It's Not Funny Anymore

I usually have a light-hearted approach when I write about my frustrations on this job here, but right now I'm feeling pretty heavy handed. I am so tired of the administrative short-sighted "bottom line" approach that Alvin N. Chipmunkk has and his half sister, Squirrelette, parrots. The guidelines state that people living in the independent residences have to maintain a modicum of independent abilities and if they are unable to do certain things due to physical or cognitive impairment, then they must either hire a caregiver or move to Assisted Living or Healthcare, depending on the degree of their impairment. The assistants in this department are supposed to provide EMERGENCY care and do things such as dispense medications or provide TEMPORARY support assistance for someone who has returned from the hospital. We are not supposed to be performing lifts and transfers. We are not supposed to be dealing with ongoing incontinence issues or people who are serious fall risks on a longterm basis. We also provide support which necessitates very high levels of medical training, such as doing laundry and making beds. ;-) What we are NOT supposed to be doing, according to the manual, is providing services which people are generally supposed to be able to take care of themselves, such as going to the bathroom or changing their own incontinence briefs in the event that they are incontinent. If someone sometimes has to call because they've had an "accident," so be it. But not every night!

We are now going to have to start providing SHOWERS to a woman who has just returned from Health Care (where she should actually be residing due to her deteriorating spine.) And also bathroom assists. We already have "Joanne," to whom we give three bathroom assists every night. And "Frank," who has terrible sinus problems and is getting more and more confused and calls every night to ask if we have "anything else" we can give him. He doesn't remember that he's been told that we can't give OTC meds without a doctor's order. However, Frank is charged for each time we are called to his room. Get it? No wonder Alvin doesn't want to suggest that Frank might fare better in another setting.

Wednesday nights are promising to be the Cluster Fuck From Hell with the shower for "Anika," the extra ironing for "Marie," plus the usual stuff. We have had to send ten people to the hospital over the past three days for severe vomiting and diarrhea which always also involves an increase in blood pressure. This is actually the sort of thing that I'm SUPPOSED to be dealing with. But in the midst of dealing with the emergency, I have to be worrying that I missed getting up to Joanne's room at 2 a.m. to walk her to the bathroom.

Joanne is a very nice woman, but it irritates me that if she has a problem with the way we do something, rather than telling us directly, she goes to the nurse. Maybe she feels bad about criticizing people to their face. But I'd rather that she tell me when she has a problem with the way I do something rather than going to Squirrellette and making me look like a bozo.

Honestly, Folks, I am very sick of working in this kind of setting. I don't really want to be working in medicine at all any more. But as that's where my training is, I'm kinda stuck at this point. If I do end up moving back to the Southwest in a few years, I hope I can find another bartending job. I'm tired of people's butts and shitty attitudes.

Sick of it all right now.

The thought of shooting myself and getting it over with crossed my mind in a serious way. Then I thought about my son. He still needs me.

But I have to admit if lightning were to rip through the roof of this godforsaken joint right now, I'd be diving to get under the bolt, no shit!

And I would hope to go to a realm with no more ass.

But with my luck, Axe Man would just end up following me everywhere.

Nah. It's not worth it.

The (burned out, pissed off and miserable) Cheesemeister