Lack of Activity

Sorry about the lack of activity here.  It's not that I've run out of things to say, but a friend of mine is in the hospital. I've been taking care of her cats in the morning and so haven't been online much at all.  She's hoping they'll spring her tomorrow.  Once she's back home, I'll get back on track and post more regularly.

Opposite Day

If I didn't know better, I would think that I was dropped off in an alternate universe where everything you get is the opposite of what you expect.

The owner came to inservice and was appreciative and complimentary.  Not one disparaging comment during his entire speech.  He almost seemed sincere.

The new DON ran the meeting and it went quickly and almost painlessly.  And, we got carrot cake cupcakes with cream cheese frosting and candy pumpkins on top.

I got my check, it had the correct amount of pay on it and included my second week of vacation which I had asked to be paid out.

I'm not sure what I did to deserve a smooth inservice like that, but I hope I figure it out so I can do it again.

Changing of the Guard... Again.

So, as I'm walking into work yesterday, I see large pieces of furniture moving out the front door.

Our DON is leaving.

At the end of the month, our Administrator is leaving.

So, once the new ones are ensconced, that will be the fifth DON I've worked under and the fourth Administrator.  And I have only worked at this one facility and I've only been there three and a half years.

Really?

You know what's not changing?  (Well, as far as I know, anyway.) The owner.  And, frankly, from what I've seen so far, that means nothing is really changing at all.

Honesty

"So, Mrs. A, how do you like your new room?" I asked.

"Well," she said, "it's better than sleeping in the hallway."

Memorial Book

Losing residents is the nature of the nursing center beast. You learn to cope real quick. I've created a Memorial Book where I write down anecdotes about the folks I've lost. (I'd do this online, but, you know, HIPAA and all.) It gives me a chance to remember them and do a little crying without doing it at work. I also have a page dedicated to folks who I didn't get to know because they only came to the nursing home to spend their last days.

I could collect obituaries, but writing my memories about them seems to help me more than reading what someone else wants me to read. I write it, get it out, and then I can put it in a little box where it can't bother me unless I choose to open it up and let it out again.

Nursing Fashion

Whoever invented those hip-hugger pants and then expected people in nursing to wear them must like looking at butt cracks. I have to wear t-shirts under my scrub tops to tuck them into my pants so that everyone doesn't get mooned 45 times a night.

And is it sad that the most joy I got out of last night was pulling up a co-workers pants when she had an armful of books and was about to be seriously overexposed? I have to wonder what that says about me.

Parallels

We're constantly losing skin cells. We shed them a little at a time and we generally don't notice it. Sometimes we speed it up by scratching or exfoliating, but even then it's not uncomfortable.

Sometimes we get an abrasion. A rug burn. It hurts for a day or two, we put some antibiotic ointment on it and maybe a bandage and we go on.

Every once in a long while we take a tumble that leaves a deeper wound. We sit, stunned, watching ourselves bleed and we might even cry. This time we need to stop the bleeding, clean the wound and use a more serious dressing on it. Maybe even gauze wrapping to keep it in place. Now it hurts for a long time, affecting everything we do until we are significantly along the road to healing.

Losing co-workers is like this too, You have that layer that comes and goes and that you don't notice much. You have some that make you pause when they leave but you get over it. And then there's a few that go away that really affect you and make you re-learn how to work without them. Those are the ones you really miss. You heal eventually, but there's always a scar left behind to remind you of your loss.