Tuesday, January 27, 2009

Wicked Scriptures and Missing Teeth

Going in to work today, I thought it was going to be an easy, stress-free evening. The last few shifts last week (fights between residents, residents trying to deck me, residents yelling...was it a full moon?) left me feeling frazzled, more than I knew at the time. As much as I didn't want to work tonight, I was also looking forward to the calm of a Monday evening before immersing myself in the week's schedules and programs.

The rec girls had booked a highland dance school to come and perform for us. As an ex-Irish dancer, I'm not supposed to like Scots, or their dancing, or their traditional dance outfits, but hey - they were about to provide some entertainment and I was grateful.

Evening started off well. Talked to a few of my "little treasures", as they are known by the other staff - some older ladies that I've connected with and really get along with. Some of them I brought to the big room where the dancers would perform, others I tucked into bed and wished goodnight.

The trouble began when I went down to the secure, locked units to see if any of the residents there wanted to come up. These units are where I spent my practicum while I was in college, and love it as I do, I don't get down there often anymore. To get in, or get out, of the units you need to go through 2 sets of locked doors, punching a code into the buttons on the wall to unlock them. The residents down there have severe Alzheimer's and would wander outside and get lost if not watched constantly.

Having said all that, here's what happened this evening:

A very enthusiastic nurse begins naming residents who should go up. I am on my own and can take a maximum of 3 at a time (house rules). So, first Man and Lady #1 are going to come up. Lady #1 is yelling, literally yelling, "WICKED SCRIPTURES! She's preaching wicked, WICKED SCRIPTURES!" Nothing I say can draw her attention away from this blasphemy. Man is oblivious to the noise around him and walks, a few inches forward with each step, leaning heavily on me. After a few minutes we make it to the first door, which I open, and a minute later we get to the second door. We go through. I call an elevator.

Lady #1 has decided she is scared of elevators and it would not be fitting for her friend Man to go on either. In an effort to distract her, I ask her to take care of him. It works. In the elevator, the conversation goes as follows.

Man: I can't go with you.
Lady#1: Get the boy a drink of water!
Man: I need to look after the sheep.
Me: The sheep are doing well, but I'll double check while you watch the dancing.
Lady #1: DID YOU HEAR THE WICKED SCRIPTURES?!?!
Me: Who is preaching?
Lady #1: He needs some water! And a blanket. Don't you?
Man: What happened to my sheep?
Lady #1: SHE PREACHED WICKED SCRIPTURES!!!
Me: The sheep are in the barn. We don't have to worry about the preacher anymore, she's gone away.
Lady #1 (her face is turning red): WICKED, WICKED SCRIPTURES!

...And so on. We finally, slowly, make it off the elevator. I notice Man is missing his teeth. I cannot leave them on their own - they could get lost - so we go ALL THE WAY back downstairs, through the first set of doors, find his dentures lying on the ground, we go back through the doors to the bathroom, wash off his teeth, call down an elevator, and start the whole process again. We are still upset about the Wicked Scriptures, and the sheep are missing. I have the feeling that it is going to be a loooong evening.

The dancing has just begun when Lady #1 and Man have been comfortably seated. The music is too loud. I hate bagpipes. It is just after 7:00. I go back downstairs.

Lady # 2 and Lady #3 are really looking forward to going up. The nurse has recruited a few more who would like to see the dancers besides these two ladies, but I have to turn them down. Lady #3 is having some trouble standing. "Just pull on my bum!" By this she means pull the top of her pants up to help her stand. I'm a tiny little thing - a nurse should be doing this - but I help her anyways to save time. Nurse stops us, Lady #3 needs her meds still! We wait. We walk. We get through first set of locked doors. Lady #3 spits pills out on to floor.

Now what? Lady #2 has already proceeded to the second set of doors and doesn't know why she's there. I need to go back and tell the nurse that Ladt #3 spit out her pills, so they can clean them up before someone else thinks it's a candy, and re-administer the drugs. Ladies 2 and 3 are reluctant to have to backtrack, but they come back into the unit so I can tell nurse, who stares blankly. I leave. We go outside, call an elevator.

Elevator comes. Once lady #2 is inside the elevator, Lady #3 says it's time to stretch her legs. She trundles off with a squeaky walker towards the front doors. I apologize profusely to Lady #2 and tell her that, regrettably, we need to follow Lady #3. She rolls her eyes and sighs, frustrated at her friend, not at me, and off we go.

My dear sweet man, the one who said he had a big heart (see first blog entry), is sitting close by. He is lonely and wants to talk about Canadian politics. He is a smart man who knows and understands what is happening in the world these days, but I can't talk right now. He is sad, I'm his friend, I always talk to him. Always. But tonight I can't. He still wishes me a goodnight, and off I go, guilt twinging at my conscience.

When I catch up to Lady #3, she is standing in between the two sets of automatic doors that lead outside. "It's cold outside! I think I'll need my jacket." "But", I protest, "The dancers are upstairs."
"Oh, are they? I thought they were out here."

We move on. Finally get upstairs. Lady #3 is complaining of cramps in her legs and fatigue, and says the dancers had better be worth it. A couple of chairs are pulled out for the ladies. It is 7:35. I am relieved that we have finally made it up. The dancers are booked until 8, so the ladies will still see the second half of the show.

Ladies #2 and #3 sit down. The dance teacher steps onto the stage. "Ladies and gentlemen, we hope you have enjoyed our performance. Thank you all for coming and we hope you have a good week!" Applause. Lady #2 gives me SUCH a LOOK. I can't believe the dancers have cut their program in half. Lady #1 tells me how nice it was. Man asks if his sheep have been fed. Lady #3 would like to know why I bothered bringing her up.

While portering residents back to their rooms, one lost man in the palliative care unit asked for some help finding his room. It took a few tries, but eventually we found it . I helped him into his bed, fixed his oxygen mask for him and tucked a blanket around him. He asks, "Do you know why God made you beautiful? God made you beautiful so you can make old men like me smile."

This man is in this unit because he will pass away soon. He doesn't have much to live for anymore. He's in his 90's. But he reminded my of why I was there - to make old men (or women) like him smile.

You know what? I love my job.

3 comments:

Unknown said...

That was beautifully written. I know it was stressful at the time, but I was smiling all the way through. I hope he finds his sheep one day. Well done!

L Harris said...

Jess, wow! well done. i'm sitting here thinking how our jobs are not all that different. We're just on the opposite end of things. Still, I couldn't do your job. I'm so very glad God created you to do it.

Jess said...

Thanks Morpheus and Mrs Harris!
I think you're right, L - my job must be similar to paranting. Except that at the end of the I can go home and relax and you're needed 24/7. :) The world needs more good moms :) Best job in the world, looking after your own children :)