When I quit cigarettes some two decades ago, I never thought that one day I'd spend so much time with people who haven't. "Smoke 'em while ya got 'em" seems to be the watchword as therapists, aides, nurses, and administrators alike huddle in clumps at least ten feet from an entrance door, trying to stay dry and warm while puffing frantically in order to squeeze in a second coffin nail during a 10-minute break.
I used to get a kick out of the miserable appearance they projected, if only because I was proud of breaking my own habit and felt slightly superior to those whom it continued to hold in thrall. I was also glad I'd quit because I remembered what nicotine fits were like, and had not particularly admired the person I became after I'd been, say, on an airplane for 6 straight hours without a cigarette.
As the years went by and I went through first nursing school, then my first few years of being an RN, I noticed that a lot of healthcare workers still clung to their tobacco habits. "Hmph!" I used to say to myself, "nice example THEY'RE setting for the patients!" (If you think there's nothing more insufferable than a reformed addict, wait till you meet a reformed smoker.) It wasn't until my first stint in management that I discovered there was much more to some staff members' frequent smoke breaks than met the eye.....or in this case, ears.
One aide I'll call Tina was the sort every nurse loves to hate: She was (seemingly) lazy, never could be found when an extra pair of hands was needed, talked incessantly (and always negatively), took too many breaks and so on. Unfortunately, she'd been working at that LTC since Hector was a pup, and nobody---not even administrators or DONs---would approach her about her behavior, let alone actually fire her.
Well, as you all know, I'm not the most easily intimidated of humans, so one day when I saw her outside for the fifth time in a single shift, I decided to confront her right there by the old milk can that served as both an ashtray and butt-holder.
"Tina," I began, "I know you're on break, and in fact that's what I came to talk about. I've been getting complaints from some of the other staff........"
To my astonishment, this crusty, hard-eyed woman burst into tears. "I know," she sobbed. "They treat me like garbage because I just moved into an apartment with two guys. We're roommates, for crying out loud, not some kind of freaks who all sleep together---not that it's any of THEIR business!" She gestured with her chin toward the dining room window, where the aides could be seen getting residents settled in for Bingo. "They're always gossiping and running me down, even to the residents! In fact, Mrs. Mendoza screamed at me the other day for being a 'hussy', and she's never given me trouble in all the years I've been here."
There was more in the same vein, but suffice it to say that I did NOT wind up giving her the stern warning I'd planned. In the space of ten minutes, I'd learned more about this employee than I'd known in the entire eight months of my tenure, and seen a side of her that I hadn't known existed. So before I was even aware of what I was doing, I began taking "non-smoke" breaks with the rank and file.........and over the years, I've discovered that the smoking area is more or less the twenty-first century version of the water cooler: it's the place where everyone is equal and the chitchat flows like green beer on St. Patrick's Day.
It was around an ashtray that I once learned from a co-worker that a new resident was a sex offender who'd been kicked out of a nursing home in a distant state for touching staff and other residents inappropriately. She knew this because she'd worked at that facility at the time he was a resident there and been one of the people he'd assaulted (I promptly notified our administrator and APS, who should have been furnished with this infomation before he ever moved in, but I digress). It was on the back stoop of an ancient LTC that I met one of the best friends I've ever had as she puffed on an unfiltered Pall-Mall; we remained friends until her death in 2005 from pneumonia. And even today, when I need to know something about a resident or to keep an eye on a troublesome staff member, I can just follow my smoking friends outside to the small patio and listen to them chatter about everything under the sun........because sooner or later, that critical bit of information or that slice of wisdom will come through.
Besides: what is a workplace without its "space" where employees can gossip, joke around, and vent? At my last job, the management came up with the brilliant idea to make the entire campus smoke-free. That meant that any resident who smoked had to stop or be moved, and staff couldn't even smoke in their cars when they were parked on company property. Well, THAT went over like a lead balloon.......and when the dust settled, we were absent several employees, plus the sense of camaraderie we'd once enjoyed and taken for granted. And according to my buddies who are still there, that feeling has never returned.
For my part, I still don't get why so many medical people continue to smoke---not in a time where so much is known about tobacco's dangers, and when social opprobrium is at an all-time high. And I can't imagine any reason good enough to start smoking again, even when I have my bad days and fantasize about taking a nice long drag........or snorfling a nice stiff drink. But in the middle of it all are an ashtray and an easy companionship, within which co-workers of all statuses share their concerns, tell a joke or three, and do some good old-fashioned bonding.
Psssst........anybody got a light?
