Another Day at Work
I’ve now completed my first week of work. And I think I have already been dubbed the ‘go-to’ girl if you need some lily-liver-ed, no-spine, can’t-say-no-er girl to work for you. I think it’s some sort of physiological impairment that I have picked up over my vast 18 years of experience in this world. (Can I really count 18? Because for the first 6 or so you’re pretty much oblivious to anything not including candy, cartoons, and whatever other interests you might have at that age. But maybe you were a precocious little sucker, and read the newspaper every day, and were an avid fan of the evening news. Who am I to judge?)
But basically, the point of that little rant was, I’ve been approached 4 times about switching my schedule, in the 5 days that I’ve worked. 3 times I’ve answered with the affirmative, and the fourth, I kind of refused without actually saying no, because I gave the excuse I don’t plan that far ahead. (Unless it has anything to do with The Dark Knight- then I plan about 2 years ahead.) While this is all well and good, since I need the hours and my willingness to oblige will hopefully earn me a few favors in return, I am nonetheless disturbed at my all-to-willing to please nature. I had this similar attitude at Taco Time and was usually thought of as a ditz and not really someone to respect. So maybe this isn’t the best approach to my new work place.
The real reason for this post was to inform my avid readers of the fact that I have just performed my first postmortem care on a resident. This means that one of my residents died while I was taking care of him. That’s right. Died. As in I will no longer be changing his briefs, or more importantly he has left behind a grieving widow, and a sorrowful family. When I walked into his room and saw his family surrounding the bed, all completely silent, I knew something wasn’t right. One of his daughters calmly informed me that “He’s gone”. So I immediately informed the med-CNA, and well the rest is history.
What struck me during that afternoon, and the limited interaction I had with the residents family, was how calm everyone emotionally involved was. I never saw any family members prostate with grief, or screaming about the cruelness of the world, etc. I suppose that sort of control of your emotions would come with age and maturity. Something I have yet to posses, I think. I know that if any of my family members or loved ones died… I would be a wreck. I start bawling when my car breaks down. If something happened to my family? I wouldn’t be very coherent for a few days, that’s for sure.
One thing I am learning from my experiences so far at Apple Village, is appreciation. Appreciation for the time I have been given with my family and loved ones, for my youth (sometimes), and for the many experiences that I’ve had so far in my short 18 years of life that have shaped me into who I am today, and who I will become. Life is kinda crazy sometimes huh?
Sorry to get a little…I would say philosophical, but that would mean I was saying something profound-or at least smart. But since I don’t do that very often… I’ll just say emotional.
