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.

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.

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?

How To Make Polly Mad

Here's some useful tips brought to you by people I dealt with today. Many were really good at pissing me off, so let's all learn from their expertise:

1. Management
Got a daycare resident with a very annoying specific fixation on another resident who gets combative and will kick doors for hours when you try to redirect him so he doesn't get punched by the object of his obsession? Move him in! Make sure not to have a plan in place to prevent problems so the whole joint can come to a grinding halt thanks to one person. Bonus points if they don't have orders for Ativan!

2. Coworkers
Keep saying "sorry!" and then grabbing my back and muffin top while I'm crouched down trying to put someone's stiff, heavy legs onto their wheelchair footrests. Not at all annoying go me or dangerous for my fingers. How did you know I was dying to be groped by a woman 15 years my senior at 0715? My favorite morning activity! And yes, please put your sweaty head on me while I parcel out meds and ask "is it time to go home yet?" over and over.

3. Residents
Keep pretending to be nearly deaf so you think you have an excuse to scream at me and everyone else. We'll never figure it out when you magically hear your name said in a normal tone of voice 10 feet away. I love having you grab my arm, drag my poor head near yours, and having you yell "WHAT?!? SAY IT SO I CAN HEAR YA FOR GOD'S SAKE!!" over and over.

The Opposite of the Tooth Fairy

One of the things I was really excited about when I got my job at the GreatRep was that (although I don't have health insurance) I get dental insurance! I used to love going to the dentist when I was a kid and never had a cavity.

So I happily made an appointment for the first time in 8 or 9 years. Woohoo, I thought! I'll get a cleaning and be on my way. Plus the dentist I picked is kind of gimmicky and they give you a paraffin wax hand treatment and free tooth whitening if you're a new patient with them. It'd be nice! Like going to get a haircut, right?

I was wrong. So wrong.

They did x-rays, and then said I had 5 cavities. Oh no. I got scared.

Then they said they could fix all 4 little ones right then and there, and I wouldn't even need to be numbed. I relaxed and thought okay, this must not be any big deal.

Then I found myself with my jaw jacked open wide by a plastic tubey mouthguard that was sucking up all my spit, fighting off panic as the dentist drilled into my teeth and it smelled like something was burning and my only means of communication was to raise one of my stupid flippered hands (still sandwiched into giant oven mitt thingies because of the stupid paraffin wax). Raise my left hand if I'm not okay? OW! I wanted to raise my left middle finger.

Anyway, I got the damn slippers off my hands so I could at least give a thumbs up or down, and got some numbing something to help me make it through the end of Fire And Brimstone In My Mouth.

My God, no wonder people hate going to the dentist! I never understood until now. But I have to go back 2 more times this month. And get the muscle inside my mouth (the one that's just below where a labret piercing would go) cut and cauterized. Oh shoot. This is not the way I remember trips to the dentist, people. Everyone now has my sympathy. Everyone with and without teeth, bless your hearts, every single one of you.

And here's a visual of the labret piercing. Not mine, I don't have one. All I have is an about-to-be-slaughtered muscle behind there. Crap.

Maybe I can give the dentist one. With a dull needle.

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.

30 Days of Blog Topics

Just like Estelle Darling at www.brfirefly.blogspot.com I thought this 30 day blog challenge looked fun:



I'm not promising to cover all of these, but we'll see how it goes. It's always nice to have something besides work to write about. Especially since work has been kind of nuts lately; one of our residents just came back from the hospital after a stroke and is now a 2-3 person assist WITH a sit-to-stand (shudder). This is inconvenient, to say the least. Plus she's the first one to have actually broken my skin while being combative (with her fingernails). Thank God for coworkers and sanitizer. It's instinctual to get pissed when someone injures you, so I was very glad to be able to leave the room when that happened. Ugh.

Let's all cross our fingers that this week goes a little smoother!

Neglect

I see some weird situations in my line of work. Families who get up in arms about every little thing (such as how many fun-sized candy bars in the "for staff" dish are being eaten daily) and families who are almost impossible to get a hold of so we end up improvising mightily to try to get the resident's needs met. Old people who insist on wearing multiple pairs of underwear, or none at all. People who swear up and down that they lost a box of puppies, or that I work for the railway.

But the weirdest and saddest thing I see is neglect.

We got a new resident this weekend at my facility, who apparently was moved in by his private caregiver, to whom he pays the ungodly amount of $4,000 per month. Caregiver dropped him off and then took the weekend off. The marketing director at my facility apparently thought this was okay, even though she did the intake interview (not the director of nursing, which is who should have been given the opportunity to assess him before he moved in) and should have known that he cannot walk unassisted AT ALL. This is her job. To find out if people are a good match for what we can offer them, and to be sure they will be cared for adequately if they move in with us. She didn't do that. She failed, completely, at her job in this case.

So, since he was supposedly independent and his caregiver took off, this poor man spent the night in his armchair, peeing into a cup when he needed to pee. In the morning he tried to get up, and fell. Was taken to the hospital in an ambulance, and was readmitted to our facility and now suddenly needs to be on assistance. So I'm in his room, trying to figure out what stinks of urine (everything) and how I'm going to get this man cleaned up. His daughters have flown in from another state, horrified at the situation. They're in there, and I'm giving them a shopping list (waterproof bed pads, vinegar, briefs, hernia belt, etc.) and directions on how to get to the stores that sell this stuff.

The marketing director, who, along with the criminally neglectful "caregiver", created this mess, comes breezing in and pulls me into the other room to tell me to "call him Sir" rather than Mr. So-and-So, which I was doing. Then, as if to soften that blow, mouths "Don't worry, you're doing a good job" to me.

Oh. Hell. No.

Normally I appreciate hearing thanks or validation about my work. I love it when my residents say "Thank you so much honey" and give me hugs when I tuck them into bed. It makes me a little teary when they say "I'll miss you, doll, come say goodnight if you have a chance before you go home. Drive carefully!". This is a job where I feel I am making a difference every single day. And I love that.

But do I need validation from this woman who created a situation where the Director of Nursing's BEST option was to let this man fall so his family would see he needs help from sane people? No, no, no, I do not.

I'm not ashamed to admit that I fantasized about putting his filthy blankets in her office and suggesting that she wash them for Sir. Or tossing her the most disgusting hernia support belt I've ever seen in my life and watching her catch it with bare hands. Or telling her to brush this man's teeth, which were so discolored at this point, I won't even tell you what it looked like when I finally did get him to let me clean them.

What I do is difficult. And I don't need any fake-ass "compliments" from people who just don't get it, even if they work in eldercare and should know better.

And this poor man's "caregiver"? The family is prosecuting her. So my new resident is being cared for, and the person that neglected him is caught. Now that's a happy ending in my book. Though I may still have to find a way to put something disgusting in the marketing director's office ... and then tell her what a good job she's doing while she cleans it up.