The Flip Side of Yesterday's Rant

Well, just like I knew I would, I feel the need to say something in defense of some of the aides I ranted about in yesterday’s post. I do it every time. When I say something bluntly or in anger, I always later feel the other person deserves a little understanding because many times there are reasons for most people’s bad behavior. Notice I said most. So, not in their defense, but to give what I think is a fair assessment of the circumstances that may explain some of their behavior, I offer this appeasement.

I also don’t want to give the impression that we’ve not had good aides over the years. We have. There have been some who were wonderful, dedicated caregivers that worked along side me and helped both Mom and me through difficult times. Those aides became like members of the family and I still smile when I think about them. Each and every one of them left because of changes in their lives, not because I asked them to. Three of them went on to bigger and better things and even though I hated losing them, I was proud and happy of what they accomplished. Two of them still call occasionally to say hello and get updates on Mom’s condition. That kind of relationship is what I hope for each and every time a new aide walks through the door. Unfortunately, that hasn’t been the case in a long, long time.

I think one reason the quality of women attracted to the field seems to have changed so is that times are so financially difficult now and people are desperately searching for ways to make a living. Elder care is big business here and there’s never a lack of patients, so a lot of folks gravitate to medically-related fields whether they have a genuine interest or the necessary skills for it or not. I’ve found that most of the problem aides have been single moms trying to feed their children. If they do have a man at home, he doesn’t hold down a job, or he has drug or alcohol problems, sometimes both. Because I’m a sympathetic and empathetic person who has a genuine interest in people, it doesn’t take long before they’re telling me about their lives, their loves, their troubles, their hopes, and it’s almost always the same story. Some of them can stretch a dime further than you and I could ever think of. Others have absolutely no concept of budgeting, or of spending their money on necessities first and then buying the good stuff if anything is left. They’ll complain about not making their bills, and then spend from seven to ten dollars for their lunch. I know. I’ve seen the receipts. But it’s how they were raised, or not raised, so the price of lunch, or anything else for that matter, is not an issue.

What always surprises me is how little they know about cleanliness or how to take care of things. For instance, the garbage disposal. The fact that you really should run water through as you’re using one often comes as a total surprise. One aide was with us for eight months and drove me absolutely insane every working day of those eight months. I actually dreaded Mondays because I knew what I would be for over the next five days. So why did I let her stay that long? Because I felt sorry for her and always felt she had and would have a difficult time being in a place where people would accept her and be good to her. She was 51 years old, mentally and emotionally immature, and had no concept of the world outside of her own. I tried almost every day of those eight months to teach her how to operate the microwave. I had to for fear that if I left her to do it on her own, she’d melt it off the wall. She never learned because she couldn’t remember what she’d been shown the day before, or the day before that. And she went out and bought herself a pressure cooker! Run for the hills! She bit her fingernails and cuticles down to the point of bleeding because it was all she knew how to do. So, like a good mother, I taught her how to file her nails, which took three days, and explained how to care for cuticles. She worked on those hands every spare minute she had and was so proud when they started looking better. She was loud and destructive without meaning to be and I had to watch her like a hawk. She had a definite learning disability, and her vision was so bad that she shouldn’t have been driving so I always had to check Mom over for anything she missed while bathing her. I couldn’t let her feed Mom because she shoveled the food in so fast Mom would gag. And she was always glued to my side. I couldn’t have a moment without her. Lordy, could she talk. I visited the bathroom often just for a moment of peace and quiet.

She was pitiful, a lost soul who was a royal pain in the neck. But she had a big heart and tried so very hard to please, plus she was good to Mom. Because I could see that, and because I sympathized with her so, I let her stay on. But I never left her alone with Mom for more than a second because I knew I could never trust what she’d do in a case of an emergency, or what she might do that would cause an emergency. I say that because once when I was gagging on a pill that went down the wrong way, she told me not to worry because if I passed out, she’d give me a “trach”! Man, did I swallow that pill fast. I think it was the gulp that did it. When I asked her what on God’s earth would even make her think of such a thing and had she been taught how to do it, she said no, but she’d seen it done. That’s when she told me about her years of experience working in hospitals, both emergency and intensive care! Oh, my God! So why did she leave? Are you ready for this? Mom went into the hospital and she committed to a new patient the very next morning because it would cost her money not to and she couldn’t have that. Other aides had taken on temporary patients when Mom was hospitalized but she didn’t think of that. After eight months of aggravation, she bailed at the first sign of trouble. I thanked my lucky stars because I was out of it without having to hurt her feelings…and while Mom and I were still in one piece.

So maybe I bring about a lot of my own problems with aides because I feel sorry for them, or put up with too much for too long, or brag on them too much when they’re still in the try-hard stage, or allow them to get too comfortable. That’s hard for me not to do because they’re in our home every day and I don’t want people to feel uncomfortable here. But all the times I’ve put up with too much simply because of this being-nice-to-people thing of mine doesn’t excuse the ones who really were mean-spirited, or lazy, or dirty, or dishonest, or disrespectful, or had no compassion, or who were expert cons. As in all fields, there are the good and the bad. But this breed of bad should be weeded out because they are going into homes during a very difficult and vulnerable time in someone’s life. When proven complaints are waged against them by a reliable source, they shouldn’t be sent on to new patients. But they are. That needs to change. Enough said.

I won’t be posting for a day or two because I have to devote the few minutes of spare time like the ones I’ve spent on my posts to my other Internet project. Sounds like I know what I’m talking about, doesn’t it? I don’t. Pray for me.

Till next time,
Sharon