Had an incident yesterday where a CNA that I work with found it necessary to confront a resident who had complained about her.
Really? Someone explain to me why this is a good idea.
There's only two proper responses to a resident complaint: Silence or an apology. Confronting a resident is never a good idea.
Luckily for the CNA, the resident didn't want anything further done. Technically, this would be abuse and the CNA could have come under investigation.
Some days I wonder if people unplug their frontal lobes before coming to work. Grr.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Future Entertainment
So, yesterday we had a gentleman come in and sing Karaoke for the residents. Mostly old country tunes and spiritual songs.
When it's my turn, do you think someone will come out and perform "Succubus" by Five Finger Death Punch for my listening pleasure?
When it's my turn, do you think someone will come out and perform "Succubus" by Five Finger Death Punch for my listening pleasure?
Saturday, March 6, 2010
Previous Occupation
Warning: Sexist material to follow.
One of the many pieces of information that we have on our residents is what they did to make a living. The ones I find the most interesting are the women who worked outside the home. Most of my ladies are between 75 and 95 years old. They were CNA's, LPN's, School Teachers, Shop Keepers, Waitresses, Farmers, Bar owners (yes, we have a couple of those) and Domestic Technicians. All of them had children. Somehow, they managed to work, keep house, raise children and keep a man happy (at least for a little while). Some of them worked away from home when it was looked down upon. (As if contributing finacially to the family were shameful.) Keep in mind, too, that this is "The South" and we're a good 10 to 15 years behind the times as far as acceptance of women as equals.
Sometimes when I'm talking to them, I get a glimpse of that steel that kept them going even when they were bone tired from work and still had children to bathe and dishes to wash. It's no wonder they've outlived their husbands and, in some cases, their children. They've been going so long, they don't quite know how to stop.
So, what's the point? When we think work is rough, try to see it from their perspective. They watch us work and they've already been there, done that and sewn their own t-shirts. They got through it and they expect the same from us. Frankly, they don't want to hear our complaints, they just want us to take care of them the way they took care of their customers back in the day. (Well, maybe not the bar owner who used to chase unruly patrons out with a broom, but the rest of them.)
It's the least we can do.
One of the many pieces of information that we have on our residents is what they did to make a living. The ones I find the most interesting are the women who worked outside the home. Most of my ladies are between 75 and 95 years old. They were CNA's, LPN's, School Teachers, Shop Keepers, Waitresses, Farmers, Bar owners (yes, we have a couple of those) and Domestic Technicians. All of them had children. Somehow, they managed to work, keep house, raise children and keep a man happy (at least for a little while). Some of them worked away from home when it was looked down upon. (As if contributing finacially to the family were shameful.) Keep in mind, too, that this is "The South" and we're a good 10 to 15 years behind the times as far as acceptance of women as equals.
Sometimes when I'm talking to them, I get a glimpse of that steel that kept them going even when they were bone tired from work and still had children to bathe and dishes to wash. It's no wonder they've outlived their husbands and, in some cases, their children. They've been going so long, they don't quite know how to stop.
So, what's the point? When we think work is rough, try to see it from their perspective. They watch us work and they've already been there, done that and sewn their own t-shirts. They got through it and they expect the same from us. Frankly, they don't want to hear our complaints, they just want us to take care of them the way they took care of their customers back in the day. (Well, maybe not the bar owner who used to chase unruly patrons out with a broom, but the rest of them.)
It's the least we can do.
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