(no subject)
So, my life is bo-or-ring.
I get up, at some point I go to work, where I get people up, wash them, dress them, comb their hair, brush and put in their false teeth, put in hearing aids, move them in and out of wheelchairs, put them on the toilet, give them baths, serve food, spoon feed, strip beds, wash clothes/towels/sheets, clean sinks and toilets, wash dishes, clean the kitchen, light cigarettes, write/read letters, empty cath/colostomy bags, make and serve endless cups of tea, set tables, clean hands, amateurly manicure nails, clean glasses, search for lost belongings, hold hands, give kisses and cuddles, listen to endless complaints, give out pills and medicines, apply creams, eyedrops ear drops, dress bed sores, turn people on bed rest, find where they hell they've decided to hind the incontinence pads this week, put them to bed for 25 ladies and 1 gentleman. Most items repeated, especially the ones that involve lifting. And tasks varying depending on the time of day I'm on.
The point is it's boring, boring, boring. Once I've moaned about it once, what's the point of repeating it over and over, or complaining about whoever has diorhoea or scabies or MRSA or a rectal/vaginal prolapse this shift. It's boring. So, you know, don't expect many updates in the meanwhile. Sometimes I this I should get myself a that involves fewer bodily fluids, and no one hitting me, spitting on me, biting me, hurling abuse at me, or dying (the dying is the worst, because as annoying as some of them are, I really do love the ladies (and gentleman)). But in the end, it suits me, it's by and large, my kind of work.
So, intersting (ish, don't get your hopes up) things.
-Edith Lord pulled some of my hair out when I was trying to put her knickers on after her bath. Am now very paranoid I have a bald spot, my Mum says she can't find one but I'm still paranoid.
-One of the old ladies son(he's about 60 I think) came and found me, Rachael, and pregnant(but still smoking!) Rebecca, making the tea in the kitchen, and started going on about how a woman's place is in the kitchen. Then, when Rachael said she didn't cook for her fella, he starts going on about how she should be looking after him because "us men are an endangered species, we die earlier, ha ha ha ha". I satisfied myself with rolling my eyes and muttering 'spare me the misogyny' because it's not worth my (ultimately rubbish, but still) job. Considering ranting to Rach and Pregnant Rebecca(with a boyfriend who hits her) when he was gone, but well, restrained myself.
-Got asked by a co-worker where I was from, again! and got told I didn't sound like I was from Oldham. It happens often enough to be funny. Can't win, in Oxford most people think I'm dead Northern, and then I come home and they all say I sound posh. And you try telling people that the other half of the country thinks different and they're incredulous.
-I've got a day off tomorrow, and I'm going to Alton Towers (a theme park). Hurray! Hurray! Hurray! I am riddiculously excited about this. Besides, I need a day off for my skin to recover. Hurrays!
I get up, at some point I go to work, where I get people up, wash them, dress them, comb their hair, brush and put in their false teeth, put in hearing aids, move them in and out of wheelchairs, put them on the toilet, give them baths, serve food, spoon feed, strip beds, wash clothes/towels/sheets, clean sinks and toilets, wash dishes, clean the kitchen, light cigarettes, write/read letters, empty cath/colostomy bags, make and serve endless cups of tea, set tables, clean hands, amateurly manicure nails, clean glasses, search for lost belongings, hold hands, give kisses and cuddles, listen to endless complaints, give out pills and medicines, apply creams, eyedrops ear drops, dress bed sores, turn people on bed rest, find where they hell they've decided to hind the incontinence pads this week, put them to bed for 25 ladies and 1 gentleman. Most items repeated, especially the ones that involve lifting. And tasks varying depending on the time of day I'm on.
The point is it's boring, boring, boring. Once I've moaned about it once, what's the point of repeating it over and over, or complaining about whoever has diorhoea or scabies or MRSA or a rectal/vaginal prolapse this shift. It's boring. So, you know, don't expect many updates in the meanwhile. Sometimes I this I should get myself a that involves fewer bodily fluids, and no one hitting me, spitting on me, biting me, hurling abuse at me, or dying (the dying is the worst, because as annoying as some of them are, I really do love the ladies (and gentleman)). But in the end, it suits me, it's by and large, my kind of work.
So, intersting (ish, don't get your hopes up) things.
-Edith Lord pulled some of my hair out when I was trying to put her knickers on after her bath. Am now very paranoid I have a bald spot, my Mum says she can't find one but I'm still paranoid.
-One of the old ladies son(he's about 60 I think) came and found me, Rachael, and pregnant(but still smoking!) Rebecca, making the tea in the kitchen, and started going on about how a woman's place is in the kitchen. Then, when Rachael said she didn't cook for her fella, he starts going on about how she should be looking after him because "us men are an endangered species, we die earlier, ha ha ha ha". I satisfied myself with rolling my eyes and muttering 'spare me the misogyny' because it's not worth my (ultimately rubbish, but still) job. Considering ranting to Rach and Pregnant Rebecca(with a boyfriend who hits her) when he was gone, but well, restrained myself.
-Got asked by a co-worker where I was from, again! and got told I didn't sound like I was from Oldham. It happens often enough to be funny. Can't win, in Oxford most people think I'm dead Northern, and then I come home and they all say I sound posh. And you try telling people that the other half of the country thinks different and they're incredulous.
-I've got a day off tomorrow, and I'm going to Alton Towers (a theme park). Hurray! Hurray! Hurray! I am riddiculously excited about this. Besides, I need a day off for my skin to recover. Hurrays!