Memories of a Former Life

I have been sent back in time a lot recently - back to my days as a nursing assistant.  That was one of the hardest jobs I have ever done and I still have much respect for those that can perform that job on a daily basis. 

I worked in a nursing home and it was my job to take care of approximately 12 residents.  My shift started at 7am and ended at 7pm.  My duties included waking each resident, dressing them, changing their diaper if they had one, replacing linens, and preparing them for breakfast.  After breakfast was done I would return them to their rooms (or clear out their trays if they ate from their bed).  Until lunch I took vitals and responded to call lights.  This most definitely was not a time to relax.  I remember running around like a chicken with its head cut off most of the time.  I also had to make sure that each resident had his or her shower (each were scheduled three times a week).  This required me to wheel them to the shower, undress them, bathe them in the shower room, get them back in the wheelchair while all slippery wet, towel them off, then redress them.  This was no small feat for someone of such little stature as myself weighing in at a whopping 103 pounds and 5 feet 2 inches.

Then there was prepping and cleaning for lunch, and dinner.  There was never a dull moment.

I would leave work sweaty, gross, and sore.  I don't know how I survived without physically hurting myself or the residents.  Boy were some of them heavy!  But, the point of the story is that I had to do some pretty disgusting things that really humbled me.  Bodily fluids and excretions started to not phase me one bit.  I changed adult diapers and colonoscopy bags several times a day.  But, what really got me is one lady that was bed ridden.  It broke my heart to see what some of these poor people had to go through and I would just hope and pray I would never be in a similar situation.  She had Alzheimers and was unable to move.  We had to turn her regularly so that she did not get bed sores.  She could however use her hands.  Because of this, she liked to "explore" using the one thing she could move.  We would often find stools in her finger nails and scraped along the wall.  Cleaning that up made me sad and a little sick to my stomach.

The reason I bring this up is that I hoped I would never have to deal with this situation again.  When I moved to Phoenix, I quit my job at the nursing home and never looked back.  I never renewed my license and didn't complete nursing school.  But, somehow it followed me.

Now, four years later I am doing it again.  My little Weston has become fascinated with poop.  Three of his past four baths have included him pooping in the water and then trying to "fish" it out with his toys.  This then requires me to sanitize all of his toys as well as the bathtub.  When he dirties his diaper, he takes his clothes off and runs around the house.  But, he refuses to tell me before he goes (although he can go to the bathroom in the toilet and will when he feels like it).  We tried big boy underwear and he had a panic attack after his first accident and screamed for over a half hour - sobbing for his diaper.

So now we have today.  Nap time.  They were loud as usual and not going to sleep.  But, I had things to do so ignored their shenanigans and just hoped they would eventually fall asleep.  Boy do I wish I had not done that.  As it is nearing the time they usually wake up (they had only been quiet for about 15 minutes) Natalie all of a sudden starts sobbing.  I walk in to see this.

Natalie was squatting on top of Weston's bed frame and Weston was lying naked on the floor with his head on his sheetless mattress.  He had managed to rip his mattress off his bed, remove his bed sheet and all of his blankets as well as his bed rail.  Then, he had unzipped Natalie's bed tent that was secured shut with a safety pin.  This allowed her to remove all of her blankets and jump out.  What a mess!  Then I looked even closer.  Not only was Weston naked, but he had pooped, removed his diaper, and spread the poop all over the room.  It was on his toys, his blankets, the carpet, the door, his bed frame - everywhere!  He even had little "poop footprints" that you could see in the carpet.  What a disaster.

So you see, I didn't in fact leave that job forever.  Instead, it followed me home.