So, what's it like to help people at the tail end of their lives? Here's my story. Initially I had to take the classes to get certified. CPR stuff, taking blood pressure, but mostly how to work with the bed ridden, stroke victims, etc. And glamourous stuff like how to brush dentures. Jelly? My very first day on the job, first hour actually, I was called to help a few others moving a very large patient from bed to a big hanging chair thingy on wheels. Like a big hammock inside a steel frame on wheels. There were 4 of us to give you an idea. Someone wheeled it in, & the 4 of us somehow rolled/carried her into the hammock. Then they wheeled her out of the room. But 2 memories, to this day, sadly I still recall. The first is she dripped a green trail all the way out. The other is the smell was horrifying. I actually had to step out in the hallway as I thought I was about to sell Buicks. That was my first hour on the job.
I became friends with a resident named Ed. Wheelchair bound. I took care of him (helped him dress, brush teeth, etc.) During nice days I would punch in, fill everyone's water pitcher, then wheel Ed outside where we would chat. He would talk about his life, his family. I don't recall his age but guessing he was near 100. When you're 20, they all look 100. Anyhoots, great guy. He was my favorite. Which meant I was sad often talking to him. Because every single conversation he would take my hand and pull me close, he was weirdly strong.
He would pull me close, stare at me with these sad, pleading eyes and say the same thing, each time: 'promise me this. never ever get old. promise me.'
Sad now thinking about him. He was a smart, proud, accomplished guy. He was well taken care of there, but obviously all alone. I watched him physically shrink over the months, into a tiny person. Since I worked there 2 years, I knew when he passed away. More sadness. And I didn't even know him that well. But I was one of the few staffers who would talk to him. Mostly listen but that counts. Somehow I avoided having anyone die on my shift. I had it happen before & after but somehow never witnessed that protocol.
Ed's roommate was Bernie. We all dreaded taking care of Bernie because he was combative. And he was strong. He would fight us getting in & out of his jammies. Usually took 2 of us, one to try to pin his arms or keep him from punching us, the other to try to change him. Fun stuff. The way the nurses dealt with him was to put him on massive doses of Haldol, which turned him into a zombie. He couldn't speak or communicate he was so drugged up. All he could do was fight us. Talk about sad.
Imagine living a normal healthy productive life, and then ending up like that as there were no other options. I mean for real: imagine you or someone close to you like this. Nobody expects their end of life to look like this. But it happens. A lot. I saw it.
So the families of the residents were sometimes there when I was in the room. Not often, a few times a week it would happen. The reason I'm noting is the verbal commentary that went like 'grandma look how cute he is! you are so lucky to have such a cute boy taking care of you!' This routinely happened. I ignored it, thinking how weird that is but I was there to work. Another time a male resident walked up to me & I quote 'five bucks for a blow job.' I declined. I'm sure I reported that to the nurse. But I thought then, five bucks? Really? But then, he would have been alive during the depression where a fiver meant something. Let's focus.
We CNAs had to give baths to the residents. They had a specialized hot tub, single seater, front door opened where a special chair rolled in. I did that often, most shifts I reckon. Thinking back, I recall how the nudity was ignored by everyone. The residents were in an institution of sorts, where any modesty, and sense of identity maybe, slipped away. Sad, no?
We also fed them, spoon fed really, in the dining area. Well, those that couldn't feed themselves obviously. We CNAs would sit at same table, chit chat etc. whilst we fed folks 4x our age. Here I am, a 20-year-old, spoon feeding people with strokes, Alzheimer's, etc. The older I got the more I realized that effect on me. Again: time to live life is now, right now. The rich, the poor, anyone can end up there. If they're lucky enough to afford it that is. To have that nursing care, families that care & can afford, etc. One time after dinner the nurse pulled me aside, asked if I fed someone. I said yes. She said the family is here and there's food on their sweatshirt. Please pay attention. She was def right. I'd be unhappy also if I saw that. My bad. Odd how I recall that exact conversation so vividly.
The people I met. Mary, the CNA with some odd mental issue I dated for a few months. The 2 blonde fella CNAs, Noah & another can't recall name. All the weird nurses, who mainly dispensed pills for a living & hassled us CNAs. The graveyard shifts I worked. Not many, 10 maybe. I dug them, other than being so tired, as they all mostly slept. But 8 hours of pure boredom. The 'doubles' I did to make time and a half for the 2nd shift, ergo 16 hour shifts. Prolly another 10 of those. How happy I would be to get a paycheck for $500. I'm talking thrilled. Big bucks for a college kid.
For a summer, who knows why, I applied for weekend shifts driving food from 1 facility with the kitchen to another, a mile away. I drove a big box truck to & fro. 6-foot-high shelves on rollers were waiting for me, stacked with food trays. I rolled them to the truck platform, used the hydraulic lift to roll them inside. Then rolled the empties inside the truck. Stop me when this gets too exciting. I did this for $8/hr I think, same as my CNA rate. Maybe it was more, can't recall. Got there way early for the breakfast run, then a few hours to pass for lunch, then a few more hours for din.
In between drives I was supposed to be sweeping out the garage, cleaning up something, but I rarely did. Instead, I drove home & relaxed. Home was 20 minutes away. Apparently, I assumed the job was solely driver guy, not janitor guy. After a couple months of this, driving back & forth on nice sunny days I thought 'this sucks I'd rather be biking.' Went back to being a CNA.
Because I was a psych major, and serious about pursuing as a career in some capacity (which I did, somewhat) I volunteered to work in the Alzheimer's unit. This was a locked unit. The keypad code was the current year. That alone should tell you about this condition. In college I decided I would focus on gerontology & researching dementia (that passed).
I saw lots & lots of sad behavior in there. I don't feel like writing about it. Just one memory I will. When those new patients were admitted, they were diagnosed but usually early stage. That meant they still had their long-term memory & it was tip top. I would spend time with the new patients, helping them transition to institutional life, or trying to. Mainly that meant explaining over & over & over, every 15 minutes, who I was & where they were. Also, the deterioration is fast. I saw it weekly, the decline. One guy, I think he was a teacher, he talked about his life my first several shifts with him. The next month I went up to him as he was standing in the hallway staring intently at the wall. I said hi are you ok. He pointed. Said, and I quote 'why are the walls bleeding.'
Imagine how sad & frightening that must be. Well, I do. I adopted an adult cat from the local shelter 2 months ago. I've been thinking about my new cat, specifically the trauma of being abandoned by whatever her prior home was. Then being locked up in small cage in the shelter for a few weeks. Then being taken home by me, a stranger in a strange house. Having no control over any of it. Lots of examples of that I reckon.
Final thought. Over time I noticed the single most important factor in the happiness of the patients: their physical health. Specifically, the overweight had a miserable end of life experience. Just getting in & out of bed required me & sometimes another CNA. So many were wheelchair bound. Those better emotionally were 'ambulatory' meaning they could still walk around, even if using a walker. Nobody was happy there, that's for certain, but the wheelchair folks were on another level of unhappy.
