Take Ed, our resident Oscar the Grouch. He's a World War II vet who also worked as a train conductor; his manner is gruff, and his language is often as colorful as the Oregon Ducks cap he wears. He enjoys nothing more than to wheel himself about the facility, advertising his presence by periodically calling out his own name, "Ed-DEEEEEEEEE!" or whatever occurs to him at the time.
So one night when he complained to me about "not bein' able to hear as good as I usedta", I checked his ears with the otoscope. Sure enough, he had a heavy buildup of cerumen in both ears, and I informed him of this as I put away the instrument and washed my hands. Next thing I knew, he was cruising down the hall announcing "Ear WAX!" to everyone he met along the way.........and grinning like the cat that ate the canary!
This is the same guy who once made a late-stage Parkinson's patient, who never even cracks a smile, break into hysterical laughter by hollering "STOP!! Yer mashin' m' boys!" at a CNA who was trying to straighten him up in his chair. He is also the same resident who made a humorously clumsy pass at me one evening when I was checking his blood sugar:
Ed: "Y' know, I need ta find me a woman."
Me: "Well, there are a lot of single ladies here......."
Ed (looking me up and down): "Nah......I think you'd do, though."
Me (chuckling): "I think my husband might have a problem with that, Ed. Besides, you don't want this old bag---you want a pretty young thing."
Ed (eyes twinkling madly): "Honey, I'll take any bag I can git!"
Then there's Elaine, who's well into her eighties, wildly demented, and as funny as they come. She is cheerfully profane, and she will bless you and curse you.......sometimes in the same breath. I was working with her roommate one late afternoon when she called out to me: "Hey, Mary!" (Elaine calls everyone either Mary or Philip, and to this day NOBODY, including her family, knows who Mary or Philip really are.)
Me: "What is it, Elaine?"
Elaine: "Why do you think I keep itching all the time? This itch is driving me crazy!"
Me: "I think it's because when we get older, our skin dries out a lot, and when it's dry, it itches sometimes."
Elaine (quizzically): "How do you know that? How old are you?"
Me: "I'm fifty, Elaine."
Elaine: "Oh, well, that explains it---you've got some years on me."
Me: "Oh, really? How old are you?"
Elaine: "I'm forty-three........and I'm PREGNANT! Can you believe that (stuff)?"
And there's Carol, Heaven bless her. She is seventy, looks fifty-five, and acts like she's nine. She's as full of mischief as any two-hundred-pound hemiplegic "kid" can be; having suffered two serious strokes, her impulse control is non-existent, and her dry wit and her barbed tongue, on top of her physical challenges, are too much for some staff members.........hence, I handle most of the day-to-day interactions with her. It's OK with me; I think she's got great comedic timing, and her one-liners are priceless.
It was late in the evening; Carol's roommate, who is only about three times more demented than Carol herself, was having a conversation with..........nobody. This drives Carol up the wall, especially when it goes on all day and half the night as it did that time. I went in to give her the bedtime dose of Lantus insulin, and she pantomimed "talks too much" with her good hand, rolled her eyes, and mouthed the words, "Quack, quack, quack!" This immediately struck me funny, and I snorted, which made her giggle, and then we both broke up, cackling madly while the roommate continued gabbling to herself. It wasn't very nice, and I made myself stop........but only as long as it took to get out of the room entirely!
Another time, I'd been off for a four-day stretch when Carol wheeled herself up to the nurses' station and announced loudly that she thought she'd hurt the feelings of the nurse who'd taken my place. "I TOLD HER YOU WERE A BETTER NURSE THAN HER BECAUSE YOU DON'T HURT ME WHEN YOU GIVE ME MY SHOTS!" she bellowed, obviously enjoying the effect her words were having on the same nurse, who was easily within earshot as she was standing at the neighboring nurses' station at that moment.......
She also has a fascination with Las Vegas and believes that she and her boyfriend, who lives in an assisted living facility a few miles away, will someday go there and get married. One day I went in and caught her halfway out of bed, having disengaged her personal alarm so that it wouldn't go off and spoil her plans to sneak out. I looked down at her, trying to be serious, and asked, "Carol, wherever in the world do you think you are going?"
Her eyes danced merrily as she responded: "Vegas. You wanna be my matron of honor?"
