It is a question I am often asked whenever I meet new people. After the how-do-you-dos are said and the subject inevitably turns to "what do you do?", I almost always get sympathetic looks and comments on how I must be such a saint to work in a nursing home, with "all those senile old people" who are "just going to die anyway".
"How can you stand it?" they want to know. "Don't you ever get depressed/bored/frustrated/angry having to take care of people who can't even go to the BATHROOM by themselves?"
The short answer, naturally, is No. I love what I do! I don't necessarily love everything about it---the sheer volume of paperwork comes to mind immediately---but the long answer is this:
1) I do this work, in part, to honor my parents' generation. I was orphaned relatively young, and some of what I miss about having parents are the stories........of the Depression, of the hardships that shaped their characters, of the war that defined America at its best. At the nursing home, my residents may not remember my name or what they had for breakfast this morning, but they can recount, in vivid detail, every moment of their wedding day or a battle they took part in. There will never again be a generation like theirs; I want to hear as many stories as I can and cherish them in my heart, for once they are gone, no one can take their places.
2) As a Baby Boomer, I'm no youngster anymore, and there are already two generations after mine who remind me of that every day. But hanging out with eighty- and ninety-somethings tends to push away any thoughts of creeping decrepitude and make me feel positively youthful........especially when one of my old gentlemen tells me in all seriousness, "you may not be a spring chicken, but you're still beautiful to me".
3) Caring for the elderly is a ministry as well. Whenever I hold a glass of water to dry lips, spoon food into a hungry mouth, or assist a resident with repositioning to make him comfortable, I am reminded of Jesus' words: "Whenever you have done it to the least of these, you have also done it to me." Knowing that helping the helpless is pleasing in His sight makes the less-glamorous aspects of the work much easier to bear, and I like to think that perhaps I could be helping one of His angels in disguise!
4) The word 'serendipity' has become more than a word; it's a way of life. How can there possibly be anything on earth better than earning a decent living doing work I love?
5) Contrary to popular opinion, LTC isn't boring. I get the opportunity to use whatever creative gifts I possess on a daily basis. What other healthcare setting gives one so many chances to learn how to improvise (wrapping washcloths around the ripped upholstery on an old wheelchair to prevent skin tears when the resident's insurance won't pay for a new one), think critically (hey, wait a minute, let's do a fingerstick before we give that Ativan---Mrs. P. gets agitated only when her blood sugar's too high), and face adversity without panicking ("OK, this resident's toes just fell off in my hand........he's not freaking out, he doesn't even know it's happened, so let's be cool now")?
6) I've discovered that a place that deals in decline and death just happens to be a great laboratory in which we can learn much about life. I am probably never closer to understanding the purpose of my existence on this planet than when I am caring for someone about to leave it. It is an honor and a privilege to be the last voice another human being hears, the last touch he or she feels as life slips away. It's never easy.......but I wouldn't trade my experiences with the dying for anything.
7) Oh, and as if all that weren't enough: I get to have fun at work! And I have an appreciative audience for my funny and dramatic sides---the residents love it when I tell corny jokes and recite silly poems, when I stomp down the hall singing old songs in a loud and off-key voice, and when I dress up in outrageous costumes on the different 'theme' days. I enjoy keeping the mood on the unit light, and even my more curmudgeonly folks tend to respond favorably to my efforts in therapeutic communication. Like the time I was checking a blood sugar and forgot where I was for half a second; I'd just finished a Coke, and when I went to say something to the resident, a horrendous belch issued instead..........which to my surprise resulted NOT in condemnation, but raucous laughter! To this day, she doesn't remember my name, but she knows my face and voice, and she tells everyone who'll listen: "That's the nurse who burped---she's my favorite!"
And that, folks, is how I can "stand" working in LTC. For whenever I touch one of these dear old souls, I realize once again that it's really been the other way around all the time.
