This, I Do for a Living?

I am ready to scream!  I am so exasperated!  Why, oh why, is that not one of the mood choices on this format?  (AOL, take note.)  It should be!  I've just come back to work fresh from vacation and the place is a zoo.  Yesterday was the day from hell, today was even worse; prognosis for tomorrow?  Not too promising.

Why do you suppose I'm more comfortable caring for and working with old folks rather than young ones?  Is it because I'm heading in that direction as opposed to where I've already been?  There are many similarities between these two groups.  They are impatient, forever whining, self-centered and each one of them is the only one who matters!  Whew!  Here's a little peek into my day:

It's 6:50 in the morning.  The building stands silently.  My pager (which works as our call-bell system) lies quietly in my pocket, ready to spring into life.  Once turned on, it will continue to beep on and off for the entirety of my shift.  The walkie-talkie I wear on my belt will begin to sound as well; reminders from the nurse on duty, requests for help from other caregivers, requests from residents filtered down through the receptionist at the front desk to me.  It is constant, neverending and by the end of the day, I am more than ready to take both pieces of equipment and hurl them mightily through a window.  Of course, I do not do this but the temptation is great!

I go about my day.  Things really spring into action about 7AM.  This begins the busiest hour of the entire day, a day's worth of work packed into sixty minutes.  Wake these folks up, help them to dress, take them to the bathroom, help them wash up, etc., retrace my steps to make sure that those I woke earlier have not fallen back to sleep and finally, escort them either by walking or wheelchair to the dining room.  All this by 8AM when we must be ready to switch hats and suddenly become Super Waitress!  On my hall I have five, sometimes six wheelchairs and one very slow walking resident to escort (interesting to note, this resident is our oldest at almost 102 and never uses a wheelchair!)

This takes a long time but somehow we manage to get our butts into the kitchen, get the necessary order-taking clipboards, take orders, serve hot cereal and pour endless cups of coffee!  We serve the breakfast meal, clear tables and it is impossible to get from one end of the dining room to the other without being beseeched upon with non-stop requests.  What's truly maddening is that so many of them ask the same thing of everyone who passes by; consequently, by the time you return with whatever it was they wanted, there's already one (or two) of whatever sitting in front of them.  I know perfectly well that this is all due to the short-term memory problem so many of these people suffer from.  Sometimes, however, you just can't help feeling that they think you're incredibly stupid and can't remember a simple request.

To be continued: