a nght with an old posse

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O¶Brien 1

Christian O¶Brien

Mr Neuburger

Eng Comp 101-132

8 February 2011

Narrative Essay

A Night with an Old Posse

Christian O¶Brien clocked in at 9:53pm. The world should be fast asleep, at least it

should be, not mine though, I now have eight hours and fourteen minutes to hang with some old

friends, and I mean old. I remind myself of a phantom, a nocturnal creature of the night; just

another dark day under the light of the moon; babysitting the infirm, phyaically and mentally

handicapped elderly at Jordan Creek Nursing and Rehab, for $76, minus the government¶s share

for ³Federal Medicaid´ and ³Federal Social Security´ I¶ll likely never it see again

I walk through the open doors. ³Yippee kiyaa! Get the hell out!´ after seven hours and

fifty nine minutes of caring for fendless prisoners the aides are tired. I know how they feel, I

started out on evening shift. The hell out they go, leaving me with all sorts of little treasure; they

say one man¶s trash is another one¶s treasure right? If one can call the whole barrel of trash the

outgoing shift just left for me to take out then I guess I¶m rich. Awesome; yellow barrels of

white and brown sheets, what is this smelly brown stuff anyway? Hmm smells like Miss So and

So tonight. I cannot use real names, legel confidentiality reasons. The laundry people will just

love it if I cut their work out for them by starting the first rinse cycle« with a hose and toilet, I

cannot watch what I am doing, I never did like the taste of chocolate swirly. Anyone who does

not know what I mean probably does not need to know.



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BEEP BEEP BEEP, some people love those little red buttons to summon me to do stuff

for them, I know I should feel sorry for this one guy, but shoot I can¶t hang out with you all night

sorry.

So I plop someone on the toilet, not forgetting one little thing, but not wanting to know

this routine either. More to amuse myself than this lady I make random jokes. I walk out to let

her do her business to the sound of running water. I think it is a waste, but who I am to talk? I set

up shop of sheets and pads, cloths and gloves. They might look clean now but the clean white

linen will eventually be doomed to smell like crap. I walk up to the nurses desk, maybe I can sit

down and listen to a totally random talk show all night, by that I mean the other three employees;

but no, BEEP BEEP BEEP just in time toilet lady, thank you. So I put her to bed and she thanks

me with a rather awkward µI love you¶ which I choose to ignore. I finally get my vital signs

done, I wish these people would stop going to the hospital I have so many Med-A¶s. Now time

for midnight rounds. My rounds at 12, 2, and 4 am involve looking under someone¶s diapers to

check if there most undignified body parts are soiled, if so I clean it up. Try not to take this

wrong, but fortunately these people have dementia; but if they didn¶t they¶d probably be able to

clean themselves up. Nothing too eventful during these rounds. ³Will grandma be mad?´ asks

one lady after I clean her up ³no«´ I say her name but again privacy laws ³but try to catch a

little more sleep I¶ll be right here if you need me´ ³okay´ she says as I tuck her in like a child. I

feel a wave of compassion as she snuggles under the blankets and closes her eyes falling into a

dreamland full of memories of a childhood she will never see again. Sit around for about an hour

and a half, answering the occasional call light ³sheesh go to bed people´ I mutter under my

breath. Not like I have something better to do anyway I do not really count listening to people

gossip or bitch about their pathetic lives. Do my rounds again, get out some outfits for people I



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will have to get up at 5am. It seems nursing homes have this convenient little bias:elderly people

love getting up before the butt crack of dawn. Not the case. I feel so guilty rummaging through

other people¶s stuff, but some of them don¶t even know it¶s theirs anyway.

I do my poorly programmed charting. Ever tried to keep yourself awake staring at a

computer screen at three o¶clock in the morning? I¶ll admit to dozing off a couple times before.

More sitting around, more rounds, then the party really cranks up. I do have one guy who,

in an obvious exception to the national nursing home rule of µearly to bed, early to rise¶ B.S,

likes to get up at 4:30. So I use it as an excuse to start waking the residents up before I¶m

supposed to. Between the deadline to get several uncooperative paralyzed people, every call light

is annoying as hell, especially from this on guy. Asking for help to lift a couple of people so I do

not hurt them or myself seems like a joke to my fellow night shifters; but I do not give a rip, I

refuse to hurt these people, no matter how they try to torment me. They do noT realize what they

are doing, so for them it is almost natural; therefore in my opinion, they are doing nothing

wrong.

6am time to go for the other two. But heck no I always take hall 3 and every single µ\day

shift aide takes it last every single time. Which means, as usual I am the last to leave. Eventually

I finally finish or give up, waiting for the day shift chicks who think themselves to be all it

because I sit around all night« whatever.

I am pretty much married to my work so this is the story of my life. Us C.N.A¶s are so far

and few in between, almost every nursing home in the nation seems desperately short staffed.

And I kind of respect it, because guess what? If you think to yourself µI couldn¶t do that¶ then

you¶re probably right; thank you. But there are some C.N.A¶s who straight up suck. They treat

the residents like objects of crap. It¶s the same with some LPNs and RNs too. And I will admit I



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am guilty of it too. I¶m not going to try to lie, I¶ve got annoyed at some people, and I feel bad,

real bad, but I have no excuse. The resident¶s are probnably prisoners of their own minds; stuck

in a two milllion dollar over dacorated facility. Sometimes it is heartbreaking. remember the lady

I tucked in earlier? right there an example. People compliment me for dealing with all the crud,

from the management, my hours, and of course the residents. But hell someone needs to it. It¶s a

gift, better not waste it. Got to start somewhere. Besides there is no way I am going to be a

C.N.A all my life, Half the reason I even bother to write this. But let me tell you something else,

no matter how many times a resident hits their call light, how many times they soak their whole

bed, or hit, kick, bite or scratch me, or what they say to me; I love these people.

a nght with an old posse

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