The memory care unit has been a bit on the crazy side lately. My friend has been more anxious than usual, more demanding, and more snippy, which is putting it gently. Thankfully, my skin has grown thicker with the year and a half of sitting with her, so if she gets angry and calls me a Son of B----, it doesn't hurt my feelings at all. She's just upset that I can't take her to the toilet or help her into bed. In fact, I keep telling her she has to stay put and wait for the aides to come assist her.
But my friend is not the only one making the unit a little wacky. We have new residents who are able to walk, but need supervision. Of course they don't know that so they keep hopping up which leaves the aides and nurses scurrying to get them settled again. Yesterday, while my friend was quiet and sleepy, I held a few hands, rubbed a back or two, and hopped out of my seat to make sure one dear, old, gentleman didn't topple over. I don't typically jump quite so fast and I'm not even really supposed to, but I just can't sit there and watch them go down. Besides, the aftermath of a fall only makes the unit all the more unsettled, even if the individual isn't injured. I saved not only T from a fall, but the nurses a whole lot of paperwork as well.
I have no clue in the world what I will do when this job comes to an end, but so far my friend is healthy and doing well aside from her agitation and angst. I've been using the quiet afternoon time to read my books, do my Bible study, write in my journal, or do online puzzles. It's not a bad job and it gives me a sense of purpose that I don't find on those days I sit at home.
The photo, quite obviously, has absolutely nothing to do with work. It's just a little corner of my living room.
Malcolm Young RIP.
5 hours ago