Skip to main content

A Contentious Caregiving Relationship

I'm in a really good care facility, I really, really am.  Therefore, I am loathe to complain as much as I do. It would be incorrect to assume that Bailey Boushay House is an awful facility based on my complaints thus far. On the contrary, it's a fabulous place with mostly high quality caregivers. (I'm in a position to know.)

I'm upset about a recurring problem I'm having with a male charge nurse. The first time I became aware of him was following my arrival, February 2015. I was struggling with caregivers, unfamiliar with my care, who placed me in a situation compromising my breathing. As a paralyzed person, with severely impaired speech, I was fighting a losing battle for my life. I was, however, able to make some noise through adrenaline-fueled panic yelling. He turned away in the hallway, muttering "Oh great, another noisy one." or a close approximate.

I've had numerous negative encounters with him since. When responding to my calls, he used minimal effort to understand my needs, and was content to allow me to use up my energy in futility. Each time he'd respond, he'd politely ask what I needed, then stand there expecting me to verbalize. Never bothering to ask me yes or no questions, as indicated in my care plan. At times, he'd tell me to use my Tobii speech generating device, not bothering to educate himself on the many limitations imposed by any speech generating device (SGD). (i.e. Eye gaze tracking works off light reflection thus tears confuse it; standing in the light source throws it off; tired eyes jerk around rendering it useless; proper positioning of the device is key; each reposition may require a recalibration; unable to rapidly switch applications, like a normal computer; communication on SGD is much slower than speech requiring extreme patience of caregiver; And many times it flat-out won't work properly (nature of the beast).). Neither did he bother to learn how to use an alphabet communication board as indicated in a staff email.

Due to his utter lack of initiative to learn how to communicate with, and thus, care for me, I stopped allowing him to enter my room. His response was to happily exit my room, telling staff "I fired him", and intimating that I had the problem! Not once did he ever come back to my room to apologize nor strategize how to overcome the communication issues! Then, he became the night charge nurse.

The nights he worked, I worried. I may be DNR but it doesn't mean Do Not Rush! I don't have a death wish. While choking, dependent upon him to operate the suction machine to clear my airway, no sense of urgency was employed and then he did not know how to operate the wand. Luckily, I  self-resolved.

Tonight was another wonderous event. I knew who was working charge based on caregiver lethargy. I waited over 2 hours in pissy diapers (never happens here!) I was delivered cold food for lunch and did not eat it. Dinner was all unsafe items for me to eat (vegetable skewers are apparently peppers, stringy onions, and celery). All choke-worthy for advanced dysphasia!!! Thus I got nothing but two teeny weeny mushrooms. Live on that. I was without access to a call button with feet encased in ortho boots. I couldn't get help to be changed or eat. I used my speech generating device to attempt to get help but it was ignored.

I used my only available tools, my Tobii is connected to my iPhone. I dialed 911 hoping to talk to police. I'm not waiting to file a report with the state. Then my Tobii screwed up preventing me from talking to dispatch. The fire department got dispatched.

When the fire department arrived, the charge nurse accompanied them to my room saying that I had "dementia and ALS". Two problems: I do not have dementia. It is NOT my diagnosis nor part of ALS. And, my diagnoses are supposed to be confidential, protected by HIPPA law. He bantered with fire workers in the hallway while visitors were present and loud enough for other patients to hear.

I called him on the carpet for it and called him a few unladylike names to boot. I am not happy! 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Eleventh Heaven

Getting right to it, Tina's Twelve Days of Christmas nears it's crescendo:  ♫ On the eleventh day of Christmas, my true love gave to me... eleven Trophy Cupcakes, ten Snowman bright lights, nine Fran's dark chocolates, eight Christmas crackers, seven cotton candies, six bags of kisses, five red heart ornaments..........four rein-dogs poopin', three chocolate Santas, two red poinsettias, and a glass pickle to hang in the tree. ♫ I have to share with you, the effort my husband is making. He brought me a few different choices for the eleventh day of Christmas: Eleven candy canes, eleven Lindor truffles, and eleven Trophy Cupcakes. Of course, I cannot possibly eat all of the nummy goodies, so my caregivers are, deservedly, getting tasty holiday treats.

More Lies

1 A lot of emotional drama has happened with me once again. First, I went ballistic when my husband sprang another nasty little surprise on me. He told me in an offhand way that he would not be visiting me over the weekend when he was aware all week long that was the case. That was the culmination of a month of nasty little surprises  I got all month long from my conniving husband. I figured out that after he talked me into a limited power of attorney for the purpose of listing then selling our properties, He sold property to his brother. After questioning my husband he feigned forgetting to tell me that he sold some property to his brother. He also told me that he did not list the properties per our expressed verbal agreement. Additionally, he sold a house and four lots for about $25,000.00 UNDER market value. Within the next few weeks, he tells me (after the fact) that he sold our retirement home on a contract basis (again for less than market value) to his brother's daughter...

I Remember...

I remember catching fireflies,  putting them in a jar, as a girl of five. I picked pears off a tree that overhung an alleyway on my route home from school, then enjoyed the forbidden fruit. .I had a golden cat who chased a gray mouse through our living room sending my mother, 3-year old sister, and me screaming atop the sofa and chairs. We lived in a farmhouse and I watched Romper Room. A daddy longlegs skittered across my dirty kid legs as I teeter-tottered on a broken kitchen chair back. I played grocery store and laid out a bedroll for group nap time in preschool. We lived in an apartment attached to a bakery. My maternal grandparents visited and a photo was snapped. Grandma held Dawn and Grandpa held me. I held Grandpa's chin. Walking through the back of the flour-caked kitchen, I saw scrumptious pastries and colorful toys stuck in the cupcakes with my hungry kids eyes. We lived in a two-story apartment building next door to a large farmer's field.  That field was my...