The Real McCoy

Still in the subacute rehab center....

I took care of a lady named Lisa who had a developmental delay, as did her husband who came to visit everyday.  They were quite cute and you could tell they really loved each other.  Lisa, however didn't so much love to follow the rules, neither did her husband.  She had an issue with her stomach, if she ate junk food, or fatty food, she would almost always throw it up.  Her body just couldn't handle it.  Despite multiple requests from the staff to her husband to stop bringing her junk food, he would continue to bring it in.  Cheetos were Lisa's weakness and he always made sure she had a full supply.  Maybe we should have had him clean up the puke a time or two...just saying.  Lisa didn't seem to care, she would just laugh and ask to be cleaned up.  Cheeto & root beer puke is absolutely disgusting, in case you had any doubts.  She also knew what a big deal it was for the nurses to have a patient fall during your shift.  The state monitors falls and we go to great lengths to keep people from falling, from bed alarms, chair alarms, medication reviews, low beds, and mats on the floor next to the bed.  About once a week, after the CNA's put Lisa to bed...she would start rocking herself back and forth, back and forth, until eventually she would roll herself off the bed and onto the mats on the floor.  The nurses and CNA's would come running in hearing her bed alarm going off, and she would just laugh and laugh at all the paperwork we had to fill out, and she would cheer when we would use the mechanical lift to get her off the floor and back to bed.  I offered to put her in the lift almost every time I worked, just to let her have a ride, but she said, "no, it's more fun the way I do it."  I guess we all have to get our kicks somewhere.

There was one very unique patient that I will never forget.  Rikki lived directly across the nurses station and kept me more busy then any patient I've ever had.  She was bed bound, unless we used the lift to move from the bed to her chair.  She was a huge fan of her call light, and used it better than anyone I've ever known.  She had a friend who would come to visit almost daily, and finally I figured out that she was her partner & friend.   Rikki would not give anyone but her primary nurse the time of day, and eventually I became the primary nurse on her hall.  Things started off great, I learned how she liked her room and table set up, how she liked to take her meds in different ways depending on the time of day, how she liked the lotion put on her legs, the list goes on and on.  I knew she was a little confused at baseline, so I went along with it, but then things started getting a little weird.  She was always asking me questions about my personal life, and I was pretty good at deflecting them back to her, but one day I slipped up and mentioned I had a tail light out on my car and she wanted to know the make/model of my car.  I didn't think it was a big deal, so I told her.  The next day I find out she had been calling the Toyota dealership yelling at them for the poor service I received with my car.  I didn't even buy my car there.  I guess you could say this was the start of her "interest" in me.  As the summer went on, she would only refer to me as "her girl."  At first it was kind of nice, knowing that she really liked the care I gave her and that she trusted me so much.  But then she started refusing to take medications or dressing changes from anyone else, despite my best persuasion efforts.  She was starting to ask her CNA's if I had a boyfriend, and to pass little notes (that were barely legible) along to me, even though I was in her room about 100 times a day.  Over the months she would always mention that she had "the Real McCoy" and to stop by her room if I ever wanted any.  I never really knew what she meant and would usually laugh it off with a "the Real McCoy huh?  We'll see!"  But one day she was especially persistent and told me to come back to her room after my shift to see the "Real McCoy."  So I stopped by, and she starts digging around in her bed and around her tummy area (mind you, she never wore pants, only her t-shirt top and briefs in her bed) and she pulls out four mini vodka bottles....scoots over in her bed....taps the bed gesturing me to get in....and asks if I would like a shot of "the real McCoy to get rid of my nerves."  It took me a second to put it all together, an 80+ year old bed-bound woman, asking me to take shots so I can get into bed with her.  I turned beat red, said "sorry I have to get home." And peaced out.  There really are no words.

The Real McCoy

Still Tickin'

I worked through my second year of nursing school as an LPN at a subacute rehab/long term care center.  Now I know that a lot of these places have a bad rap, but this place was nice, very clean, and had staff that had been working there for years and years.  It was a pretty sweet gig.  I liked working evenings (2-10:30) because it was a little more mellow and it worked with my school schedule.  After finishing school I worked here until I got my "big break" at a hospital in a bigger city a couple hours away.  Here are some resident highlights...

We had a lady who was basically a hermit, she would rarely come out of her room and she hated most of the staff.  She would usually throw her pills on the floor when I set them in her room and tell me to get out.  She was pissed off at her daughter for putting her in there, can't really blame the lady.  My favorite memory of her was on a rare appearance when she ate dinner in the main dining room.  As she wheeled by after dinner, I told her I would bring her pills into her soon.  I was standing with another nurse passing our meds.  As she wheeled off I hear her down the hall say, "Bitches" (in her Spanish accent) followed by an evil cackle.  I'm not sure if I've ever been called a bitch by an 80 year old before.  First time for everything right?

Then there was Marianne who would come out of her room every morning with her lipstick painted on from her chin to her nostrils, and her eyebrows going in various directions.  She would come out of her room singing at the top of her lungs every day, only after using her rain stick to "calm her nerves."  A staff member who had worked there forever called Marianne "Lips."  I would loose it every time she called her that, it just seemed so wrong, but Marianne loved it and she was the only one who could call her that.  To my future children...please get my makeup tattooed if anyone starts calling me Lips.

A very special resident who had lived there for a long time, who had a developmental delay, could always find a way to make my day better.  He is about 6'5" and looks very young for his age because of his delay.  He would collect every aluminum can from staff and residents, then once a month he would take them to the recycling center to get a little money.  His friend that would pick him up would always take him to McDonalds afterward for a cheeseburger and a hamburger.  He would look forward to it all month.  He would also draw pictures from his coloring books for all the staff, I have a small pile of all the pictures he's given me over the year I worked there.  :)  Every morning he would go around the dining room and collect all the residents clothing protectors (I would watch him through the windows while I was passing meds).  Then he would sanitize his hands, and make his way with his walker over to my med cart.  He would pull up right next to me, sit on his walker, and grab the spare stethoscope I would keep for him on my cart.   I would put my stethoscope in my ears, and he would put his in his.  I would listen to my heart, and he would tap his stethoscope with his fingers.  Then we would smile at each other and say, "still tickin" :)

More to come... :)