Soap and Glory

I’ve done loads of shifts at Sunshine now; well 7 counting today’s and 12 hours apiece – that equals loads in my book – I almost feel like a permanent member of staff. 

After the initial baptism of fire that was my first shift I feel like I’ve taken to it like a duck to water. I’ve ditched the size ten uniform (much to the disgust of Charisma at the agency who ranted about cost), invested in some of that peppermint foot stuff and a new washing up bowl for the foot soaks, and I feel very positive about all the good things I’m doing there.

Like today, Mrs G asked me for a bath and it was such a shock because the girls had told me that she hadn’t had a bath since she’d moved in. That’s not to say she’s dirty, she’s forever having a strip wash and you can tell by the soap on a rope she has hanging in her en-suite, that she’s not shy of soap and water. Anyway, it was shortly after lunch and a few of the residents had been helped onto bed rest so it was fairly quiet. I had finished my med round, no one had any immediate clinical needs and the phone had actually stopped ringing.

I was going to take advantage of this rare opportunity.

I did a quick check on everyone and shouted to the girls that I would be in the beach bathroom (sand castles painted on the walls and flip flops and bikini on display) with Mrs G for the next half hour or so. They looked a bit shocked when they nodded back but I thought that was because they weren’t used to the nurse being so hands-on. Almost as shocked as I was proud that I had managed to make the time to do it.

So off we went, me and Mrs G to have some quality relaxing time together. I ran the bath and soon the bubbles were there sloshing around on the top looking very inviting. Mrs G was sitting in the wheelchair waiting for me to finish the prep and from time to time she would shout ‘bath, bath’. 

Now it’s probably worth pointing out that Mrs G is a woman of few words; she would seldom communicate with us verbally so I felt quite honoured that she had chosen to share some time and conversation with me.

I was enjoying setting the scene and already planning what I could write in her daily notes, when Mrs G starting shouting a bit louder. I smiled and turned around to tell her that it wouldn’t be too much longer, just in time to hear her stomach churn as she turned her head in the general direction of the toilet bowl and vomited.

Well I don’t know what happened next but it all seemed to happen in slow motion. I rushed over to help her, just as we both watched with horror as her dentures flew like a pair of Olympic gymnasts through the air, plopping dead centre into the bowl. It was like time stood still, I just didn’t know what to do next; I mean, there’s nothing in the nurse training curriculum that tells you what to do. Should I fish them out – but then what? Would she want them back after they’d been down the loo? Did I have to report it to safeguarding? And that’s when it dawned on me, Mrs G wasn’t asking me for a bath; she was trying to tell me she wanted to barf! That’s why the carers were looking shocked; they obviously knew what she meant and I hadn’t bothered to ask them!

So now there we were, in a bit of a kerfuffle. Mrs G looking totally embarrassed and I must have looked like I didn’t have the first idea what to do. So I did what I thought was the right thing, I looked at Mrs G with a big smile on my face and gave her a big hug. I told her it was okay and that I was sorry that she wasn’t feeling so well; and that I would help her to get cleaned up. Mrs G even agreed to get in the bath and I’m sure she only did that so that I could save face with the care staff!

I’m on the number 31 bus again, this time there’s an extra element to my unique scent; some may call it vomit - I’m sure the guy who moved up the bus away from me would call it that - but I prefer to call it the subtle scent of glory.

As my old dad used to say ‘every day’s a school day’; today I do believe I passed my first exam in this big school known as life.

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