Working at work and beyond.
There is nothing more wonderful than taking residents out on the town with only oneself to look after them. Here's what happened Monday.
We were scheduled to go to the public library. I called ahead to make sure the library would be open, considering the fact that it was Presidents' Day. The woman on the phone assured me that they were, indeed, open. Satisfied, I loaded up six residents, all but one of whom have moderate to severe dementia, and headed across town.
Of course, after we parked, unloaded, paid for our parking spot, and crossed the street, we saw the little signs posted to the door announcing the library's closure in recognition of the holiday. Crap.
Sensing the residents' disgruntlement, I cheerily suggested that we go to a nearby park to feed the ducks. I take us to a grocery store, buy a loaf of bread, and head for the park. Unfortunately, I've only ever bicycled to this park before and wound up in a parking lot about fifty yards away from the part of the park we were intending to visit. The residents, restless after sitting in the bus while I bought the bread, unloaded quickly and move into the park. They immediately begin chucking bread around at invisible waterfowl. Gradually, I herded the ladies across a pretty bridge and stream to a memorial tree garden. I tell them to wait there while I follow the path over the little hill to make sure it's walker- and wheelchair-friendly before I make them traipse all the way over there. I was gone between three and five minutes.
When I returned, four of the six residents had disappeared completely. One of the remaining two was half-hidden in the bushes, peeing.
This, everyone, is the "greatest generation."
We were scheduled to go to the public library. I called ahead to make sure the library would be open, considering the fact that it was Presidents' Day. The woman on the phone assured me that they were, indeed, open. Satisfied, I loaded up six residents, all but one of whom have moderate to severe dementia, and headed across town.
Of course, after we parked, unloaded, paid for our parking spot, and crossed the street, we saw the little signs posted to the door announcing the library's closure in recognition of the holiday. Crap.
Sensing the residents' disgruntlement, I cheerily suggested that we go to a nearby park to feed the ducks. I take us to a grocery store, buy a loaf of bread, and head for the park. Unfortunately, I've only ever bicycled to this park before and wound up in a parking lot about fifty yards away from the part of the park we were intending to visit. The residents, restless after sitting in the bus while I bought the bread, unloaded quickly and move into the park. They immediately begin chucking bread around at invisible waterfowl. Gradually, I herded the ladies across a pretty bridge and stream to a memorial tree garden. I tell them to wait there while I follow the path over the little hill to make sure it's walker- and wheelchair-friendly before I make them traipse all the way over there. I was gone between three and five minutes.
When I returned, four of the six residents had disappeared completely. One of the remaining two was half-hidden in the bushes, peeing.
This, everyone, is the "greatest generation."