I think all forms of caring labor share this process to be truly humane and caring. Not the specifics, but the mental mindframe. This scenario is specific to the CNA job. What you will NOT hear in a CNA class or video with nice white ladies smiling and holding clean unsoiled bedpans.
What do you do when your resident's loose bowel movement or diarhoea spills all over the floor?
1) Is the resident in a safe position?
Call for help if you need assistance to transfer them into a safe position
Once resident is in safe position, resume the following
2) Don't panic. Turn away from the smell and take a deep breath. Your frame of mind is important for this to be a manageable task.
3) Ignore the call lights going off along the hall way. You can hear them beep and may feel stressed about the charge nurse running down the hall way to rush you. Your mind may also be unconsciously counting how many more residents you need to toilet before you clock out. For this moment, ignore that. Others can answer the call lights, or the residents can wait. None of that is your fault. You can deal with the consequences later.
4) Do not be stressed, do not rush, regardless of how many voices are going off in your head. Freeze those thoughts. Take your time, Remember too that diarhoea is a human process. It is not the residents' fault that this happened. Do not take out your anger and stress on your resident. Assure the resident that everything is OK. Keep a smile on your face if possible, crack a joke or something.
If working with a coworker, also make sure you do not take out your stress on them. They are equally frustrated. Always make sure to speak respectfully and not let stress make you into the manager you all hate. Best achieved under the mantra of "Take Your Time. No Need to Rush."
5) Do you have all your supplies for cleaning up this mess?
- Virex: disinfectant
- Wipes (and if Maintenance hasnt stocked them up cos they are trying to save on supplies, then use washcloths), lots and lots of them
- Bags for bagging soiled linen and diapers
- Protective gear (and if management has made them inaccessible to save on supplies, then try wearing night gowns meant for residents. If that is unavailable, then do not use protective gear)
6) Rinse wash cloth throughly with soap. Clean up mess. Use disinfectant.
If anytime during this process, the charge nurse knocks on your door to hurry you, say "Sorry, not now. I will be there as soon as I can."
If it is your coworker knocking to ask you to help out with a transfer, say "I am busy now. Can you help me with this so I can be done faster and I can go to help you?"
When done, ask housekeeper to clean up again with mop.
7) Change diaper on resident. Put them to bed if they do not look well. Take their vital signs
Report loose Bowel Movement or diarhoea to charge nurse.
8) Open windows to the room and use hella air freshener
This happens on average 2-3 times a week. And if they have C Diff, then god bless you!!!
Showing posts with label work life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label work life. Show all posts
Friday, June 24, 2011
Monday, June 20, 2011
P.S...
They revoked my write up today! After getting advice from my coworkers, S and R, who convinced me that I shouldnt just let it drop, I went to the main boss's office and said they were selectively enforcing the rules (on eating and facial expression and duration of time I took to take weights) and that I would go to the NLRB on them.
I already had an NLRB case open because of how they threatened to fire me for our organizing, so any evidence I have to prove that I am targetted by the bosses for such an action would just be troublesome for them.
Not threatening, just troublesome :(.
NLRB route isnt my ideal. But a worker's gotta keep their job even when movement activity is low...so there you go.
I'm bringing pie to celebrate tomorrow!! AND! I will eat it at the right place and right time:) AND! I will be making stinky faces and rolling my eyes till they drop at power-tripping charge nurse.
Till the next write-up,
peace!
I already had an NLRB case open because of how they threatened to fire me for our organizing, so any evidence I have to prove that I am targetted by the bosses for such an action would just be troublesome for them.
Not threatening, just troublesome :(.
NLRB route isnt my ideal. But a worker's gotta keep their job even when movement activity is low...so there you go.
I'm bringing pie to celebrate tomorrow!! AND! I will eat it at the right place and right time:) AND! I will be making stinky faces and rolling my eyes till they drop at power-tripping charge nurse.
Till the next write-up,
peace!
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
What to do when a resident sexually harasses?
We have a resident in the home who, in my opinion, has mild dementia and is mostly aware of his surroundings. He's been known to make unpleasant and unwarranted, offensive sexual advances to my other female coworkers, like: kissing people on the neck/cheek when he asks for a hug, or checking out people's butts in front of them, or commenting to other residents on how the female CNAs touch his dick and butt when we toilet him (won't go into details). It's all very inappropriate.
A new worker, an East African woman, just started work 2 weeks ago. When she left for her shift, he told my other male coworker, and asked: "Is she new? When is she going to give me pussy?"
The next day, the male worker told me the story, cracking up and laughing about it. He said, "X is funny, you know, he asked me yesterday etc etc..."
I was hella pissed. I told my coworker to report it to the nurse. He did, and he told me that the nurse responds saying, " Oh, dont take him seriously. He is confused." This convenient "suck it up, you are a healthcare worker" mentality is the same one I get when I approach them about the racial slurs some of our residents use.
Confused, my ass. He knows what he is talking about.
Another female CNA had asked the charge nurse to reassign him to a male CNA. The damn boss sits on it, always saying, "next time."
The only male CNA on our unit, whom X had confided in, isnt pro-active about it. Of course, because he doesnt want to switch. He has an easy load right now and doesnt want to take on X.
I told the new woman worker that when she works with him, she should always ask one of us to be there. To have a witness. How disgusting is it to be wiping someone's butt and dick cos you gotta clean them for your job, and actually have them be wanting something else? It feels disgusting.
One part of me recognizes that part of the oppression of institutionalized caging for people with disabilities is the regimentation of sexuality, or more realistically, the desexualization of people with disabilities and the elderly. That needs to change. But when some of the nurses use this logic as a semi-excuse to say that this resident's sexual harassment is acceptable, that's fucked up.
A new worker, an East African woman, just started work 2 weeks ago. When she left for her shift, he told my other male coworker, and asked: "Is she new? When is she going to give me pussy?"
The next day, the male worker told me the story, cracking up and laughing about it. He said, "X is funny, you know, he asked me yesterday etc etc..."
I was hella pissed. I told my coworker to report it to the nurse. He did, and he told me that the nurse responds saying, " Oh, dont take him seriously. He is confused." This convenient "suck it up, you are a healthcare worker" mentality is the same one I get when I approach them about the racial slurs some of our residents use.
Confused, my ass. He knows what he is talking about.
Another female CNA had asked the charge nurse to reassign him to a male CNA. The damn boss sits on it, always saying, "next time."
The only male CNA on our unit, whom X had confided in, isnt pro-active about it. Of course, because he doesnt want to switch. He has an easy load right now and doesnt want to take on X.
I told the new woman worker that when she works with him, she should always ask one of us to be there. To have a witness. How disgusting is it to be wiping someone's butt and dick cos you gotta clean them for your job, and actually have them be wanting something else? It feels disgusting.
One part of me recognizes that part of the oppression of institutionalized caging for people with disabilities is the regimentation of sexuality, or more realistically, the desexualization of people with disabilities and the elderly. That needs to change. But when some of the nurses use this logic as a semi-excuse to say that this resident's sexual harassment is acceptable, that's fucked up.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
awkward
this past week, i had a sudden realization when one of the dumbass charge nurses was complimenting us on how well we served our residents. (it's all hypocrisy cos the state is coming for evaluation soon and they need to make sure we look like we're doing a good job. There's no real love b/w us)
the condescending, patronizing, disgusting way she talks to me and my coworkers, are exactly like the way she talks to our residents!
"Oh wow! Look at how you remove the trays from under the plates!"
"Oh wow! Look at how you set up the dining room so nicely!"
"I knew you guys could do it!"
puke
am I a 5 year old?
There's a lot of food for thought.
the condescending, patronizing, disgusting way she talks to me and my coworkers, are exactly like the way she talks to our residents!
"Oh wow! Look at how you remove the trays from under the plates!"
"Oh wow! Look at how you set up the dining room so nicely!"
"I knew you guys could do it!"
puke
am I a 5 year old?
There's a lot of food for thought.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
"The fine line between abuse and neglect"
K Tree over at K. Tree, CNA blog had a post that I sort of resonate with, called "How Pushy is Too Pushy?"
This paragraph in particular:
- The state (the power that monopolizes any conversation about healthcare, safety, resident/patient rights) isn't serious about patient safety cos it switches so easily back and forth between Neglect and Abuse, with no understanding of the conditions and circumstances that we work under.
- The state with its wishy washy definitions of Neglect and Abuse become a tool of management to put down any workers dissent -- my own experience speaks to this.
- Makes healthcare workers feel like we always have to cover our ass -- it's a mentality, a mindset of needing to force residents to do stuff regardless of their own desire or will, because we need to NOT get into trouble. This leads to objectification of residents
- This is a deeply moral and ethical question and needs to be tackled as such through debate, discussion, clarifying the lines of debate between patient autonomy and healthcare institutions definitions of safety. In the absence of such debate, it becomes a very crass form of paternalism toward our residents/patients.
This paragraph in particular:
We're constantly walking a fine line between abuse and neglect. I don't care what you say, it's true. 40 minutes cajoling and slipping little bites of medicine in a resident's mouth could be construed as abuse. Not giving her the medication could be construed as neglect. Same thing with a resident who doesn't want to be bathed even though she clearly needs it. If you force her to be bathed, even with a bed bath, it could be abuse. If you let her lay in her own filth, you are guilty of neglect.I think this relates to the awful NY Times article I posted before. I think this fine line K.Tree is describing is really demoralizing for healthcare workers cos you get into this frame of mind that
- The state (the power that monopolizes any conversation about healthcare, safety, resident/patient rights) isn't serious about patient safety cos it switches so easily back and forth between Neglect and Abuse, with no understanding of the conditions and circumstances that we work under.
- The state with its wishy washy definitions of Neglect and Abuse become a tool of management to put down any workers dissent -- my own experience speaks to this.
- Makes healthcare workers feel like we always have to cover our ass -- it's a mentality, a mindset of needing to force residents to do stuff regardless of their own desire or will, because we need to NOT get into trouble. This leads to objectification of residents
- This is a deeply moral and ethical question and needs to be tackled as such through debate, discussion, clarifying the lines of debate between patient autonomy and healthcare institutions definitions of safety. In the absence of such debate, it becomes a very crass form of paternalism toward our residents/patients.
Friday, April 1, 2011
Tribute to B.F
One day, when I have time and some creative juices to spare, I want to write a fictionalized memoir about B.F, one of my favorite residents at the nursing home.
B.F. was E.G's room mate. Yesterday, E.G's passing was very emotional for B.F. We bonded over some heartfelt moments. B.F. is also one of the few residents who are alert in the long term care unit I work in. She is also one of the few Black residents in the nursing home. I want to pay tribute to this wonderful human being.
E.G, for what I believe are racial reasons, used to always think that B.F. was stealing her stuff. Part dementia, part racism. She would always say that "this strange woman in my room always takes my things."
Completely untrue. B.F. would confront her sometimes and ask, "Why do you always think that I steal from you? All your things are right here."
Among my co-workers, we would always say, it's because B.F. is Black, that's why E.G. always assumed that she had to be a thief. V, one of the housekeepers who is also Black, would always just point to her skin and say, "That's why." We would tell B.F, "E.G. had mental illness, and she doesnt know always what she is saying." Semi-true, but probably one of the effects that E.G's mental illness had on her was that she had no filters and would say what she thought.
We told the charge nurse that E.G. and B.F. should stop being roommates cos they were agitating each other. Of course that wasn't taken too seriously.
A few months ago, E.G. fell from her chair in her room. She had slipped while trying to transfer herself to bed. It was her room mate, B.F, who wheeled herself anxiously out into the hallway to call for help.
E.G. survived the fall with no serious injuries. From then on, everytime E.G. speculated about BF, I would tell her, "Don't say that about B, she saved your life!" To that, EG would always ask, "Really? How?" And I would remind her.
A few days before EG died, right when we were about the clear the dining room, BF wheeled herself next to EG and fed her. She had wheeled herself across the dining room to check on her roommate who was obviously not in good health. It's very touching to see one old lady in a wheelchair feeding another. We all paused in the dining room and watched this caring,loving moment unfold.
BF also always pushes the other residents who are unable to wheel themselves, down the hallway, from her own wheelchair. To check in on her friends, she would hold their hands and ask them how they are doing.
I always tell BF, "You are such a good person." She would always reply, "What else is there to be? It's the only thing I can do. God knows."
BF had shown me pictures of herself when she was younger. She was, and still is, a very beautiful woman. She had moved up to Seattle from Louisiana in her early twenties, got married and then left her husband. "I was better off without him," she would say without going into details. Since then, she raised her sons as a single mother working as a nanny in Seattle. She was independent and living with her son in Seattle until a fall a few years ago brought her into the nursing home.
I also always tell BF, "You're my favorite cos you so nice!" To which, she would reply, "You're my favorite cos you take good care of me."
A month ago, BF told me she was getting depressed. "I'm bored of being bored. I just go around and around this same place. I miss my house." She would describe the garden that she had back home, and point to the flowers that her neighbor brought on her visits. I tried talking with her about life, about her youth, her kids. I told the social worker, but apart form trying to get her to be involved in activities, there didnt seem much else to do. A nursing home is a depressing place to be. Cooped up, no place else to go, the same old grim hallway, waking up too early for breakfast, sleeping too early at night in the same old green gown, the same old sweet hot cocoa every morning...
Yesterday, BF's son came to visit. BF introduced him to me for the third time, likely having forgotten that we had been introduced before.
She stopped me along the hallway.
"This is my son," she pointed to the grown 50 year-old looking man with one hand, and the other holding mine.
And to him, she said,
"This is my baby son. My favorite."
It was a precious moment for me.
Wrapped up in the whole emotionally funky state I was in yesterday, I couldnt respond or engage. I just smiled and walked off.
I didnt know if the first thing to cross his mind would be about the mistaken gender identification (which I really didnt care for), or whether it would be acknowledging and appreciating the relationship that his mother and I had built in the strange circumstances of this institution.
Much love and respect to BF.
B.F. was E.G's room mate. Yesterday, E.G's passing was very emotional for B.F. We bonded over some heartfelt moments. B.F. is also one of the few residents who are alert in the long term care unit I work in. She is also one of the few Black residents in the nursing home. I want to pay tribute to this wonderful human being.
E.G, for what I believe are racial reasons, used to always think that B.F. was stealing her stuff. Part dementia, part racism. She would always say that "this strange woman in my room always takes my things."
Completely untrue. B.F. would confront her sometimes and ask, "Why do you always think that I steal from you? All your things are right here."
Among my co-workers, we would always say, it's because B.F. is Black, that's why E.G. always assumed that she had to be a thief. V, one of the housekeepers who is also Black, would always just point to her skin and say, "That's why." We would tell B.F, "E.G. had mental illness, and she doesnt know always what she is saying." Semi-true, but probably one of the effects that E.G's mental illness had on her was that she had no filters and would say what she thought.
We told the charge nurse that E.G. and B.F. should stop being roommates cos they were agitating each other. Of course that wasn't taken too seriously.
A few months ago, E.G. fell from her chair in her room. She had slipped while trying to transfer herself to bed. It was her room mate, B.F, who wheeled herself anxiously out into the hallway to call for help.
E.G. survived the fall with no serious injuries. From then on, everytime E.G. speculated about BF, I would tell her, "Don't say that about B, she saved your life!" To that, EG would always ask, "Really? How?" And I would remind her.
A few days before EG died, right when we were about the clear the dining room, BF wheeled herself next to EG and fed her. She had wheeled herself across the dining room to check on her roommate who was obviously not in good health. It's very touching to see one old lady in a wheelchair feeding another. We all paused in the dining room and watched this caring,loving moment unfold.
BF also always pushes the other residents who are unable to wheel themselves, down the hallway, from her own wheelchair. To check in on her friends, she would hold their hands and ask them how they are doing.
I always tell BF, "You are such a good person." She would always reply, "What else is there to be? It's the only thing I can do. God knows."
BF had shown me pictures of herself when she was younger. She was, and still is, a very beautiful woman. She had moved up to Seattle from Louisiana in her early twenties, got married and then left her husband. "I was better off without him," she would say without going into details. Since then, she raised her sons as a single mother working as a nanny in Seattle. She was independent and living with her son in Seattle until a fall a few years ago brought her into the nursing home.
I also always tell BF, "You're my favorite cos you so nice!" To which, she would reply, "You're my favorite cos you take good care of me."
A month ago, BF told me she was getting depressed. "I'm bored of being bored. I just go around and around this same place. I miss my house." She would describe the garden that she had back home, and point to the flowers that her neighbor brought on her visits. I tried talking with her about life, about her youth, her kids. I told the social worker, but apart form trying to get her to be involved in activities, there didnt seem much else to do. A nursing home is a depressing place to be. Cooped up, no place else to go, the same old grim hallway, waking up too early for breakfast, sleeping too early at night in the same old green gown, the same old sweet hot cocoa every morning...
Yesterday, BF's son came to visit. BF introduced him to me for the third time, likely having forgotten that we had been introduced before.
She stopped me along the hallway.
"This is my son," she pointed to the grown 50 year-old looking man with one hand, and the other holding mine.
And to him, she said,
"This is my baby son. My favorite."
It was a precious moment for me.
Wrapped up in the whole emotionally funky state I was in yesterday, I couldnt respond or engage. I just smiled and walked off.
I didnt know if the first thing to cross his mind would be about the mistaken gender identification (which I really didnt care for), or whether it would be acknowledging and appreciating the relationship that his mother and I had built in the strange circumstances of this institution.
Much love and respect to BF.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Lingering thoughts
Thinking through this day.
A. (another coworker of mine whom I have referenced in this blog), who is alone in the US, with 7 kids and his wife in distant Ethiopia, who infamously works 100 hours a week in 2 jobs, started crying in the break room today. Last week, his friend had died in a car accident unexpectedly, and I think E.G's death today hit him in the way that sometimes deaths around you make you wonder about your own life and its significance.
S., another coworker whom I also respect hella, was being all cynical about it.
"You are sad cos she wasn't a maxi lift," she said half-jokingly. "She went because this was the reason why she came."
Because EG was able to stand, she didnt require the laborious maxi lift everytime we needed to toilet her.
I know S. wasnt completely serious. I know that a part of it is to think of our residents in this way of, how much work do they require from us, because it's the easier way to think about being surrounded by people who are dying, and us needing to be detached.
But it also struck me that it was an objectifying way of thinking about our residents. I have thought of our residents like this too. But in grieving for this person who just passed, so much came out in how we process death, process our work and our emotions on a daily basis.
When the morgue came to take her body, many of us lined up to sing "Amazing Grace." It's my workplace's standard farewell practice.
But except for me, none of the people sending her away were CNAs. They were all office administrators who had very clearly been called out to stand in procession. My other coworkers were busy with their work, not having been told of this procession, this farewell.
It is so ironic. That us, who felt the closest to this person because we had toiletted her, bathed her, fed her, in the intimate ways one can support another living being, were, whether intentionally or not, excluded form her farewell and instead, those administrators, who had devalued this person's life by cutting our labor, dismissing our work, hurrying us, stood today to bid farewell.
I know this is not very articulate. Maybe at another time I can express this sentiment better. But I felt sad and trapped. That even in death, our work goes unacknowledged, our emotions, unrecognized and undervalued, struggling to compete with objectification.
A. (another coworker of mine whom I have referenced in this blog), who is alone in the US, with 7 kids and his wife in distant Ethiopia, who infamously works 100 hours a week in 2 jobs, started crying in the break room today. Last week, his friend had died in a car accident unexpectedly, and I think E.G's death today hit him in the way that sometimes deaths around you make you wonder about your own life and its significance.
S., another coworker whom I also respect hella, was being all cynical about it.
"You are sad cos she wasn't a maxi lift," she said half-jokingly. "She went because this was the reason why she came."
Because EG was able to stand, she didnt require the laborious maxi lift everytime we needed to toilet her.
I know S. wasnt completely serious. I know that a part of it is to think of our residents in this way of, how much work do they require from us, because it's the easier way to think about being surrounded by people who are dying, and us needing to be detached.
But it also struck me that it was an objectifying way of thinking about our residents. I have thought of our residents like this too. But in grieving for this person who just passed, so much came out in how we process death, process our work and our emotions on a daily basis.
When the morgue came to take her body, many of us lined up to sing "Amazing Grace." It's my workplace's standard farewell practice.
But except for me, none of the people sending her away were CNAs. They were all office administrators who had very clearly been called out to stand in procession. My other coworkers were busy with their work, not having been told of this procession, this farewell.
It is so ironic. That us, who felt the closest to this person because we had toiletted her, bathed her, fed her, in the intimate ways one can support another living being, were, whether intentionally or not, excluded form her farewell and instead, those administrators, who had devalued this person's life by cutting our labor, dismissing our work, hurrying us, stood today to bid farewell.
I know this is not very articulate. Maybe at another time I can express this sentiment better. But I felt sad and trapped. That even in death, our work goes unacknowledged, our emotions, unrecognized and undervalued, struggling to compete with objectification.
R.I.P
One of my favorite residents passed away today.
E.G, Rest In Peace.
I have so many memories of E. from the past year of being her CNA. E. was super talkative, and was a "farmer's daughter from Ashland Wisconsin," as she would say, which explains why she loves drinking milk.
I remember my most recent memory of her was when my coworker and I were talking in anticipation of the weekend, saying
me: It's my Friday today!
N (my coworker): It's my Thursday, one more day to go!
E (whose wheelchair I am pushing): It's my Tuesday today!
(and then she cracks up, knowing full well that she was clueless about what was going on)
We were cracking up so much cos she was so funny, so adorable, and so friendly.
She could never get over the pull-up diapers and called them the "fancy panties" that she'd buy for herself when she moved "back home to Seattle." I dont know if she knew where she was.
I don't know what it is, but with E., so many of us had grown attached to her jokes and her demeanor. Always waiting for her kids to come (and they did come, just not as often as she thought they did, or wanted them to!), always talking about her hometown in Wisconsin, always talking about how her mom taught her to wash her hands after the bathroom, and how she felt wasteful for using more than 1 paper towel to wipe her hands till she saw me using 3 and didn't feel so bad after that, how she just always had that grin on her face when she saw us cos she knew she was the popular kid in the lunchroom. How dementia didnt yet take away that naughty gleam in her eyes.
Perhaps more importantly for me, as my mind often drifted into dwelling on the sadness and sense of loss that I have felt in the past year, E.'s voice breaking the monotone of my thoughts, asking me for this, or that, to go to the bathroom, or to get ice cream, or what, always brought me back to the present. Brought me back to the silent, humbling joy I felt for being able to do something for someone who needs it, in a very bare bones sort of way, in a very concrete and unpretentious sort of way, to be useful, as one life supporting another.
Till the past week, as she began to lose her alertness and her face sagged, unable to hold together her grin, mouth drooping, and her health declining, and she started to whimper "Mama, mama" every few minutes with her eyes barely open, me feeding her between her sporadic waking moments...It all happened very fast.
Maybe I needed her presence in my life, more than she knew, and more than I knew.
R.I.P
E.G
E.G, Rest In Peace.
I have so many memories of E. from the past year of being her CNA. E. was super talkative, and was a "farmer's daughter from Ashland Wisconsin," as she would say, which explains why she loves drinking milk.
I remember my most recent memory of her was when my coworker and I were talking in anticipation of the weekend, saying
me: It's my Friday today!
N (my coworker): It's my Thursday, one more day to go!
E (whose wheelchair I am pushing): It's my Tuesday today!
(and then she cracks up, knowing full well that she was clueless about what was going on)
We were cracking up so much cos she was so funny, so adorable, and so friendly.
She could never get over the pull-up diapers and called them the "fancy panties" that she'd buy for herself when she moved "back home to Seattle." I dont know if she knew where she was.
I don't know what it is, but with E., so many of us had grown attached to her jokes and her demeanor. Always waiting for her kids to come (and they did come, just not as often as she thought they did, or wanted them to!), always talking about her hometown in Wisconsin, always talking about how her mom taught her to wash her hands after the bathroom, and how she felt wasteful for using more than 1 paper towel to wipe her hands till she saw me using 3 and didn't feel so bad after that, how she just always had that grin on her face when she saw us cos she knew she was the popular kid in the lunchroom. How dementia didnt yet take away that naughty gleam in her eyes.
Perhaps more importantly for me, as my mind often drifted into dwelling on the sadness and sense of loss that I have felt in the past year, E.'s voice breaking the monotone of my thoughts, asking me for this, or that, to go to the bathroom, or to get ice cream, or what, always brought me back to the present. Brought me back to the silent, humbling joy I felt for being able to do something for someone who needs it, in a very bare bones sort of way, in a very concrete and unpretentious sort of way, to be useful, as one life supporting another.
Till the past week, as she began to lose her alertness and her face sagged, unable to hold together her grin, mouth drooping, and her health declining, and she started to whimper "Mama, mama" every few minutes with her eyes barely open, me feeding her between her sporadic waking moments...It all happened very fast.
Maybe I needed her presence in my life, more than she knew, and more than I knew.
R.I.P
E.G
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
The 2 faces of a healthcare worker
A friend had just sent me this article, At State-Run Homes, Abuse and Impunity
It is a recent report by New York Times on the state of nursing homes/state institutions in NY State.
Can I just say how fucking annoying it is that healthcare workers are just depicted in this unbelievable simplistic dichotomy that is also so horrifically and annoyingly gendered??
That either you are the SAINT -- Florence Nightingale figure who would pour your heart and soul out to your patients with no sense of self and probably also be the world's biggest snitch on all your coworkers and be the Super CNA/LPN/RN etc etc ,
OR
You are the lazy, incorrigible, immoral, violent, reprehensible ex-paedophile/rapist/porn-addict???
How about giving us more humane faces? That, maybe most of us happen to be like every other person in the world who is trying to do the right thing but fails sometimes, either cos of moral shortcomings in stressful situations, accidents, or...an awfully stressful and overworked job where you are told to SUCK IT UP, ALWAYS!
I am too tired now to write a whole polished essay and response to the article above so I am just gonna jot down some quick points
1) Stench of union-busting -- blame the workers and their unions for all the tribulatins that happen at work -- maybe, privatized institutions/nursing homes, would do a better job at preventing abuses if the unions didnt get in the way??
2) Please -- there is a difference between healthcare workers who RAPE vulnerable residents, and healthcare workers who are too overworked, too underpaid, to change the soiled briefs of their residents every 2 hours. Please acknowledge the difference in severity!!!!
Also NOTE the hyperbole: I bet you that what the article meant by "leaving the residents in their feces" was a hyperbolic way of saying that the briefs werent changed every 2 hours. But the conjured image is...terribly different!!!
3) I never got any training at work for dealing with residents who are racist, sexist, violent etc. I know its not right to ever hit someone who is more vulnerable than you, but, really, trust me, there is also a time for self defense at work when you are working with some residents who have severe mental illness, who sometimes have outbursts of anger and violence!!! I am not excusing gratuitious violence, but
---> recognize healthcare workers' need for self defense
----> we need training for how to work with the people we work with!! I didnt even learn any techniques for de-escalation at work. If I didnt have a supportive network of co workers, I would just be swallowing the insulting shit that some of the residents hurl at us, and! if someone snaps cos of everyday exposure to that, I honestly can understand it!!!
But,this is a labor condition, a working condition. It's not just whether we are good/moral or immoral/evil people. Stop individualizing society's trauma on healthcare workers!!!!
Sorry for such a rant. Too tired to edit :P
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
More random notes on Abolish Nursing Home
1) My work in itself, is not what I find most degrading. I understand that every society needs people to care for the elderly and people with disabilities, and in a different world, this could be a valued and much appreciated job. As strange as this sounds, poop cleaning doesnt disturb me very much -- I have seen many different brownie explosions and it doesnt surprise me as it did the first day at work, where I stood, frozen, thinking "I can't believe I am seeing this!"
2) What is degrading is that we are rushed doing this work. That you can be cleaning up the messiest brownie explosion and then having the nurse breathe down your neck and wonder why you are taking such a long time.
3) I often think about my residents well beings and even though it creates extra work for me which I could get away with not doing, I do it cos I like knowing that my residents arent soaked in soiled underwear etc etc.
4) That said, I hate it when the bosses try to tell me this is the way to think. All my coworkers and I hate it when the charge nurse tries to drum the need to care for our residents, into us. It's not just cause they lie -- ie if they cared for the residents so much then they'd actually hire more people to do the work, but because we have no self determination in owning and carrying out the values.
5) "You always have a choice," is what the bosses also tell us. This is an idealist application of our self determination.
For the workers, our self determination: ie. our ability to enact and practice our values, is both an expression of humanity, as well as something that is determined by our material conditions, ie being short on time
I am writing this to get at the question:
are nursing homes reformable if they were ran by non-ableist workers self management? would that make practicing good, humane care, more achievable?
or, are these institutions just...bad bad bad!! inevitably!!!
Sunday, March 20, 2011
notes on Abolish Nursing Homes
Lack of self determination can cause you your life.
I learn this by watching the residents. And am put in that position as someone who has to impose restraint and deprive people of their self determination, in the name of safety.
And, because we are short staffed and overworked.
You objectify people when you no longer are able to see them in a human light.
When your working conditions force you to move from one person to another like they are poop-oozing robots, not living human beings.
This is very scary.
Autonomy, or safety?
Everyone who works at a nursing home says: I would rather die than live in one of these death farms when I am old.
Because institutionalization is awful and it can never be really reformed. At least not under capitalist standards, not under the demand for profit and cost-cutting measures.
The state tries to reform nursing homes, when they know that it is impossible to do it. And they try to enforce/make themselves look better by doing sporadic checks. But as my boss says: You (CNAs) better work well in front of the State, cos you know, the shit always rolls down."
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Nursing Home Workers Speak
An experiment.
Trying to talk about this w my coworkers
It's been a mixed bag and I am not sure if I am not doing it well, or that having a newsletter written by a coworker seems to be a strange/weird concept...
People keep switching what they think about organizing. One week being gung ho and then the next being wary/conservative about it. I understand how its because of a fear of repression but its very frustrating for me!!
i am trying to figure out ways to share community w my coworkers that doesnt center only on politics and organizing, to build trust. But when there isnt an established habit of hanging out/given that folks have kids they have to go home to take care of, it's hard...
I continue to try!
Trying to talk about this w my coworkers
It's been a mixed bag and I am not sure if I am not doing it well, or that having a newsletter written by a coworker seems to be a strange/weird concept...
People keep switching what they think about organizing. One week being gung ho and then the next being wary/conservative about it. I understand how its because of a fear of repression but its very frustrating for me!!
i am trying to figure out ways to share community w my coworkers that doesnt center only on politics and organizing, to build trust. But when there isnt an established habit of hanging out/given that folks have kids they have to go home to take care of, it's hard...
I continue to try!
Saturday, January 22, 2011
update 1/22/2011
Havent written in a long time cos real life world was sort of really tumultuous.
I decided to leave a group that I had been a part of for 5 years. It was for both personal and political reasons. I hope to put out something formal and public about this resignation soon. What matters is that for the past 4/5 months I had been stuck in a emotionally and mentally draining state of mind because of organizational lack of transparency, miscommunication and mistrust among members. It culminated into a poisonous and unhealthy atmosphere for me. When I asked for space to discuss/asked for support for my workplace organizing (which was an attempt to implement our class struggle politics, in practice), because this was completely new for me and I needed help navigating this new political project, I was accused of many unpleasant things. Zero support from a revolutionary organization that claims to be for class struggle at the point of production. There is a difference between theory and practice. For my own mental and emotional well being, I had to let go. The group that had once been my source of political strength had now became a burden that sucked my energies dry and led me into self-doubt and confusion in a very unconstructive way. We'll see where this road takes me. I still believe in revolutionary organization. Still believe in class struggle politics, in gender liberation and anti-racism and disabilities justice, and all the good hard things. Organization is a home that revolutionaries belong to. I left this one. It is sad and painful. But I need to be moving forward, moving, moving. I hope to build another home, another organization.
At work, I am just trying to survive the everyday now. I got a target on my back everyday and even when I am working constantly and getting the job done, the first words out of my nurse's mouth are always to imply that I am lazy or stupid. It is a daily wearing down. That's because they want to see me run around like a mad dog, taking their orders enthusiastically and rushing to get them done, skipping breaks if necessary. But I walk along the hallways, not run, and make sure to take my breaks. I talk back not for the sake of it (though that would be a good reason too!), but cos I wont let them blame all their shit on me or my coworkers, or stay silent when they contradict themselves in the same sentence and try to bamboozle us with their English. They hate me for being literate, and for being able to speak English.
This time round, the struggle feels more alone. They have intimidated so many of my coworkers. I keep telling myself not to stick out like a sore thumb cos then my head gets chopped off first. But I can't shut up cos they keep fucking up and trying to pin shit on me and my coworkers. Ahhh!
At some point, I want to write more about my supervisor/nurse, who is also ethnic Chinese and speaks Mandarin, like myself (though she is from a different country from me). She plays patronage/ethnic politics with me and I hate it. We are the only people who speak Mandarin in the workplace, which is predominantly Filipino and Ethiopian. The 2 sides of patronage politics are that it tries on the one hand to give people involved a way up the ladder/special treatment, but on the other hand, is based completely on familiar/familial ties and thus lends to abusiveness. Urgh. My nurse yells at me in Chinese, where nobody can understand, and tells me I am dumb and lazy. She thinks she can do that with me because we are both Chinese and she is "helping me learn." But damn! I am a fucking CNA, not a nursing student! And she can't shirk her own responsibilities on the job under the pretext of wanting me to learn the ropes! I already have hella work to do and I dont need to do hers too! I respond in English and tell her I dont want to speak in Chinese with her anymore. Dont give me any of that "we are one people" kinda bull. It's all on her terms and I want none of that game with flimsy rules. Call me naive. I'd take that over being so politically savvy that I get caught in a fucking web and can't figure out who I am. That's also it for any recommendations from this damn place for new jobs/nursing school. She was my one ally in management. But the woman kept trying to play it like she was doing me a favor when I know! I am a good worker.
It all started when one day, when we were short, I told her firmly I wouldnt be able to get the job done on time. Politely, but firmly. And she said I gotta change my attitude and whether we are short or not, she wants me to be enthusiastic and have a great attitude -- which means I need to run around, and not *look* relaxed.
One small thing led to another. She started telling me (and fucking stressing the shit out of me) that her boss always asks her about my work, about my attitude, whether I fuck up, and she says she "covers for me." She doesnt know shit about the organizing that I have been involved in, and so she thinks that management legitimately hates me for some good reason, and she, being my fellow Chinese, does her comradely duty as a supervisor by "covering for me."
There's more to write. Will continue another time. For now, I just wished we had a Tunisia moment here at my work so all this pent up anger can come out in some way.
I decided to leave a group that I had been a part of for 5 years. It was for both personal and political reasons. I hope to put out something formal and public about this resignation soon. What matters is that for the past 4/5 months I had been stuck in a emotionally and mentally draining state of mind because of organizational lack of transparency, miscommunication and mistrust among members. It culminated into a poisonous and unhealthy atmosphere for me. When I asked for space to discuss/asked for support for my workplace organizing (which was an attempt to implement our class struggle politics, in practice), because this was completely new for me and I needed help navigating this new political project, I was accused of many unpleasant things. Zero support from a revolutionary organization that claims to be for class struggle at the point of production. There is a difference between theory and practice. For my own mental and emotional well being, I had to let go. The group that had once been my source of political strength had now became a burden that sucked my energies dry and led me into self-doubt and confusion in a very unconstructive way. We'll see where this road takes me. I still believe in revolutionary organization. Still believe in class struggle politics, in gender liberation and anti-racism and disabilities justice, and all the good hard things. Organization is a home that revolutionaries belong to. I left this one. It is sad and painful. But I need to be moving forward, moving, moving. I hope to build another home, another organization.
At work, I am just trying to survive the everyday now. I got a target on my back everyday and even when I am working constantly and getting the job done, the first words out of my nurse's mouth are always to imply that I am lazy or stupid. It is a daily wearing down. That's because they want to see me run around like a mad dog, taking their orders enthusiastically and rushing to get them done, skipping breaks if necessary. But I walk along the hallways, not run, and make sure to take my breaks. I talk back not for the sake of it (though that would be a good reason too!), but cos I wont let them blame all their shit on me or my coworkers, or stay silent when they contradict themselves in the same sentence and try to bamboozle us with their English. They hate me for being literate, and for being able to speak English.
This time round, the struggle feels more alone. They have intimidated so many of my coworkers. I keep telling myself not to stick out like a sore thumb cos then my head gets chopped off first. But I can't shut up cos they keep fucking up and trying to pin shit on me and my coworkers. Ahhh!
At some point, I want to write more about my supervisor/nurse, who is also ethnic Chinese and speaks Mandarin, like myself (though she is from a different country from me). She plays patronage/ethnic politics with me and I hate it. We are the only people who speak Mandarin in the workplace, which is predominantly Filipino and Ethiopian. The 2 sides of patronage politics are that it tries on the one hand to give people involved a way up the ladder/special treatment, but on the other hand, is based completely on familiar/familial ties and thus lends to abusiveness. Urgh. My nurse yells at me in Chinese, where nobody can understand, and tells me I am dumb and lazy. She thinks she can do that with me because we are both Chinese and she is "helping me learn." But damn! I am a fucking CNA, not a nursing student! And she can't shirk her own responsibilities on the job under the pretext of wanting me to learn the ropes! I already have hella work to do and I dont need to do hers too! I respond in English and tell her I dont want to speak in Chinese with her anymore. Dont give me any of that "we are one people" kinda bull. It's all on her terms and I want none of that game with flimsy rules. Call me naive. I'd take that over being so politically savvy that I get caught in a fucking web and can't figure out who I am. That's also it for any recommendations from this damn place for new jobs/nursing school. She was my one ally in management. But the woman kept trying to play it like she was doing me a favor when I know! I am a good worker.
It all started when one day, when we were short, I told her firmly I wouldnt be able to get the job done on time. Politely, but firmly. And she said I gotta change my attitude and whether we are short or not, she wants me to be enthusiastic and have a great attitude -- which means I need to run around, and not *look* relaxed.
One small thing led to another. She started telling me (and fucking stressing the shit out of me) that her boss always asks her about my work, about my attitude, whether I fuck up, and she says she "covers for me." She doesnt know shit about the organizing that I have been involved in, and so she thinks that management legitimately hates me for some good reason, and she, being my fellow Chinese, does her comradely duty as a supervisor by "covering for me."
There's more to write. Will continue another time. For now, I just wished we had a Tunisia moment here at my work so all this pent up anger can come out in some way.
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