Tattoos, Baffs and a Barrel of Laughs

Tomorrow I’m going to go to work with my tin hat on. I might even go all out and put my suit of armour on after the day I’ve had today.

I was at Sunshine Nursing Home, the home I consider to be my second home after doing so many shifts there. Charisma at the nursing agency asked me if I could do a few extra shifts in the run up to Christmas and I thought it would be a doddle. How wrong was I!?

When I arrived for my shift there was a whole new batch of carers who I hadn’t worked with before. Apparently, a new home has opened down the road and in a grand indictment of the state of staff retention in nursing and care work, there had been a mass exodus of the care staff, including my mate Rita who has been appointed as the new senior carer.

I won’t lie, I was a bit miffed to find she had gone and not invited me to her leaving do….I’ve had loads of practice with beer pong and I do a seriously mean Beyonce on the karaoke…maybe she didn’t rate me as much as I thought she did.

Anyway, I rocked up at Sunshine and after the handover I started to do the allocation. I asked a new ‘carer’ to ask Mrs D if she wanted a bath that morning. It’s been a while since she had a soak, what with her ulcerated legs and the crazy dressing regime and I thought she might enjoy it. Her family are coming from Australia next week and I want her looking her best as she hasn’t seen them for over a decade.

‘Carer’s’ response to this was to roll her eyes before she says to me “Err…I don’t think so”. At least, I think that’s what she said, it was a bit hard to hear with the gum in her mouth affecting her speech.

Now, I might look 12 years old, I might even look 12 stone, but I am still the nurse in charge and Mrs D still needs a bath. So I asked her why “she didn’t think so” and I could feel the natives becoming restless. I think they could feel a fight was afoot; unfortunately for them they weren’t aware of my notorious history with feet.

This is BAFF

“I don’t do baffs” said the delightful ‘Carer’. “You do now” I said, and I think the temperature actually dropped in the room. Honestly, sometimes I have to ask myself who’s in charge here? Every time I come back it seems that the nurses are losing a grip and the carers are in charge. Some nurses might work like that, but I don’t just see my job as doing the meds and updating the care plans; I need to make sure that the care staff are delivering the right care and that includes “doing baffs”. Anyway, she eyed me up like I was a takeaway kebab and rolled up the sleeves of her cardi. Tattoos jumped out at me and I had visions of the Shawshank Redemption. As I formed a plan in my mind, I made a mental note to myself to ask the Manager about her ‘robust’ recruitment process. As far as I was aware, a pulse was no longer sufficient to qualify a person to work with vulnerable elderly people.

I made an executive decision and asked everyone, bar ‘Carer’ to leave the room. They shuffled out reluctantly; it was obvious they wanted to see my blood flow and my head roll but that wasn’t going to happen. It was too close to Christmas and I’d spent too much money on my new niece to be thinking of exiting this world anytime soon.

‘Carer’ was stomping her hooves as her cronies left. With the ring in her nostril, she reminded me of those poor, angry bulls that are classed as sport in some countries. I won’t tell you exactly what I said but let’s just say that ‘Carer’ does do “baffs” now and Mrs D was still telling everyone who passed by her this evening about the lovely soak she had and how she’s looking forward to seeing her son who lives in Australia, who’s coming specially to see her for Christmas.

The Manager collared me mid-afternoon. Apparently, 3 of the care staff have raised grievances against me. According to the paperwork which the Manager let me read, I’ve made them do “baffs”, not let them have an extra fag break after dinner and made them organise a karaoke session with the residents this afternoon. I also made ‘Carer’ remove her cardi for infection control purposes, so I also had a complaint from one of the residents that one of her tattoos was spelt wrong!

I have to admit to being a bit cross and I think the Manager got the message. She had been running around frantically trying to prevent a riot, which meant she was quite prepared to sell me down the river to appease the scarers…or was that carers? I asked her quite clearly to tell me what part of the grievances actually had any substance. Was it not the job of the care staff to deliver care? Was it not the job of the care staff to actually care about their resident’s holistic well-being and ensure their remaining days actually contained some fun? And at what point had it become their right to take extra breaks when that time could have been spent with the residents?

I then asked the Manager if we could discuss this further in her office. By the time I’d explained the wayward behaviour of the care staff and how they needed reining in, she was beside herself. Clearly torn between preventing a riot and seeing the sense in my words, she was almost in tears. I told her I would help her by writing a formal statement of what had actually happened so that she could carry out a swift investigation and put this one to bed. It would show the carers that they would be listened to and taken seriously but that, actually, they didn’t have a leg to stand on.

I rang Charisma to warn her of what was coming and she nearly deafened me with her hysterical, cackling laughter down the phone. She seemed quite impressed though when I told her how I had advised the Manager to deal with it. She even said that I might make a half decent Manager myself one day!

As I put the phone down I did what any good nurse does, I had a short period of reflection, and my conclusion was that I would do it all again tomorrow. If I had to go into battle to fight for my residents’ rights, then that’s exactly what I would do. If I had to mentally wrestle every ‘Carer’ that I came across then bring it on. If I had to justify my actions in backing my residents then so be it. I’m learning that nursing is not just about nursing. It’s about being an advocate and a friend to all those I care for and it’s about standing up for what is right. The ‘Carer’s’ of this world might prod me and poke me but they will never be any more than a mere irritant.

I’m back at Sunshine tomorrow. I have more baffs planned for my new mate. It’s make or break time for that girl and with any luck, I’ll make it, she’ll break it and we’ll rebuild it together!

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