COMMUNICATION
As I said in my first post, good communication skills are not always a recruitment priority. I should put it another way: since most residents are English, fluency in English really should be a non-negotiable requirement. Hell's bells, it's bad enough for disabled people without them having to struggle with a language barrier -- or indeed, a comprehension barrier -- when attempting to explain what problems they need addressing, even more so if it is an urgent problem. Imagine lying in a bath while two carers, neither of them English, wrestle with the language, convinced that while lying in the bath, you want some toast! Spelling words was useless: they didn't recognize the word. It took some inventive thinking before they finally understood: the problem concerned your toes!
A lighter note. You know, nursing homes and care homes shelter a wide range of people and 'normal' people -- that's everybody else (normal? Ha!) -- often forget that among us lurk some very subversive characters. I exclude myself, of course. And don't make the mistake of thinking that I'm talking exclusively about residents. We have a number of rcarers here -- many from agencies on an "as needed" basis -- who, since raw intelligence is an inherited attribute, have DNA that you would kill to keep out of your own family gene pool. Does that make me judgemental and snobbish? Oh well. (See the shrug.)
It is rather like school really. You are sharing premises with a bunch of strangers with whom you have nothing in common except the need for care and have no control over who gets to be a carer. All you need to do to survive is simply accept that situation and play the cards you are dealt, as it were. Okay, some things can be hard to stomach: your table companions may include somebody French -- how bad can it get after that?
Well, for a start, the carers putting you to bed or giving you a bath may not be, shall we say, your favourite people. You may have problems with their manner, their attitude to you/the job in hand, their competence (or lack of) or their ability to understand you. Or all of those things! I shudder sometimes for those who have their own communication problems. You don't want to upset them though because those very same carers will have easy access to your private and secret places when you are up in the sling! If not today, some other day. Best not tempt providence, eh? I don't say that with any bitterness, you understand, as if I was recalling in acute detail any particular gruelling incident, I hasten to add.
Sunday, March 28, 2010
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
ENTERTAINMENT?
Have you ever wondered what happens to former wannabes, once their peak years of dreaming of almost making it somewhere, have passed? I'll tell you what happens to them -- they make a nice living on the twilight circuit. That's the circuit of retirement homes, care homes, nursing homes and such, where "entertainers" (in their own minds anyway) are paid £40+ an hour to entertain the unfortunate residents.
Okay, one or two aren't quite that bad but, in many cases they wouldn't have made it past auditions to be Butlin's redcoats. Typically, it might be someone who can barely carry a tune, strumming chords on a guitar as they accompany a backing tape while singing their way through anything from Cliff Richard's ' Summer Holiday' to 'It's a long way to Tipperary'. Even more bizarrely, he/she may be no more than 40-60 or so, believing for some odd reason that their captive audience have musical tastes going back almost 100 years. On one occasion, we had a guy of 50 who gave us within the space of 15 minutes, My Old Man Said Follow The Van, American Pie, a bit of Lennon and McCartney, some Elvis, It's a Long Way to Tipperary and a bit of Eric Clapton! I suppose that it wouldn't have been so bad if he'd had a decent voice and knowing all the words would have helped him as well. And we had him for 90 minutes! Still, mustn't expect too much, must we?
HEALTH AND BLOODY SAFETY.
How, in the name of everything or anything that is holy, has the human race made it this far? Without the phalanx of health and safety experts, would we ever have known that hot things can cause burns, that sharp things can inflict skin damage, that balancing precariously on top of unsecured ladders or furniture might be dangerous and allow you to fall down with painful results? Dear (insert the name of your chosen deity, icon or favourite fetish), how lucky was my dad to survive without them to help him? He even managed to survive a world war!! Did nobody even bother to warn him about the dangers before he went?
And today, the health and safety advice panel here tells me that I am not allowed to have control of my own medication! No, it must be issued to me by the nurse on duty every time: what's more, I'm only allowed things that have been specifically prescribed for me by the doctor. That ruling extends to a simple 75mg ('children's) aspirin and even to over-the-counter products like Sennapod! Apparently, I might overdose without realising it! On antibiotics! Aspirin! My very own Sennakot!! It seems that I'm not permitted to ask one of the carers "would you give me two of those ampicillin & one of those aspirin please?"
This is, apparently, to protect both me and the carers: I can't be trusted to be in control of that request and that they cannot be trusted to respond appropriately. Look, I'm thinking, if they can't be trusted to do that, why the hell are you employing them in the first place? And even before that, how dare you take away my control of me? In my book, I am in control of me, as far as my mental functioning goes, even though I may need physical assistance to give effect to my wishes. Even having fun, however you define it, you need assistance from carers etc. Don't you believe everything the pro-lifers tell you -- quadriplegia isn't always fun.
Have you ever wondered what happens to former wannabes, once their peak years of dreaming of almost making it somewhere, have passed? I'll tell you what happens to them -- they make a nice living on the twilight circuit. That's the circuit of retirement homes, care homes, nursing homes and such, where "entertainers" (in their own minds anyway) are paid £40+ an hour to entertain the unfortunate residents.
Okay, one or two aren't quite that bad but, in many cases they wouldn't have made it past auditions to be Butlin's redcoats. Typically, it might be someone who can barely carry a tune, strumming chords on a guitar as they accompany a backing tape while singing their way through anything from Cliff Richard's ' Summer Holiday' to 'It's a long way to Tipperary'. Even more bizarrely, he/she may be no more than 40-60 or so, believing for some odd reason that their captive audience have musical tastes going back almost 100 years. On one occasion, we had a guy of 50 who gave us within the space of 15 minutes, My Old Man Said Follow The Van, American Pie, a bit of Lennon and McCartney, some Elvis, It's a Long Way to Tipperary and a bit of Eric Clapton! I suppose that it wouldn't have been so bad if he'd had a decent voice and knowing all the words would have helped him as well. And we had him for 90 minutes! Still, mustn't expect too much, must we?
HEALTH AND BLOODY SAFETY.
How, in the name of everything or anything that is holy, has the human race made it this far? Without the phalanx of health and safety experts, would we ever have known that hot things can cause burns, that sharp things can inflict skin damage, that balancing precariously on top of unsecured ladders or furniture might be dangerous and allow you to fall down with painful results? Dear (insert the name of your chosen deity, icon or favourite fetish), how lucky was my dad to survive without them to help him? He even managed to survive a world war!! Did nobody even bother to warn him about the dangers before he went?
And today, the health and safety advice panel here tells me that I am not allowed to have control of my own medication! No, it must be issued to me by the nurse on duty every time: what's more, I'm only allowed things that have been specifically prescribed for me by the doctor. That ruling extends to a simple 75mg ('children's) aspirin and even to over-the-counter products like Sennapod! Apparently, I might overdose without realising it! On antibiotics! Aspirin! My very own Sennakot!! It seems that I'm not permitted to ask one of the carers "would you give me two of those ampicillin & one of those aspirin please?"
This is, apparently, to protect both me and the carers: I can't be trusted to be in control of that request and that they cannot be trusted to respond appropriately. Look, I'm thinking, if they can't be trusted to do that, why the hell are you employing them in the first place? And even before that, how dare you take away my control of me? In my book, I am in control of me, as far as my mental functioning goes, even though I may need physical assistance to give effect to my wishes. Even having fun, however you define it, you need assistance from carers etc. Don't you believe everything the pro-lifers tell you -- quadriplegia isn't always fun.
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Unless my priorities and routines change, my postings may be, probably will be, sporadic. Be warned. I'm not remotely PC and regard "political correctness" as nothing less than a social and cultural cancer. It may well be that some of the things I say cause you some grief, offend sensibilities and thoroughly merit being condemned with words ending in ‘-ist’. Fair enough. By and large there is no focused hostility or antipathy. Well, actually there is from time to time but frankly, I don't really care any more -- certainly, no more than religious and social zealots or born-again politicos care about irritating me when promoting their own perspectives. Get over it. Get a proper life. The dog did, Eventually. After we took it to the vet..
Oh well, I got that off my chest. I am not intrinsically and irredeemably curmudgeonly -- my wife may demur -- but I certainly have developed a finely-tuned capability to be a grumpy old man. That's hardly surprising when you're stuck in a nursing home. Forced by circumstance to live with a bunch of strangers, most of whom share few of your life experiences, opinions and understandings, circumscribed by rules and regulations dealing with Health & Safety, Lifting & Handling is bad enough.
Things are made worse sometimes with the problems created by the carers supplied by agencies. By making the caring sector a low paid employment option, it has become an easy recruitment opportunity for available labour with no qualifications other than their availability. As a consequence, it remains lowly paid and so is highlighted by those who argue that we need immigrants because nobody in this country will do the job at those rates. Of course, this creates a situation where there is no need to raise remuneration significantly as there is always a ready supply of willing workers. Yes, I know there are some excellent and dedicated carers, often attracted by the opportunity to work occasional hours, preferring that sector because it allows them to be in control of their own lives. They are not the majority. Unfortunately, the ability to communicate fluently and easily with those receiving care is not deemed a priority. No doubt I shall return to this theme. Biliously. Often.
Oh well, I got that off my chest. I am not intrinsically and irredeemably curmudgeonly -- my wife may demur -- but I certainly have developed a finely-tuned capability to be a grumpy old man. That's hardly surprising when you're stuck in a nursing home. Forced by circumstance to live with a bunch of strangers, most of whom share few of your life experiences, opinions and understandings, circumscribed by rules and regulations dealing with Health & Safety, Lifting & Handling is bad enough.
Things are made worse sometimes with the problems created by the carers supplied by agencies. By making the caring sector a low paid employment option, it has become an easy recruitment opportunity for available labour with no qualifications other than their availability. As a consequence, it remains lowly paid and so is highlighted by those who argue that we need immigrants because nobody in this country will do the job at those rates. Of course, this creates a situation where there is no need to raise remuneration significantly as there is always a ready supply of willing workers. Yes, I know there are some excellent and dedicated carers, often attracted by the opportunity to work occasional hours, preferring that sector because it allows them to be in control of their own lives. They are not the majority. Unfortunately, the ability to communicate fluently and easily with those receiving care is not deemed a priority. No doubt I shall return to this theme. Biliously. Often.
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