Work

Over the years I have learned a lot of things from working as an LPN at a long term care facility. Both from living and dying, from enriching others lives and easing others deaths. These are a few of the things I have taken away.
1. Love can not be taken lightly. I have seen my residents on their deathbeds wait until their family member was there to hold their hand as they went. Their brains far from alert and oriented, they still felt with their heart the love of family surrounding them and it was enough for them to depart from this world peacefully. Sometimes I've been that family member. The strangest thing to know that I wasn't there to hold either of my Grandpa's hands, or my dear Uncle Gary's, or my Grandma's... but I have been there for so many other people's Grandpas and Grandmas and even an Uncle Gary or two. I've also watched a couple hold hands every night with their hospital beds side by side. Unable to hear each other any more, they would shout "I love you" to each other at night, and give the sweetest old people kisses. When the husband started to decline, his wife did too, and they finally passed away only 4 hours apart. I want to go like that. When the love of my life is gone, I want to go too.
2. I want a DNR when I'm that age. I don't need broken ribs from CPR only to stave off me joining my Savior and keep me here in this hellish existence another day. And I want Advance Directives, for much the same reason. No feeding tubes or tracheas or breathing machines and if anyone ever even so much as THINKS about putting a colostomy in... I WILL shoot them in cold blood and then die instead of having it! And THE last person I will EVER put as my DPOA is my son or daughter that is emotional (or my Mom, because I couldn't put her through that). Some people just can't make those tough calls when they need to.
3. Whatever you do, brush your teeth. I'm serious people. Dentures are just weird. And while little old people look REALLY cute when they take them out and their mouths are all wrinkly, I can't stand the idea of taking my 'teeth' out of my mouth. Just ewh. And no steak. Bummer. And definitely no beef jerky. Double bummer.
4. Patience is the biggest virtue you can ever have in life. If you are an absolutely terrible awful person but you only have one good thing about you I think patience is the one character quality you should strive for above all others. Goodness knows you need it when dealing with people. Nuff said.
5. They may take everything away from you, but they can't take your faith. A nursing home is a very hard place to work. These people lose almost everything that they have independently controlled about their lives when they move in. They lose most of their furniture, belongings, even space for clothing in their closets. We give them options of food, but really if you are choosing between liver and onions and bratwurst... how is that really a choice? And of course nothing tastes like it did when you, or your wife, or your mom used to make it. Add to that the fact that if you choose not to eat we will most likely make you drink a carnation instant breakfast shake to make sure you don't lose weight. You lose your dignity every day when staff have to help you get dressed, undressed, to the toilet, and even just to help you bathe your body. We check your weight at least once a week (which, I don't know about you but I do not appreciate others knowing), and if you don't poop we will give you milk of magnesia or shove something up there to make you! As hard as we try, we can't always come the moment you call, and maybe someone is before you in line for the shower or the mechanical lift that is the only way you are able to get out of bed in the morning. Your family is probably freaked out about visiting you in a nursing home because of the smell (I can't lie, smells happen, even though we try). Slowly you watch as friend after friends names appear in the obituaries of the paper that comes every day giving you one last link to an outside world. One thing I have become convinced of from watching all this: you can take away everything around me, and even those I love the most but you cannot take away this one thing I keep inside me: my Jesus. Because even in a nursing home where life seems to be nothing more than eating, sleeping, and watching jeopardy He doesn't stop being relevant.
I'm sure there are so many more lessons that I have learned that don't come to mind right now, or that I have yet to learn. But for now, those are a few of my experiences from the last 3 years of my life.