Escapade in Scape-Goating
The daughter of one of our most declining residents is an active fifty-something who can't accept the reality of her mother's increasing disabilities; she has begun spending entire nights in her mother's room, and, with this raised exposure to the machinery of my workplace, has noted some flaws.
More than some, in fact. She made an itemized list of the sixteen (16) most jaw-dropping inconsistencies, omissions, and incivilities that we have engaged in with our residents and presented them (in a professional clear plastic binder) to our deprecating manager yesterday. Yesterday night, we ran into a problem with the resident's medication. We ran out and didn't realize it 'til we stopped the cart in front of her door to give her the eight o'clocks. I was not, incidentally, the one responsible; another MedTech was running the cart and i ran alongside hoping for some pearls of wisdom on how to more speedily complete the major med runs.
Anyway, we realized that she had run out of this Important Medication on first shift and had none in reserve. Clearly, the only thing to do was to call the family and see if, incidentally, they had kept any samples of medicine from the doctor. Unfortunately, to contact the family, we had to contact the Mega-Daughter. The one who had submitted the itemized list upon which we'd been criticized earlier that afternoon.
I was valiant. I was misguidedly brave. "Elizabeth," i says to myself, i says, "this error is clearly not your mistake. You won't be fired over this, you can come to no physical harm; why not try out your glibness of tongue?"
I called the daughter, i fielded unpleasant questions, i greeted her when she arrived in a huff, i called my supervisor (while she was playing some form of tennis) to tell her that a raving resident's relative would be speaking with her shortly.
However, the experience was not in vain - i rescued a little pride from the maw of the daughter and even got a "well done" from my supervisor. Hey, it's no "highly satisfactory", but it's a start.
More than some, in fact. She made an itemized list of the sixteen (16) most jaw-dropping inconsistencies, omissions, and incivilities that we have engaged in with our residents and presented them (in a professional clear plastic binder) to our deprecating manager yesterday. Yesterday night, we ran into a problem with the resident's medication. We ran out and didn't realize it 'til we stopped the cart in front of her door to give her the eight o'clocks. I was not, incidentally, the one responsible; another MedTech was running the cart and i ran alongside hoping for some pearls of wisdom on how to more speedily complete the major med runs.
Anyway, we realized that she had run out of this Important Medication on first shift and had none in reserve. Clearly, the only thing to do was to call the family and see if, incidentally, they had kept any samples of medicine from the doctor. Unfortunately, to contact the family, we had to contact the Mega-Daughter. The one who had submitted the itemized list upon which we'd been criticized earlier that afternoon.
I was valiant. I was misguidedly brave. "Elizabeth," i says to myself, i says, "this error is clearly not your mistake. You won't be fired over this, you can come to no physical harm; why not try out your glibness of tongue?"
I called the daughter, i fielded unpleasant questions, i greeted her when she arrived in a huff, i called my supervisor (while she was playing some form of tennis) to tell her that a raving resident's relative would be speaking with her shortly.
However, the experience was not in vain - i rescued a little pride from the maw of the daughter and even got a "well done" from my supervisor. Hey, it's no "highly satisfactory", but it's a start.