Taking Care 3 (i)

Day One at Remus Lodge - my first day of working in care...

 

       I knocked at the front door and Malcolm answered.  Instead of inviting me in, he stepped out.

       "I'll show you around to the side gate and give you the code so that you can come in that way in the morning."

       The gate opened onto the patio of the back garden.  I looked across the playing field behind and saw the back of mum's bungalow in the near-distance - her living room window open.  I wondered if she was looking up, too, to wish me luck. She knew as much as anyone else how much there was riding on this for me. 

       Malcolm led me through to the kitchen, where the cook, Jill, was clearing up after breakfast.  She smiled quickly as we passed through.  In the front hall, a few residents were bustling around as staff tried to organise them  - putting on coats and shoes, checking bags.  Everyone seemed to be talking at once in high, excited voices.  I could see some others in the side lounge, where the TV was blaring. 

       "This is Will, who starts with us today as the new Skills Trainer."

       All faces were on me in an instant.  I recognised Jake and Derek, but no one else.

       "Hi, Will!" Jake called, pulling a big grin.  He held up his palm and I softly high-fived it.

       "YESS!" he cried, taking a bow as if he'd just scored a goal.

       A tall, thin woman - in her fifties, I would judge - was standing by the office door in a thick brown cardigan and clutching a handbag as if her life savings were inside it.  She stepped towards me and stared at me with wide and happy-looking eyes.

       "W-Will you be taking me to Skills, Will?"

       Malcolm put up his hand in front of her.

       "Give the fellah some space, Shirley."

       "S-Sorry," she said, stepping back again and glaring at him.

       "And what did I just say?"

       "W-Will's the new S-Skills T-Trainer."

       "See... now you've answered your own question, haven't you."

       "Y-Yes," she said.  She continued glaring at him.  Quite a contrasting expression to the one I first saw.  I guessed immediately that Malcolm expected to be listened to. 

       "What is it you want, Shirley?  Your cigarette?"

       The wide-eyed expression was back again.

       "Yes, Malcolm."

       "Yes... "

       "P-Please, Malcolm."

       "I'll get it for you.  Just let me get Will settled first."

       She stood a little away from the door then, muttering something to herself.

       Andrea was already in the office.

       "Hello, Will.  Take a seat."

       Malcolm went to a drawer and took out a packet of cigarettes.  He took one and took it out to Shirley.

       "Go through to the kitchen and Jill will give you a light.  Make sure you're outside before you light it, though."

       "Yes.  Th-Thank you."

       She moved off so fast that she was halfway down the hall before he shut the door.

       "Always in your face if you let her, that one," he said, sitting.  "She usually goes to Skills every day, so she'll keep you busy with the questions.  You have to be a bit firm sometimes because she'll keep you at it all day... bless her cotton socks."

       That last afterthought had an ironic emphasis he seemed to intend.

       "We're trying to cut her down on the smoking," said Andrea.  "She has four a day now, including two at the Centre, which you'll give her.  She was on ten not long ago.  Before that, a packet a day for years.  Her blood pressure isn't good, and she coughs like a sailor.  One of those things we have to keep an eye on."

       They both looked at their computer screens and seemed to forget I was there.  Then Andrea pushed her chair back.

       "Just a couple of bits of paperwork to do, then we'll get one of the staff to give you a tour of the house, show you what goes on.  You can meet some of the other residents, too, though most of them are out this morning.  You can then spend the rest of the day in the staff office, going through the care plans and other important stuff.  I know it's all new to you, but you'll soon come up to speed on it.  The important thing is that you look at the care plans and get familiar with the residents, their conditions, medication they're one and so on.  So, you'll be here for today doing that, then tomorrow we'll get you to go to the Centre with Thandie, whose job you'll be taking over.  Then you can see what goes on there."

 

       When we'd dealt with the preliminaries, Malcolm took me and introduced me to a young care worker called John - about twenty-five, very friendly-seeming, quick and chatty.  He had an air of confidence and authority.  He shook my hand firmly.

       "John will give you the two-bob tour, get you acquainted.  You won't be working in-house, but you need to know where everything is."

       Downstairs housed the galley kitchen and dining room, with a reach-through hatch between them.

       "Residents have to stay out of the kitchen, unless they're trusted," John said.  "There's only a couple like that, though.  Can't risk them messing with knives and hotplates."

       The dining room was brightly decorated and had six tables big enough to seat four at each.

       "Staff on shift eat with the residents, too.  We've got some messy eaters." He chuckled.  "Staff, that is."

       The dining room had sliding doors that led out to the garden patio.  There were two apple trees in the garden and a postage-stamp area at the side where the soil was turned for planting.  Apart from that, it was all grass. 

       "Not a bad size, eh?" John said.  "Big enough for a kick-around.  We have barbies out here in the summer."

       There was a large metal shed in one corner, where they stored all the garden furniture and other bits.  Above its roof, I could see directly across to mum's back garden.  She had her door open and was out there pottering - too distant to see what at.  There was a padlocked outhouse, too, where they stored the freezers and bulk food, plus a couple of industrial-sized washing machines and a tumble dryer.

       "Staff do all the laundry.  The wake-night does the ironing.  All the residents are encouraged to collect their own laundry baskets and put their stuff away if they can, and they bring down their own laundry in the mornings.  It's all about trying to promote independence.  That'll be part of your role, too, at the Centre.  Daily living skills.  So... a bit of cookery, cleaning, self-grooming and looking smart.  Even learning to tie shoe laces.  Some are lazy and expect everything to be done, even though they're capable.  So they have to have constant encouragement.  They'll play you along for a bit as you're new.  Test your limits, push your boundaries.  See what they can get away with.  You have to be firm, hard though it seems.  They're in our care, but they can still do things for themselves.  If you're a soft touch with them all the time, they'll take advantage, bless 'em."

       He took me back in through a side door, past a door to what was - judging by the smell - a toilet.

       "The residents use that one.  Jill's not had chance to clean it yet.  She does the cleaning as well as the cooking."

       We went up to the next floor, where most of the residents' rooms were.  All were empty, except one - Derek's.  We went in and he was sitting at a computer desk.  The small desktop PC and monitor were on, and Derek was moving the mouse around on the Desktop screen, randomly clicking the buttons and pressing the keys on the keyboard.

       "Alright, Del," said John.  "Just showing Will around.  You've met Will."

       He made a sound that I guessed was a 'Yes', then carried on with what he was doing - shaking his head from side to side continually, as I'd seen before.

       "Del spends a lot of time in his room.  He loves his computer.  Doesn't do a lot with it, but it keeps him occupied."

       John scanned the room to make sure everything seemed in order.  There were racing car posters on the walls.  The duvet cover had a racing car design on it, with the steering wheel up at the top edge.

       "He likes cars, too," I said.

       "Loves the racing.  We want to try taking him to Silverstone sometime.  You'd like that, wouldn't you Del."

       In response, Derek looked up and said "Brrrr - Brrrr!" very loudly a couple of times, like a phone ringtone.  "Brrrr - Brrrr!  Brrrr - Brrrr!"

       "Aren't you gonna see who that is, Del?" said John.

       Derek opened a desk drawer and took out a mobile phone, which he started to talk into.

       "Yeah.... yeah.... alright.... yeah...."

       John grinned at me.

       "It doesn't work.  It's an old busted one someone gave him.  He likes to pretend.  He copies staff a lot."

       "Okay...." Derek went on.  "Yeah.... bye! Love yah!"

       He put the phone back in the drawer and carried on playing with the computer.

       The rooms were all furnished with the basics - bed, wardrobe, chest of drawers, chair, bedside cabinet.  Some were a bit bigger than others and had en-suite showers.  All had some kinds of personal effects - photos, pictures, ornaments.  John looked around each, straightening duvets or pillows, picking things up off the floor, drawing curtains properly and so on.  He checked inside the wardrobes and drawers to ensure everything was neat.  In one room, he pulled a drawer right out, shaking his head.

       "This is what annoys me," he said.  "Staff will have put this away.  Look at it.  Just chucked in."

       He tipped the contents - some t-shirts - onto the carpet.

       "They can go back downstairs to be ironed again.  They're all creased up.  People are just lazy.  They wouldn't do it with their own stuff at home - go out on the street in creased clothes.  Why should they expect our residents to?"

       I was impressed by what seemed like his thorough and meticulous approach to things.  We went through all the rooms over the three floors. He showed me a couple of bathrooms, too. 

       "We keep the bath plugs locked away for safety.  Some people are alright in the bath on their own, but we still have to keep an eye.  Others will need assistance all the time with bathing."

       When we'd finished the tour, John took me back down and showed me into another small room on the ground floor, by the kitchen.  It was a miniature version of the main office: filing cabinets, shelves of folders, a cluttered desk with an old PC and monitor on top, coat racks.  A holiday planner was Sellotaped to the wall.

       "Medication room-stroke-staff room.  Staff toilet is through there in the back, with a shower for the night staff, and lockers for valuables."  He pointed to a shelf unit full of files.  "Those are all the care plans for the residents, plus policies and procedures... all the stuff you need to know.  Medications are kept under lock and key in here, including some in the fridge, which is also locked.  We administer the meds in here, too, so when they're being done you won't be allowed in.  Staff rotas are on the wall there.  You can use the computer for anything you need to.  It's got internet, but it's a bit dicky sometimes."

       He then turned back to the shelf of folders.

       "Andrea said for you to go through the care plans, get a general idea about the residents - conditions, likes and dislikes, that kind of stuff.  Then have a look at the policies and procedures.  COSHH and RIDDOR are important - how we keep dangerous substances safe, how to report accidents, all that.  It's a lot to take in, so don't worry too much.  Just get some general idea about things.  You've got all day."

       He told me to make myself a drink whenever I needed, and gave me a notepad and pen.

       "If you've got any questions, just catch one of us in passing."

       Then he left me to it.  My head was already spinning.  I'd expected some sort of introductory folder or similar, or someone sitting with me for a couple of hours to outline the basics.    I looked at the files.  They each had the name of a resident.  They each looked huge.  I took the first one down, wrote the resident's name on the first page of my notebook, and opened up.

(continued) https://www.abctales.com/story/harryc/taking-care-3-ii