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 |
I don't know how you do it! Great post Caitrin!
ReplyDelete