the world or something for a few years (the first few years of her son's life) and then finally came back because she fell in love with her high school non-sweetheart, and now they're engaged and living with her son's Father. Huh. I generally think one needs a pretty good reason not to be around for their child's first few years of life, and wanderlust doesn't really count in my book.

The second one was that she was complaining about her job at the group home and how the stress of combative residents there was triggering her PTSD (acquired when she was younger, not through serving in the armed forces but ostensibly by having an effed up childhood). Uh-oh. Our residents get combative, and even though they're mostly old ladies, they can be a little scary at times. Would this be a good fit for her?

Answer: nope. Apparently even though she quit her job at the group home and now only works part-time at the GreatRep, she was STILL calling off frequently, wanting to go home early, etc. That's such BULL! Our jobs are hard but do-able when we're fully staffed. Leaving your coworkers short-staffed for no good reason is totally rude and shady.

Then the other night she insisted she had such a bad back injury that she had to go home. Seriously? Even though you were sitting there talking to me like everything was fine and bustling around preparing your dinner? I don't buy it. I think that this girl has a crazy family and that made her crazy, and then she hasn't bucked up and gotten un-crazy. Which sucks, because she's a parent now. And instead of growing up and holding down a job, she is hoping to get disability or something after working part time for a few weeks. Ugh.

I know it's not kind to assume people are going to suck if they tell you they had a bad childhood or whatever, but here's the thing: if they've gotten over it enough to function well? They won't tell you right away. They'll be aware that doing so is inappropriate. People can come from chaos and turn out wonderfully, but those are the people you're surprised to find out were raised so horribly. The ones where you go "Oh, that all makes sense" are the ones who need to get their butts into therapy and figure their crap out.

Or at least not come work with me. Sheesh.

Day 26: What Kind of Person Attracts You

I like people that are funny, silly, strong-willed, and knowledgeable. I quickly lose respect for anyone who's too much of a pansy or shows absolutely no interest in learning new things. And while I can like and enjoy someone without much of a sense of humor, I'd rather be around people that crack me up. It's also important to me that people I'm close to have a strong sense of right and wrong, and act accordingly.

This is a timely topic for me because I've been having conflict with a couple of my coworkers this month, which is new for me. One told me I'd hurt her feelings and the other told me to stop intimidating her. Crap. Obviously, it's time for me to work on my communication skills! I talked it over with Mr. Polly and practiced some better strategies.

Just to clarify, the two ladies I've had trouble with do tend to be tempermental, and the one who said to stop intimidating her speaks English as a second language. I hope she meant to say stop trying to tell her what to do, which would have made a lot more sense, given the misunderstanding that we had.

I'm not a total bitch at work (or anywhere else) as far as I know. Don't be scared to talk to me, people! I felt really awful about this and am working on it. But I do really prefer to hang out with and work with people that can take directness without getting upset. It's such a time-saver.

Too bad we don't get to choose our coworkers. I'm comforting myself with the knowledge that I can learn to talk to these ladies in a way they'll understand and that 75% of my coworkers tell me how delighted they are when we're assigned to the same wing/that they miss me when we're not.

Whew.

Day 21: One of Your Favorite Shows

I thought about writing about Scrubs for this, but a) I write about it all too often (and post clips to illustrate medical conditions, ha ha) and b) I've only seen it up through season 5.

So instead, let's take on one of my other favorites: Top Chef. I love all the Top Chef seasons, including Top Chef Masters and Top Chef: Just Desserts. It probably seems a little ridiculous that I'd like that show so much given that I'm vegan and would never make or eat 99% of the food that they do on it, even though they put the recipes online. Although they did have a vegan challenge episode where they had to cook for Zooey and Emily Deschanel!!! They must be some of the most adorable vegan sisters ever in life. Look at them!

and p.s. It was on Top Chef Masters and one of the "Master" chefs got sent home because his brilliant idea for dessert was to take rice milk ice cream and mix some strawberries into it. I mean, really? Sheesh. Here's a link to a blogpost by someone else with more info about that one:
Top Chef Masters: Vegan Challenge!

But even when I wouldn't eat what they're making, I love watching how they do it. I like the knife skills challenges, and am much faster at chopping my own veggies after seeing how the pros do it. I get lots of ideas from them about different dishes I could make or modify to make vegan. And I love seeing the really fancypants ones like Richard Blaze who uses liquid nitrogen on everything possible.

I also get a kick out of the judges, and I think Padma Lakshmi is so pretty it should be criminal. I think Anthony Bourdain is very funny, and I also watch his travel show and read his novels.

So yep, Top Chef. Watch it with me, buddies. It's almost the end of the Top Chef: All Stars season right now. Spike Mendelson went home a while ago, but I do have his burgers & milkshakes cookbook and I make things for Mr. Polly from it for holidays and I give him "A Spike Meal" coupon for a gift sometimes. So I've made several of Spike's burgers and shakes, and they've been a big hit so far.

Ugh, now I'm hungry. Time to go cook my last artichoke - that is seriously one of my favorite after-work meals. I loooooooooove artichokes!

Day 04: My Thoughts On Religion.

I wasn't raised with any particular religion, and now I consider myself an atheist.

If I were going to be a part of any organized religion, I think it would be Islam. I like the 5 pillars of that faith, and I like that their beliefs are their laws. It's consistent and thorough, so you know what is expected of you and I like that clarity. I don't think it's inherently misogynist any more than any other religion - I don't think any religion was founded with the intention to oppress anyone, because it's unimaginable that any God would want that.

I also think the daily calls to prayer are very appropriate and beautiful; if you have a faith, why wouldn't you want to set time aside every single day to tap into it?

The 5 Pillars of Islam (as understood by atheist Polly) are:

1. Faith. Specifically that "There is none worthy of worship except God and Muhammad is the messenger of God." Hard to be confused by that, right? So as long as you follow the teachings of Muhammad, you are living the way God intended.

2. Prayer. 5 times a day. Prayer isn't led by a priest, because there isn't that type of hierarchy in Islam. Prayer can be done alone or with others. When you pray, you're communing directly with God. If you believe in God, I bet that feels good, and it must be a refreshing and heartening pause throughout your day to tap into that. I'd imagine it would also keep you humble and keep you thinking about your priorities and your behavior throughout the day. If I were Muslim and prayed 5 times a day, I'd hope that after each one, I'd be mindful of whether or not I was acting and living the way God wanted me to.

3. Zakah. Charity. Not optional, this is an obligation for every Muslim. It doesn't have to be financial charity if you aren't able to do that, but it means that you have the responsibility of somehow helping your community. I think it would be great if all of us felt this; I know I could use a huge shove in that direction, because I get so busy in the day-to-day stuff that I don't think about it often. That's not good.

4. Fasting. During Ramadan, everyone fasts (unless they are very old, sick, etc.) Again, I think this would be a very useful tool for turning one's focus to God. It's choosing to do something uncomfortable, and remembering why you made that choice all day long. I wonder what that would feel like, and I like the idea of giving something up, not because God thinks it's bad for you but to show God that you're thinking about him/her.

5. Pilgramage. Going to Mecca. I honestly cannot imagine what this must be like, to be able to go somewhere that significant to you and to be surrounded by others that feel the same way. Maybe it's the closest thing to going to Heaven?

Anyway, it probably seems weird that I've thought about Islam that much. I don't know why, it's just the religion I've learned about that resonates with me the most. But I still don't believe in any God. That doesn't mean I don't try to be kind or compassionate, or that I don't respect other people's beliefs. I do. I just feel like, well, that's all a little over my head and I'm just here trying to do the best I can. If a God wants my attention, it can find me. I'll be hanging out trying to help people and have a good life myself.

The Tattletale Diaries

Sometimes, in Long Term Care, there's drama among employees. Shocker, right? I generally stay out of it, which has been particularly easy with how often I've changed jobs over the past year. The only one that's been constant was the HomeCare Agency and I worked solo there, only seeing other employees if we were doing a shift change or at the occasional meeting.

I'm also a firm believer in handling minor conflicts myself. It's really not that hard to say "hey, that bothered me" or "In the future can you please ..." to a coworker. It's a little harder to say to a supervisor.

Up until today I had only reported one other employee at any of these jobs; at the Crapdorable place, one of the caregivers was so rough with the residents that they would hold off on using the bathroom or going to bed until shift change so that they wouldn't have to be handled by him. Many of them told me this, more than once. So obviously, I reported him. And felt no unsureness doing so - I'd also have happily told him to his face, and did jump in to stop him once when I observed it firsthand.

So when, yesterday, one of the Department Heads interrupted an activity with our residents and started talking badly about gay people in front of everyone I had a problem with it. And I let her know, right then and there. And she wasn't deterred. Seriously, this woman STOPPED AN ACTIVITY for the old people and started talking about the repeal of Don't Ask Don't Tell. And how servicemen and women shouldn't have to shower with gays. And that gay sex "doesn't work" (illustrated with hand gestures). And that at best, she could "love the sinner but hate the sin".

My responses, for the record were, 1. If the most uncomfortable thing a soldier has to deal with DURING A WAR is showering with someone else, he is doing very well indeed. They know they're signing up for all sorts of horrific things, and if anyone is willing to do so, they should be able to. 2. Ew, that's gross, please stop with the gestures. 3. Oh . . . kaaaaaay?

It was astoundingly inappropriate and uncomfortable. And it was all in front of the people we're there to take care of. And she only stopped when, finally, the charge nurse came into the room and changed the subject.

So, since me cutting her off with "I have several gay family members and don't like hearing that stuff" at the beginning of her rant didn't work, I went over her head today. And was nervous about it.

And it went really, really well. I talked to my Director of Nursing, who asked me some questions about it (and sounded genuinely shocked that all this happened in front of the residents) and asked me to give her a little written statement, and promised she and the other Boss Lady would handle it. And to let her know if I catch any flak for this from the Homophobic Dept. Head.

Hooray!

I'm so relieved. I do really like working there (really enjoy almost all my coworkers and the residents I care for) and was super disappointed by this. But as long as it gets fixed, I can keep being happy where I work and proud of the place where I do it.

Confessions

One of my bigger peeves about working in Long Term Care is that my coworkers tend to be unreliable as far as showing up for shifts on time. Or at all. In general, I don't call in unless I absolutely have to, because I know how much it sucks to be the one that shows up when no one else does. The workload doesn't decrease just because the workforce has; the same number of residents still need the same amount of care that they do every day, no matter how many hands there are to give it to them.

Which is why, just yesterday, I was smugly thinking to myself how glad I was I'd made it in during the snow we recently had, and that I should pick out something fun to get for myself with my "perfect attendance" monthly bonus that I'm sure to get.

And then I fell down my damn stairs on the way out the door this morning at 5:45 am. And landed on wet, cold concrete. I dragged myself back into my apartment, intending to put on dry scrubs and head right back out the door, until the pain hit me and I realized that 8 hours of walking, lifting, and standing were probably not going to make my knee and hip feel any better.

So I sucked up the embarrassment and picked up the phone, and called, teling the charge nurse what had happened and that I wasn't going to make it today, but would do whatever I needed to in order to be there tomorrow. And me and my ice pack hit the couch and took a 4 hour nap.

And here's the confession part: It was awesome.

I'm only mildly sore and bruised-up now, which makes me think maybe I should have gone ahead and toughed it out.

But an unexpected day off like this is actually really, really nice. Oops. Guess I should remember this next time I'm cursing my "slacker" coworkers who don't show up. Turns out I've got a slacker side too, it just took a wet stairway and gravity to show it to me.