Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Archive for the ‘Geriatric Jump Suit’ Category

“Give me one!”- There is a resident that has officially taken over my nickname “DeManda.” All during mealtimes, tv time, anytime, this particular gemstone of an 80+ year old demands things of me in the loudest, most monotone voice I’ve ever heard! (Similar to this.) She loves to yell “Give me one!” or “I want one” and will keep yelling until I decipher what particular thing she wants and have safely delivered it to her clutches. Typically her demands are in reference to a new bowl of cereal, a spoon, or a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Most humorously, DeManda often yells, “I want a lollipop!” I have no idea what her affinity for lollipops is all about but, I can honestly say that she is single-handedly keeping the Dum Dum lollipop business recession-proof! On this particular day, one of the volunteers, Bill, came in with his puppy, Daisy. The residents love when the little dogs come to the nursing home and especially when Bill puts the dogs in their laps to get a great arthritic pet-job. Often times, Bill will give the residents treats to give to the dogs. DeManda naturally demanded a dog treat to give to Daisy and after Bill gave it to her, he turned to chat with me about one thing or another. When we turned around, we caught denture-less DeManda vigorously chomping away at the imitation bacon bonanza!  I should have known better. When asked how it was, Demanda reported,”it was delicious” in her scary yell-talk voice.

Black M.F.- One of the residents on my caseload has had multiple strokes (5+). He is also in the late stages of dementia (GDS = 7 for you Global Deterioration Scale users) and is predominantly nonverbal. He requires total nursing care, meaning he is bed-bound with very limited mobility. Despite his limited mobility and seemingly nonverbal characteristics, he sure gets his point across by yelling a bunch of nonsense syllables towards me when I come in to feed him his feast of a pureed diet with pudding thick liquid. After I position him as upright as possible to make him safe for eating, things really heat up and he yells sweet-nothings at me consisting of calling me an S.O.B. Sometimes if I’m really lucky, he’ll call me an M.F.S.O.B. (Who’s jealous of my serene work environment?) I’m pretty much unphased by it. I’m actually impressed that the guy can get anything out, given the number of strokes he’s had! Recently he has started calling me a black M.F. which is confusing for everyone! Well, one day he was really going to town swearing at me, so I remembered what my boss said about some study that reports patients with dementia really enjoying music, most notably songs such as, “Take me out to the Ballgame” and “You are my Sunshine.” I want everyone to know right now that if I get dementia I want everyone singing “Roll Out the Barrel” at my bedside in true Milwaukee-form!  Tapping into my inner Glee fan, I started singing “You are my sunshine” to him and to my surprise he starting singing with me! He has a really cute voice when he isn’t swearing at me! I loved it!

Read Full Post »

It has been an eventful week at the nursing home- I somehow wound up giving a kiss to an 80 year old, did the YMCA dance for a therapy session, and received a lovely gift of peanut butter M&Ms from a resident’s bra …here’s the scoop:

1. 80 year old kiss: There is this very sweet lady at the nursing home who is not on the rehab teams’ caseload, but likes to loiter outside our rehab gym and do her Bible word finds. I like to make small talk with her because she is pretty lucid (or so I thought) and carries on a lovely conversation. Well, on this particular doomsday, I catch her in the hall, exchange pleasantries and before I knew it, she dove into this epic story of how she woke up with a pacemaker implanted in her chest. It was a really passionate tale. At the end of her story, she grabbed my wrist and said, “Now, where’s my kiss?” as if I’m known around the building as the therapist who hands out free kisses for the best pacemaker story. I couldn’t think of anything clever to say like, “I left your kiss in the office…hang on I’ll be right back” (and then quickly bolt away), so I leaned over, attempting to plant one on her cheek, but she was adamant and got a big ol’ kiss on the lips. Yikes.

2. YMCA: Every Friday the PT, OT, and myself hold a big therapy group in the cafeteria. We do a bunch of different arm, leg, and cognitive-linguistic exercises while playing dodge ball (hilarious), listening to music, and playing baseball with canes and balloons. Often times, the residents have low energy, so we try to pump them up mid-group with some fan favorites, such as the YMCA. We went over how to make the Y-M-C-A with your arms above your head before the song started but it was an epic fail. Half of the residents couldn’t lift their arms over their heads, and their processing speed was so slow, the song was over and some of them still had their hands in the “Y” position, never once completing the “M-C-A.” I’m thinking by next week they should be primed for the Macarena.

3. M&M disaster: One of the residents, Elizabeth, on the physical therapy schedule has really taken to like me (probably because of my kissing reputation). She likes to call me “Manders” (as if we are old high school buddies) in her raspy voice and often drops off drawings for the rehab. staff. My favorite part about Elizabeth is that she draws her eyebrows on, but misses by a couple of centimeters, so she always looks really surprised. On this fateful day, Elizabeth whispered, “Manders, I have something for you.” Thinking it was another rose drawing, I followed her only to watch her pull a bag of peanut butter M&Ms out of her bra and hand them to me. A true gift from the heart, no?

Read Full Post »

In honor of the residents at the nursing home and for public enjoyment, Matt and I decided that I should write a weekly post to share humorous nursing home stories. Before I start, I want to make it nice and clear that I think Alzheimer’s Disease and other progressive diseases are very devastating disease for patients and families alike and is not something to make light of.  On the other hand, working with these patients as a therapist has been an absolute delight. Most of the patients are gentle and unknowingly very humorous. Each resident has been a true joy.

(In accordance with HIPAA, all patients’ names have been changed).

During my first week, I had my eye inconsistently on Mildred. Mildred moves about as fast as a 19,000 pound turtle trapped in molasses no matter if she’s excited about something or not. She doesn’t call a lot of attention to herself or put up much of a fuss. One day during breakfast, I catch Mildred out of the corner of my eye, quietly pulling out her own tooth and laying it by her Rice Krispies. I later tried to problem solve with her as to why she extracted her own tooth, but we didn’t get very far. She said she just was “kind of sick of it.” Classic.

Eunice is another classic. Eunice weighs about 80 pounds and wears velour jump suits. Eunice defines the phrase that size doesn’t matter. All 80 pounds of her is uber-fiesty. You have to keep your eye on Eunice because she is a loose cannon (I like her style). If she’s not trying to escape, she’s eating off another resident’s plate or smearing ice cream on her neighbor. She often holds hands with her partner in crime, Beatrice, and they incoherently plot something out together. On this particular day, I was having a conversation with Eunice about breakfast when she starts mercilessly blowing her nose into her velour jump suit. I asked her why she couldn’t use the napkin next her tray and she said that her jump suit works better…I can only imagine.

Beatrice is a spitter. She is interested in hawking loogies on furniture, residents, the ground…it doesn’t matter. There appears to be no rhyme or reason. For awhile I thought it was just a morning occurrence, but she seems to do it at all parts of the day. The following is an exerpt from one of my conversations with B.

Beatrice: “Hi sugar”

Amanda: “Hi B! You doin’ ok?”

Beatrice: “Yepp, but would be better if sat here on my lap!”

Amanda: “B., I am 25 years old and would snap your bones because you have osteoporosis. Plus I think sitting on the residents’ laps is frowned upon.”

Beatrice: [spit, spit, spit]

My interpretation: either sit on my lap or get out of here.

Read Full Post »

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

%d bloggers like this: