Mrs D was sitting at the dining table the other afternoon, with a coin purse in her hand. She doesn't normally carry a purse, so I wondered what she was up to.
me: Hey Mrs D., whatcha doing?
her: I'm a bit worried today
me: why's that?
she opened the purse and showed me about 20 individual serve packets of artificial sweetener that we keep in bowls on the dining tables.
her: I've got all these bus tickets, but I don't know where they go to ...
me: well, it looks to me like they're return tickets, so they'd all bring you back here, wouldn't they?
her: oh, that's a relief!
Often residents think that these bright blue packets are money, and will pick up handfuls and put them in purses, wallets, pockets etc. One day a family member gave me a huge rubbishbag full of packets of sugar, sweetener, biscuits, jam, butter etc that her mother had squirrelled away in her room, along with multiple rolls of toilet paper and rubbish bags.
Tuesday 22 May 2012
Tuesday 27 March 2012
You lost how much?
Late Sunday night, not long before the shift changeover, the call bell went off in the room of Miss S.
Normally this resident gets up to go to the toilet and sets off her sensor mat several times in the night, so I wasn't expecting much drama when I went into her room. Boy, was I wrong. Miss S has a mild intellectual disability as well as dementia, but is usually a quite placid individual.
When I went in she was shaking with agitation. I asked what was wrong.
"I'm the victim of a burglary! I've been robbed! Someone came into my room and stole my money!" she replied.
Now, I know that Miss S doesn't have money in her room - our policy is that residents (especially those with dementia) should keep their money held at the office in trust unless they are actually going out somewhere. Miss S's family keep her trust fund well topped up for her needs. Late last year she had withdrawn some money and kept it in her wallet for several months, and on being asked why by a family member, she didn't even recognise the notes as money. That money was redeposited to her trust fund in early December. She hasn't asked about it since.
Nevertheless, I asked "How much money?"
"Three hundred thousand dollars! I had it in my purse!" she waved a tiny zip-top change purse at me - you'd be hard pressed to put a folded $20 note in it, it was so small.
"I don't think you could fit $300,000 in that," I said. "Where'd you get $300,000 from?"
"Oh, you know! from superannuation and stuff!"
Eventually I got her calmed down and back into bed.
"You better tell the police!" she said as I turned off the light.
"I'll do better than that, I'll tell the boss." I told her. "Good night."
Normally this resident gets up to go to the toilet and sets off her sensor mat several times in the night, so I wasn't expecting much drama when I went into her room. Boy, was I wrong. Miss S has a mild intellectual disability as well as dementia, but is usually a quite placid individual.
When I went in she was shaking with agitation. I asked what was wrong.
"I'm the victim of a burglary! I've been robbed! Someone came into my room and stole my money!" she replied.
Now, I know that Miss S doesn't have money in her room - our policy is that residents (especially those with dementia) should keep their money held at the office in trust unless they are actually going out somewhere. Miss S's family keep her trust fund well topped up for her needs. Late last year she had withdrawn some money and kept it in her wallet for several months, and on being asked why by a family member, she didn't even recognise the notes as money. That money was redeposited to her trust fund in early December. She hasn't asked about it since.
Nevertheless, I asked "How much money?"
"Three hundred thousand dollars! I had it in my purse!" she waved a tiny zip-top change purse at me - you'd be hard pressed to put a folded $20 note in it, it was so small.
"I don't think you could fit $300,000 in that," I said. "Where'd you get $300,000 from?"
"Oh, you know! from superannuation and stuff!"
Eventually I got her calmed down and back into bed.
"You better tell the police!" she said as I turned off the light.
"I'll do better than that, I'll tell the boss." I told her. "Good night."
Monday 26 March 2012
In the beginning...
Let me 'splain....
No, there is too much; let me sum up:
I work in a residential aged care facility. This is a strange place for me, as I spent 27 years as an IT person. In that time I did a variety of different jobs: programmer, consultant, web designer, technical writer, help desk, you name it.
Seven years ago I was retrenched from my job, and decided I needed a sea-change. I needed to find a place where I could actually help people that needed my help. A place where I could make a difference. I ended up in aged care. What a roller coaster ride it has been, and continues to be.
Every day I see amusing stories, and heartwrenching ones. Every day brings me something new to understand or solve, or simply cope with. All too frequently I see families who are struggling to come to terms with having to put their loved ones in care.
What I hope to do is share some of these stories (suitably anonymised, of course!) so that people can understand what it is we do in aged care, and hopefully see the funny side of the tragic concatenation of circumstance where failing bodies and failing minds are clinging to the last vestiges of "normal". The stories are true. Only names have been changed, to protect the innocent.
Maybe you know someone who works in aged care. Maybe you do, yourself. Maybe your mother, father, aunty, uncle, wife or husband is in an aged care facility. Whatever your interest, I hope you enjoy this blog about Adventures in Aged Care.
No, there is too much; let me sum up:
I work in a residential aged care facility. This is a strange place for me, as I spent 27 years as an IT person. In that time I did a variety of different jobs: programmer, consultant, web designer, technical writer, help desk, you name it.
Seven years ago I was retrenched from my job, and decided I needed a sea-change. I needed to find a place where I could actually help people that needed my help. A place where I could make a difference. I ended up in aged care. What a roller coaster ride it has been, and continues to be.
Every day I see amusing stories, and heartwrenching ones. Every day brings me something new to understand or solve, or simply cope with. All too frequently I see families who are struggling to come to terms with having to put their loved ones in care.
What I hope to do is share some of these stories (suitably anonymised, of course!) so that people can understand what it is we do in aged care, and hopefully see the funny side of the tragic concatenation of circumstance where failing bodies and failing minds are clinging to the last vestiges of "normal". The stories are true. Only names have been changed, to protect the innocent.
Maybe you know someone who works in aged care. Maybe you do, yourself. Maybe your mother, father, aunty, uncle, wife or husband is in an aged care facility. Whatever your interest, I hope you enjoy this blog about Adventures in Aged Care.
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