I called my mom, talking it out, trying to come up with a way we could do his showers. The sad truth was that he was almost 200 pounds and completely immobile — we likely couldn’t move him safely ourselves. And besides, it was unclear whether or not we were allowed by the home’s regulations to take on that level of care. The wife of a man down the hall had overheard me talking and poked her head out of his room and said that it was better not to think about it too much.
After waiting for about a half-hour with my friend’s father, listening to his agitated breathing, I stepped out into the hallway again. The woman with the clipboard and purple shirt was at the end of hall, and I waved, getting ready to use my best friendly-yet-firm voice.
20 minutes is a long time to sit in pee
“Are you free to help with the commode? Or at least help get him changed?” I asked, crinkling my eyes so she could see that I was smiling underneath the mask I was wearing.
“We are very busy,” she said, taking a deep breath and walking quickly in the other direction. “Give me 20.”
“20 is a long time to sit in pee,” I called out as she turned a corner.
Just saying.
What a sad state we are in in terms of how we care for our people. Not enough staff. Not enough pay. Long hours. Burnout. I get it. But even with all of these pressures, can we not still be compassionate, empathetic and caring? Could that nurse have taken a minute to let my friend’s dad know at least that he was on her mind and that she would be there soon? And sure, it wouldn’t have taken away the discomfort of holding a bowel movement, but it would have let him know that he hadn’t been forgotten and given him an idea of how long he would have to wait, which certainly would have helped with the anxiety he was feeling.