Don’t laugh at people, laugh at the situation

There I was, day one of the most important job I had ever had. I was a CNA at a dementia center called Avita. As if I wasn’t already nervous, ut I was thrown onto the most extensive, behavioral unit. I had worked with dementia before at clinics, but never at this capacity and extent. 22 Residents, all in my care, all in my hands. Excited to have such a great responsibility, I was scared out of my marbles. Despite my worries, I got through the first few hours with ease.

As dinner time rolled around, I had real work to do. Time to serve 22 dementia patients each with two options of decent looking food. I smiled, being cordial and well mannered as my mother had raised me to be, and it was working, all my residents were happy and kind in return. That was until I got to the back table. Now, some residents have dysphasia, which is a disease that makes for trouble with swallowing. For people like this, we have special diets ranging from bite-sized to puree. One resident, in particular, was not too fond of having a soft bite-sized diet, and I was about to hear it.

I placed the plate down and in the most ratchet voice ever, I hear the old lady scream, “You blonde little bitch, this looks terrible!” That, followed by, “You’re the worst waitress, you should be fired, get your fat ass back in the kitchen, you can’t make food, maybe that why you don’t have a ring on.” I stood there in shock. What do I even say when something like this happens? Holding back any emotions or feelings, I brought the plate back to the kitchen where the other CNAs were laughing their butts off. They told me stories about how just that very morning, the same resident had called them “cow” or “fat” or other offensive names. One of the CNAs walked over and told me how she was called an “ugly prostitute” when she tried to give this resident her lunch plate. Over the next few minutes, after everyone was served, the CNAs told me horror stories of what residents had said to them, and we all laughed.

The next few days were a blur, but after every incident where I took offense or didn’t know what to do or how to react, the other CNAs and I would have a debriefing and laugh it all off. From getting peed on to a resident literally having a bowel movement in the hallway just because they were mad that it wasn’t breakfast time yet… (at 10 pm) The stories are endless as my summer consisted of 40 hours a week, caring for 22 people with dementia. I had become very good at my job, being able to do care on everyone, clean the entire floor, do all the laundry, and do other people’s work, still having time to chart every aspect of my day by hand. All of this by 11 pm just so I could be back at 7 am. I didn’t mind this routine, but I became exhausted. Late nights and early mornings called for a grumpy Grace. One night, me and one of my favorite coworkers had no manager or CRMA on staff, and it was just us CNAs on the floor. When we were charting, one of our residents came inside, from the courtyard around 9 pm.  Domo(my CNA friend) and I looked at each other and literally said “shit!” at the same time. The doors were supposed to be locked at 8 by the CRMA. It was dark out, and that can be very dangerous for the visually impaired.

The woman walked inside and says to us, “girls I lost my earpiece outside.” Sure enough, she was wearing one hearing aid. The other had to be outside, in the large outdoor courtyard filled with gardens and greenery. Domo and I spent an hour outside on our hands and knees looking for this woman’s hearing aid. In the dark, with our phone flashlights. Outside we were just laughing, because what else were we to do? Getting mad wouldn’t get us anywhere. We had to find it, these things cost one to four thousand dollars apiece! I eventually ended up finding the hearing aid in a bush in the back of the garden.

During the report that night someone had asked how our night went and how that certain resident was, and Domo and I looked at each other and just laughed. You see, what I had learned as a CNA is even after rough nights and crazy events, laughing was the best way to calm down or brush it off. With dementia, you have to expect the unexpected, and there is never a dull moment. Laughter can make your attitude towards a certain resident or situation dissipate. Laughing about a situation with a fellow employee can make one realize how dumb it is to get angry over a situation because you can never blame the resident because everything revolves around the ugly disease of dementia.

Photo by Rosmarie Voegtli on Foter.com / CC BY