Paging Dr. Freud - !

Once again, I am in Vancouver and it is early morning just before sunrise. It is home I am headed for, garbed in an odd fur robe that does not cover my nakedness properly. Observing this, I try to get off the main road; possibly Oak and 14th or so but there is an obstacle. There is always an obstacle.

Impeding my path is a huge hedge that bars my way to the sidestreets. I cannot go through it as it is thick and girded with wire. Since I cannot jump it nor stumble through it I try to minimise myself under a shrub as a dark man with a possibly Jamaican accent walks his small white dog. Looking at my incredibly stupid fashion choice, I muse on the arts gala I have walked out on. Why did I walk out?

As always in such scenarios, no wisdom is gained from reflection. It makes no sense and is unlikely to morph into sensibleness through dissection. I got miffed and refused to compromise and naturally, had to leave. Since I did not have a car, I must walk home. And where is home? Why 49th and cambie of course. Therefor this must be the 80s. Since it is the 80s I must be loaded. If not why walk?

The sound assaulting my ears is "Fur Elise." I lurch up and vanish into the mists and back to my bed. Buggery dreams. If change is indicated, a variation of this dream occurs. Always I am lost or looking for home. Always my car, bus, train breaks down or I am walking hesitantly. Always I am thwarted in my journey.

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Now I am up and out the door and putting on medical stockings for those who cannot do it themselves. A few medications here, a catheter or two there and I am at the home of a very ill client where another worker awaits me. We are mystified as to how this person stays alive in a state where 99.9999% of others would be long and truly gone. A triumph of will I suppose. Soon I hope this will fades as the road from here on in is a black road. There will be no more comfort and there are no pleasant attractions. Bone on bone cracks as we position the client in the lift and transfer to the wheelchair. We do everything for this client but breathe. And it is not nearly enough.

Now I am out to the farthest arm of our area to a person in the endstages of cancer. There is no hospital bed, no transfer devices, no wheelchair but there are plenty of meds and an oxygen line that can circle the home 5 times. Another dominant spirit is residing in this client who is living every second until it is not possible. I hear that last night a tasty Galliano was enjoyed with the night dose of morphine. They look at me for a reaction.

Why the hell not? That's what I think. The worst thing that can possibly happen is that the client keels over from a drug interaction. Not a bad end considering what is the reality of their medical situation.

And so- home again ,home again where my doggie greets me royally. We walk up the hydro line and enjoy the crispness of the december day. A snack and a nap before another brief walk and I am off to the other job. It is a good life.

I've Got to Admit I'm Getting Better...

Today marked shift #2 on the new job. It was decidedly better than shift #1.
This would be mostly due to my trainer who is most excellent at leading by example.
This most excellent woman has been kind and correct and even "taught me how to google". I was mildly amused but t'was meant in the best of ways.

It is a source of minor irritation to me that I was unable to perform at maximum capacity. In my mind and the moment, I was rather hot and somewhat slower than necessary. In actual fact it was hellaciously hot in the dining room and everyone on staff felt it, including the teenage servers.

The thing that slows me down is the substitution list and the list of people who take various portion sizes. It is not rocket science but the delay in my brain recognition of a new pattern is substantial. Humbling how we learn, but deeply appreciable. I loved the moment when I realized I had almost got one of the big huge things down.

A woman like me who can tend the dying, brave wind and weather on behalf of my clients, meet pyschosis eye to eye and come out alive, hold hands with those meeting eternity and share both the calm and the exciting, daunted by a dining room. Kind of silly, huh.

But damned fun. I love this new job.

A Stable Clientelle

Any time, indeed every time I hear myself remarking on how stable my client list is I remember with a start what lays ahead. It means change looms imminently, and so I brace myself, hoping not to be too jarred by the tremors.

My list was stable. Two days a week every person I visited was well into their nineties. The same three ladies, my pretty maids all in a row, were on those days, one at a time of course. It was such an honour to stand in their company. I was the suckling pig, nursing wit and wisdom hungrily.

One tumbled and broke in three places. Her convalescence in a nursing home did not suit and she let go. One caught the flu and the flu caught her and away they flew together to neverland. The third, adamant that she would stay in her own home until the very end, heaved a great sigh, her last sigh and sank with a smile back unto her pillow, while in the other room her children noisily commented on what a burden Mother was. As that last breath exited her lungs, that smile, and the twinkle in her eyes was dazzling for an everlasting moment. I tucked her in and went home.

Change, she blows hard and we all bow down.

The Shuffle

Its sort of like the old disco dance the Hustle. A few jerky movements this way and that in a pattern and repeat! The dance we do is a strange one. We do not recognise the dance until we recognize the pattern, and that, generally. after the fact.

Just a month or so ago I was musing about how Mondays were my very special day with all of my clients being well in their 90s, and all happily living at home, mostly independently. Enter the shuffle. Two in hospital, one recently deceased, and now it is a new Monday of new people and new things.

Buggerit all anyway.

Inevitable.

Ahh this is the stuff. Lounging about 'til all hours in the warm late summer evenings.
It is the time of year we know we are the lucky ones living here.
We have the best beaches in Canada right at our doorstep. In our case its a 7 minute walk down the hill to that gorgeous panarama and worth every step. MMMmmmm, paradise.
Apparantly the secret is *out* as every piece of real estate climbs ever higher in price.

Tonight, after the ritual visit to the bulk food store for lentils and grains, my keen senses detected a new real estate " house for sale" sign on the lawns in front of our estates. Another of our 14 is on the block now. And -shudder- it is my neighbour.

When my little haven was built back in the late 70's, it was targeted towards single elderly folk who were still capable of stair climbing. It was low end stuff, with one bathroom and a teeny tiny cubbyhole kitchen. No gratuitous use of granite, no sweeping countertops and high end appliances. There is no garage, attached or otherwise, and the back yards are little squares of hopefulness. We got lucky in the grounds department as a visionary planted low maintenance heathers, rhododendrons and low growing cedars. It looks great and keeps the doggies out whilst providing a home for the grouse and quail populations. They duke it out with the hummingbirds.

The quaintness of our abodes is unique for this area where the main target buyers are seniors wanting one level homes. There are oodles of condominium projects, mostly gated, mostly way up over the $250k mark. Our little corner of heaven has sold for $190k recently. A scandalous amount in these greed-ridden times but without parallel. There is nothing else in our price ranger comparable. --nothing--

The last two units sold to young couples as a first home. Will my new neighbours be like this?
It has been nice these last few years living between two older retired ladies. One is a gardener who keeps convent hours (and lifestyle) and the other a traveller who dragon-boats around the globe with her mates.

Ah change. Inevitable.

Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes! (Turn and face the strain)

Oh look out you rock and rollers!

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Head in a spin, whirling with all the changes, I look around to my Office and see new faces in cubicles, old faces gone, and trainees trying to navigate the system.

A random act of kindness. OOO it was me who did it.
I saw a piece of paper at the bottom of the shiny new copier/everything machine, and noticed the label on top said "Line busy fax not send"

I looked at my co-worker who was waiting for the machine and said:
"If I were a good Samaritan I would resend this for her..."

Of course I did.
What was interesting to me is that the piece of paper had been sitting there for 24 hours. Other people use the machine. Everyone I work with can read. It was an application for an internal posting that this person had sent and left, thinking it was good.

Been fooled myself before too many times, too many ways, I never believe these machines until I have either a verification # or slip in my hot little hands.
So I duly stamped this little form and put it in her file.

Be interesting to see if she gets the job.
Hope so.

On the lighter side, I met two, count em TWO health care workers, one in Nursing one in Health Care Support who wanted to work the dreaded evening shift.

GO FOR IT!
They were both saying things like: Oh I dont know if I can get that posting... should I apply for it?

I didn't say it but I thought it:
"Honey NOONE bloody wants the damned posting thats why its posted yet AGAIN."

Evenings and nights for these women and men on those shifts are awful. High workload, lots of miles, and rarely quiet. It is de rigor to finish your shift on an adrenil high at midnite.

If they want it, give it to them. Happy people are productive people.

Scheduling ?

-*-

One of my two imminently palliative clients passed away just after I left his home.
Inquiring about the other I was told he was now receiving service BID.

Today he was on my list and with much trepidation I pulled into the driveway.
It seemed unthinkable he could have made it to today in the shape he was in.
The last visit he was still conscious but so very weak that even sipping water was a difficulty. As I left he had said to me: "That was something. You pushed me hard."

Now I am going to the door and thinking to myself: "No way."

I sneak a peak through the window and the hospital bed is gone and the living room back to normal. The wife sees me peering in and now I am committed to action.
O no!

Luckily, I am locquacious. Thankfully, I have chutzpah.
There is always something nice to say.
Ok I said nice things. It was regrettable that I was sent there in error but perhaps it was a divine moment. A divine appointment.

Some little thing I said touched that woman and as I left she called me back for a close embrace and through tears thanked me (again).
..

..........0

-=- More Changes -=-

With great sadness I have learned that the Nurse I identify with the most, has accepted a position far away from our Paradise but closer to her own.

She endeared herself to me permanently when I learned she backed up her spoken dedication to workplace wellness with actions. How I love to see management, oh pardon me, Management reaching out in equity and not down in imperiousness.
Aww, she will be so missed, *sniff*

Change change and more.
There has been entirely too much of it in our Region and now it is time for things to settle down. (please)

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Positively speaking, the gentle soul who daughter attended to him so lovingly got his wish and died in his own home. I am very happy for that.

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