09/07/2021
From FB member Tammy, of Activity directors for people with dementia group:
“
My niece works in a memory care unit and wrote this piece after one of her very favorite "elderly friends" had passed. He was a teacher and always encouraged Jessica to write- so one day she put her pencil to paper and wrote this.
"What do you do for a living?."
The other day, someone asked me what I did for a living.
It's so unsatisfactory to say "I work in a Memory Care unit at an Assisted Living Facility." It's not enough to say "I help the elderly." Because I do so much more.
I get to work at 6am and see that your favorite grandma is wandering the halls, picking up baby dolls and cleaning counters. She sits on the couch and falls asleep because she doesn't know where else to go. She has a room right down the hall but it really isn't her room, not to her. She doesn't know where she is. But the couch is a safe place, so there she sits, and she falls asleep. I let her sleep for a while because I know she's been up all night, and I don't want to take away the rest she's getting there, in that safe spot.
While she sleeps, someone's grandpa is waking up in his room. I help him get out of bed because he can't do it on his own. I walk him to the restroom where I, a 22 year old female, have to help him, a 90-something male, void his bladder so that it doesn't get on him or the floor. I offer him the option of taking a shower, and sometimes he says yes, but mostly he says no because he could've sworn he just took one yesterday. I put out clothes so that he may choose what to wear, and together we dress him. I shave his face, I brush his thinning hair, I help put in his dentures. He is ready for the day. I walk him to the dining room so that he can have his cup of coffee and enjoy the bright sunshine peaking through the windows. Three minutes later, he gets up and walks back to bed, because he has forgotten that he just woke up.
At this time your grandma is up again, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes and going into each and every room and waking up the people, because she is a mom and these are her children and she just wants to take care of them. But really, she is 80 something and they are all in their 90's and they are so tired but she is just helping. So I redirect her to the laundry, ask her to fold some towels while I prepare a snack to offer her. She has already forgotten about her babies, but she is happily folding away.
As I'm making a snack I hear the early morning screams of someone's favorite great-aunt. She is calling for her dad because she wants some water. "Dad! DAD! I need water, dad!" A coworker takes over the snack making while I run to give her the water. "Thank you, dad, I was choking", she says to me. I tell her "You're welcome, I love you" and tuck her back into bed. She is 87 but just 8 in her mind right now, and she says "I love you too, dad" and she falls back to sleep.
I walk into another room and the lady who cannot walk has her feet halfway off of the bed, because she can't remember that she can't walk, and she has places to be this morning. She can't see me yet, so she yells at the closet doors to help her walk to the store, because we need to go now and it's an emergency. She is frantic and has tears streaming down her cheeks. I lower my voice to just above a whisper and I say her name. She is quiet for a moment and I say, "Good morning, beautiful!" and she smiles, she relaxes, she says "Good morning, dear. How are you?" I turn on the radio and a familiar song pours through the speakers, and suddenly this sad, confused woman is singing. I am quiet as I help her feet back onto the bed, and she has her eyes closed. I cover her with her blankets that she had managed to throw off, and she is calm. I let her rest.
On my way back to the dining room, the central area of our "Neighborhood", I peek into a room and see someone's grandpa covered in p**p. Its on his hands, on the bed, down his legs and in his hair. He is trying to wipe it off but it is just going everywhere, and he looks so worried and embarassed and he won't make eye contact with me as I help him to the bathroom. I start to talk about my kids, and how my youngest one just learned how to crawl, and how when he crawls he looks like an inchworm. This grandpa starts to smile, and tells me about his 2 year old and how much he walks and talks. But I'm 22 and I don't have children yet, and he's 80 something and his kids are grown. His smile is so big and he tells me just how blue his baby's eyes are and how smart he is. He doesn't notice that I am leading him to the shower and sitting him on the shower chair that is designed so that he doesn't fall. He starts to laugh as he mentions how his wife always tells him that their son looks just like him and is just as stubborn. I engage him in this conversation for the 20 minutes it takes me to wash him. By the time we're done, he has said that his child was 2 years old, and then 5, and then a newborn. We get him out, dress him in clean clothes, and as he is shaving his own face, I change his bedding quickly so that he doesn't have to see me do it. I put his stuff in the washing machine and bring him a cup of coffee. He sits in his chair in his room and looks outside at the sunshine. I leave the door open with his permission and invite him to breakfast.
It is now only 7am. It's been an hour since I got here.
These people, your grandmas, your great-uncles, your favorite people... they are my people, too. I hug them when they're afraid, I comfort them when they're sad, I hold their hands if they're hurting, I bend over backwards just to get them to smile. I clean them up if they have an accident, I help them dress each and every morning. I tuck them into bed and kiss their foreheads. I wash their laundry and make their beds. I make their coffee and snacks. I clean their rooms so that they don't trip on something they've dropped. Sometimes they don't know me every day but I love them. Sometimes they think I am awful and am posioning the food I just put in front of them, and sometimes I am their sister and they just want me to paint their nails.
This is my every day. This is our life. These are my people. This is my job. “
