Chinese Whispers - Communication is everything

Charisma from the agency rang me at the last minute yesterday and instead of my usual rota asked me to do a shift at a different nursing home.

When I say ‘asked’ it was kind of in the same way an armed robber would ask for the contents of the bank safe; but other than that I really feel that me and Charisma are starting to bond through these friendly phone calls.

I won’t lie, I was a bit nervous about going somewhere else after being at Sunshine Nursing Home for so many weeks. I was just starting to get used to who and where everything was there; and I think they are getting used to me a little too. After the episode with Mrs G and the bath I feel like the carers are starting to see me as one of them, they even allocate me a break now!

I think the incident with Mr F and his recycled maltesers also gave me more credibility in the eyes of the carers, but that’s a story for another day, preferably not until long after I’ve got back on the horse and been able to pop a few chocolates into my mouth!

The new home I was sent to, "Golden Manor", was a bit daunting at first. The driveway seemed to go on forever and with my old feet still being a bit haggis-esque and threatening to go on strike, I was a bit out of breath when I arrived.

Charisma also told me that Golden Manor was an EMI home. Which a double check of Google confirmed really actually is supposed to mean Elderly Mentally Infirm. I had to be sure, what a nice label! Not only was it bad enough getting older and needing someone to help you with stuff, someone out there then saw fit to add insult to injury and call you mental! This is supposed to be the 21st century!

Anyway, it didn’t take me long to come up with the name Golden Manor, this place seemed to model itself on the well known Golden Arches brand, most famous for fast food. All of the staff had permanent smiles on their faces, they all wore caps and polo shirts and finished every conversation with ‘have a nice day now’. After several exhausting hours on medications and leading the GP round, I was almost salivating at the thought of a juicy burger and a strawberry shake, unfortunately I was still doing the enforced egg mayo diet, which was playing havoc on the twice daily bus rides.

So the medications round, first I had to decipher a garbled handover from the night nurse, then rely on care staff to tell me who was who. Shouldn't there be pictures of residents on the med sheets?

... and the GP, well no matter how many times I explained I have only just met the patients it just didn't register, it was all I could do to hastily flick through medical histories trying to scribble down instructions for writing up later.

The GP breezed out and I breathed a quiet sigh of relief, only to look up and notice a couple of the Golden Manor care staff smiling at me like Stepford Wives, garbed in their uniform baseball caps and polo shirts. I soon got the feeling that they didn’t really trust me much. One of them muttered that I looked 12 and another one checked me out on the NMC website to see if I was really qualified. It was a bit unnerving and after lunch it got really weird.

To be fair though, lunch was great and all of the residents (living with dementia I hasten to add; not old, mental and infirm) were given choices at the table and got the support they needed to really enjoy their meals. For about 30 seconds I actually felt like a bit of a spare part, the care team really worked it like clockwork.

Soon after, the manager appeared in the corridor and whispered something to one of the carers, who whispered it to another carer and then the chef and then finally to me. Apparently, I was to ‘empty bucket in a loo’ but by the time I’d processed this nugget of information and figured I had not a clue what this meant, there was no-one to be seen.

The residents had all been spruced up and the staff were lining them up in the grand reception.  I panicked a bit and looked for the golden bucket, wondering what on earth was going on that needed all this ceremony. The only bucket I could see was the one on the trolley that was full of the leftovers, so I grabbed it and ran to the nearest toilet…which just happened to be in reception. All the staff were there by now including the manager and they all looked rather horrified when I ran through.

I’m not sure whether it was panic or the left over cabbage and sprout bake that tipped me over the edge, but before I knew it I was overcome with nausea. And then the door opened and the singing began!

I can’t quite remember what happened next but the manager told me later over a stiff builder’s tea, that as they were singing the official company welcome song to their visiting

VIP (‘MD booked in at 2’ not ‘empty bucket in a loo’) all they could hear was my backing vocals and my personal wind instrument…not my finest moment.

Today’s lesson? Check, check and check again. My communication skills are pants but my willingness to give anything a go is coming up trumps!

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