Missing the Point
What is the definition of a caregiver? Someone who toilets patients and changes them and answers call lights? Someone who deals with old people? Someone who wears scrubs and gets yelled at? Well that all is true, but to me the definition of a caregiver is a lot more than that. To me a caregiver is someone who lovingly cares for someone as if they were their own loved one, through tough times, through pain, through frustration and loss, to be a shoulder to cry on, a friendly hug when necessary, a listening ear when someone needs, and a cheerleader for good times. :) This week I noticed how I get to be a listening ear constantly.
I have just barely added a new job title to my resume--administrative assistant. I have been doing paperwork, running little errands, etc. for the administrator to help her catch up on some work around the office. It means that I can wear high heels to work (what?!) have normal office hours, and not run for any call lights. It also means some much needed rest on a weary CNA body, which I am grateful for. Because my new job is so flexible I have a little more liberty than I do as a CNA or Med Tech, and I enjoy it, and got to appreciate it the other day. I entered a patient's room to check her extension cords, and was just going to run in and out. I knocked as I came in her room, and as I started hunting behind furniture and piles of assorted items for the outlets, and we exchanged polite greetings as I roamed around. Just as I was about to leave, I heard her say "Did you come to talk to me? Oh, you don't have time, do you?" looking crestfallen, as if she already knew the answer. I stopped, and my heart was touched. I felt horrible for all the times, that because of time limitations and the demands of other patients, I have had to daily rush out of rooms without a chance to interact. This time, however, I had a chance to slow down, if I would take it. I walked over to her as she sat in the recliner with her feet propped up on the foot rest, grabbed her wheelchair which had been sitting nearby, and steered it next to her side, and sat down. I was happily able to reply "I actually did." :) We went on to have a five minute conversation, but it surprised me how satisfied I felt when I slowed down and was able to give the care that my job was initially made for.
I not only had that opportunity, but one more that week of a similar nature. I was working a graveyard shift, it was about 4:50am when a call light on my team went off. It was a routine call light, I already knew what the patient wanted before I got there, but as I approached her room I saw another patient's family member sitting in the hallway with her face in her hands, shoulders shaking, and knew she was quietly sobbing in the hallway away from her mother so as not to wake her. I needed to get the call light, but how could I walk past someone in such misery? I was torn, and decided I would stop. I squatted down, put my hand on her shoulder, and asked what was wrong. That action started a twenty minute conversation for this poor daughter who is burdened with the physical worries for her mother, and the emotional worries for a beloved son. She merely needed someone to listen, someone to understand, and I hope I was able to be that comfort for her. Sitting cross legged on the hallway floor in the wee hours of the morning and being a support to someone in need was a wonderful moment for me, and strangely enough, refilled my soul as I tried to recharge hers.
I think sometimes as caregivers we miss the point of our job! To me, a caregiver is not just a machine who can lift, change, and shower patients. I am blessed to care for not only physical bodies, but to ease emotional agony and battle the loneliness that comes with an age when people tend to forget you. I am so grateful for my job and the ways it opens my eyes to see the feelings of others.
I have just barely added a new job title to my resume--administrative assistant. I have been doing paperwork, running little errands, etc. for the administrator to help her catch up on some work around the office. It means that I can wear high heels to work (what?!) have normal office hours, and not run for any call lights. It also means some much needed rest on a weary CNA body, which I am grateful for. Because my new job is so flexible I have a little more liberty than I do as a CNA or Med Tech, and I enjoy it, and got to appreciate it the other day. I entered a patient's room to check her extension cords, and was just going to run in and out. I knocked as I came in her room, and as I started hunting behind furniture and piles of assorted items for the outlets, and we exchanged polite greetings as I roamed around. Just as I was about to leave, I heard her say "Did you come to talk to me? Oh, you don't have time, do you?" looking crestfallen, as if she already knew the answer. I stopped, and my heart was touched. I felt horrible for all the times, that because of time limitations and the demands of other patients, I have had to daily rush out of rooms without a chance to interact. This time, however, I had a chance to slow down, if I would take it. I walked over to her as she sat in the recliner with her feet propped up on the foot rest, grabbed her wheelchair which had been sitting nearby, and steered it next to her side, and sat down. I was happily able to reply "I actually did." :) We went on to have a five minute conversation, but it surprised me how satisfied I felt when I slowed down and was able to give the care that my job was initially made for.
I not only had that opportunity, but one more that week of a similar nature. I was working a graveyard shift, it was about 4:50am when a call light on my team went off. It was a routine call light, I already knew what the patient wanted before I got there, but as I approached her room I saw another patient's family member sitting in the hallway with her face in her hands, shoulders shaking, and knew she was quietly sobbing in the hallway away from her mother so as not to wake her. I needed to get the call light, but how could I walk past someone in such misery? I was torn, and decided I would stop. I squatted down, put my hand on her shoulder, and asked what was wrong. That action started a twenty minute conversation for this poor daughter who is burdened with the physical worries for her mother, and the emotional worries for a beloved son. She merely needed someone to listen, someone to understand, and I hope I was able to be that comfort for her. Sitting cross legged on the hallway floor in the wee hours of the morning and being a support to someone in need was a wonderful moment for me, and strangely enough, refilled my soul as I tried to recharge hers.
I think sometimes as caregivers we miss the point of our job! To me, a caregiver is not just a machine who can lift, change, and shower patients. I am blessed to care for not only physical bodies, but to ease emotional agony and battle the loneliness that comes with an age when people tend to forget you. I am so grateful for my job and the ways it opens my eyes to see the feelings of others.
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