Friday Funny

While a crying resident isn't too out of the ordinary around here, a hysterical one is.  That's what we had on our hands last night. True hysteria.  This is a fairly new resident, who up until last night has been a peach and is always oriented with a sharp mind. 

She was sobbing and blubbering.  Questions made her cry harder.  A compassionate arm around her shoulders made the blubbering worse.  Finally, FINALLY, we were able to get down to the nature of the problem.

"I, I, I have u-u-uranium p-p-poisoning!" (imagine Ralphie saying "soap poisoning" here and you'll have a pretty good picture of the dramatics going into this.)

"Uranium poisoning??" we asked incredulously.

"Yes, and it makes me lose my mind!"

"How do you know you have Uranium poisoning?"

"B-b-b-because my p-p-pee is neon yellow," she explained.

"Do you mean a Urinary Tract Infection?"

Yup. That's what she meant alright. 

I just love this place.

Wednesday Nuggets

One little guy with dementia (who is so sweet he gives me a tooth-ache) woke up really disoriented this morning. When WorkerBee suggested he get up and go to the bathroom, he sighed and said: "All right. If you want to hold it, you can."
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I hate wearing shoes, and usually kick them off under my desk. Yesterday, as I flounced through the lobby in my bare feet, Garnet remarked that I was "Better Foot." "Do you mean barefoot," I asked? "Nope. I mean Better Foot. My kids used to call it that...and if you think about it, it really is better." Agreed! I love it.
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Gladys thinks that Naomi* has stolen her vacuum (every single day) and she keeps coming to my office to "report" it. She gets really upset...which is one of the reasons her quick wit always catches me off guard. The last time she came to tell me about it I promised her I would contact Naomi's family and get the vacuum back for her. Gladys responded with "That's so very nice of you, but I think the whole situation sucks." I laughed all afternoon.
~~~
*still dead

Blahs and Big Butts

I did make it home from Puerto Vallarta, although the lack of posting this week might have indicated otherwise. Between playing catch-up from vacation and trying to adjust to total darkness at 5pm (not to mention all the damp, cold rain) I haven't felt like doing anything besides putting on flannel pants and curling up with hot tea. Blah.

Anyway...

Here's a little story about Garnet, who is 91 years old, about four feet tall, very tiny, and incredibly grouchy. After lunch she came wheeling into my office with her walker. "Look at this," she barked. (I really love it when people stand right inside my office door and bark a command without so much as a "how-do-you-do or have an apple").* I acted like I didn't hear her (sometimes I am so juvenile) because her tone of voice immediately pissed me off.

"I SAID LOOK AT THIS," she repeated as pissed off as she had just made me. She pointed to her walker. I didn't see anything and asked her what I was supposed to be looking at. "It's BROKEN! JUST LOOK! The bolt is coming out of the seat!"

The bolt was not coming out of the seat. There was nothing wrong with the walker. I tell her this. (These walkers have seats on them, so the resident can actually use them as a chair or to transport things....like Pearl's purse)



She didn't like my response. "IT IS TOO BROKEN! And do you know HOW it got broken?" she asks while a waving finger in my face (I'm a big fan of fingers in my face, too).

"I have no idea, Garnet" I sighed, "How?"

"Pearl sat on it, that's how!! She sat right down on my walker like she owned it and you KNOW she has to weigh over 200, all she ever does is eat, eat, eat! Everytime I look at her she's eating something! "

At this point I'm totally done with this conversation because although it is a little bit funny, talking about how much someone weighs is just mean. Garnet, however, wasn't quite finished with me yet. "She can't sit on her own damn walker because it's so loaded down with crap**! YOU need to tell her to KEEP HER BIG BUTT OFF OTHER PEOPLE'S WALKERS!"

And with that she turns in a huff and leaves.



*20 bonus points to anyone who knows what movie that quote came from. Sorry, Taralyn, you can't play.

** I am still looking for the best opportunity to snap a picture of Pearl's walker for your viewing pleasure. Hang in there, it's forthcoming.

Oh My Maude

Friday morning at breakfast, Lois got to the dining room a little late. WorkerBee showed her to an empty seat at the table where Maude always sits. If you haven't yet read about Maude, be sure to read this post. And just to make it even more clear how much Maude dislikes any change at "her" table, then be sure to read this one, too.

So anyway, Lois (who has dementia and usually doesn't even realize where she is) takes one look at the table and says to WorkerBee very matter-of-factly: "I'm not sitting here if that old bitch is coming." Very hilarious, but Maude did not come to breakfast and all was well.

About an hour ago Rock Ridge called "just to let me know" about what happened during lunch today. Apparently Lois was feeling more comfortable about sitting at Maude's table since she enjoyed breakfast there on Friday. Today, however, when she tried to sit at the table Maude told her she couldn't. When Lois didn't move, Maude picked up her glass of water and slammed it onto the table shattering it into bits and spilling the contents all over the place. The whole episode delayed lunch by about 15 minutes. Which means all the rest of the residents were probably pissed off, too.

Glad I'm at home today.

No Egos. Ever.

Last Friday it was time to suck it up and do the 20-mile training run I had been putting off since my IT band has been so crazy. It was a beautiful morning and the run was going pretty well. About 14 miles into it, Partner and I stopped by Rock Ridge for a pit stop. We were running right by anyway, and it was a convenient water stop(and as it turns out, a quick restroom break!)

I was wearing normal running attire...my fave Brooks shorts, a tank, and a hat. No one in the lobby recognized me. Which was fine, because obviously we needed to get in and out quick.

This morning a Resident stopped me and said she didn't realize that was me here on Friday morning. I laughed and said, "Well, you usually see me dressed up." To which she replied: "No, it was that you looked like a boy."

Should I be embarassed, or flattered?

The CEO of our company visited today. Needless to say, a certain amount of stress is generated just in knowing the big boss is coming.

This is why I was holding my breath when Grumpy Resident introduced himself to CEO first thing this morning. One never knows what might come out of the mouth of a resident. It went something like this: "if you think you can run this place any better than her I'd like to see you try!" Aggresive, angry tone. Like CEO was there to fire me or something.

It could have been worse. Much, much worse.

Sticks and Stones

Apparently a resident tried to sit in the wrong seat at Maude's table yesterday. Just to be clear, we still do not have assigned seats or tables. No, this makes no difference to Maude.

Maude looked right at the perpetrator and told her she couldn't sit in that seat. And just for good measure she added "you bug-eyed old bag!"

H. E. Double Toothpicks

Gladys used to have a roommate, Naomi. When they first moved in another resident dubbed them Fric & Frac...and although at the time I wasn't sure he should be calling them that, it really did suit them!

One day WorkerBee went in to clean Gladys and Naomi's apartment, where they were watching Jerry Springer on TV. WorkerBee told them why she was there, to which Naomi responded: "C'Mon Gladys, let's get the hell out of here." And they put their purses on their arms and made their way down the hall, making me think of two of the sisters in Hocus Pocus.

For some reason, I laugh every time I think of Naomi saying "let's get the hell out of here," to the extent that Hubby and I have made this our regular statement of departure. Whenever it's time to leave...we get the hell out of there.

Thanks, Naomi.

Thanks...I think?

“I can live for two months on a good compliment.”
—Mark Twain [Samuel Clemens] (1835-1910), essayist, humorist, novelist

I gave a resident a hug the other day and while she was squeezing me she said "you're so skinny these days I can almost get my arms around you twice."* I laughed and thanked her for the compliment. To which she replied, "Well, you needed to do something. You were really getting kind of hefty."

There's no way you could possibly get the Big Head while working here.

*I've lost thirty pounds in the last year. While I don't think I'm actually all that skinny, I do feel a hell of a lot better. Thank you Weight Watchers!

Aiding and Abetting

Evidently I'm taking care of a foreign national by letting him live in the attic here at Rock Ridge. He comes down in the evenings to eat, but otherwise just stays in the attic. Sometimes the Resident can hear him bumping around up there.

The resident told the daughter that I'm too nice to tell this person he can't stay in the attic, but the resident just doesn't think it's right to be hiding a foreigner in "today's day and age." And that is why the resident told the daughter. And why the daughter called me. And why I love my job today!

Overheard

I definitely don't need a radio when I can catch all this live right outside my office door.

Freddie's Daughter: "Dad, I'm going to pull the car up and pick you up."

Freddie: "Oh, we're leaving now?"

Freddie's Daughter: "Yes, we need to get going."

Freddie: "Well, then I better go drain the radiator one more time before we leave."

Ten Toes Up, Ten Toes Down

Gladys comes into the office. Unbrushed hair, wringing hands, completely distraught. She is so upset I can hardly get her to tell me what is wrong. I have to ask multiple times. She finally sits down and asks "Did anyone say anything about me this morning?"

"Uh, no. Like what?"

"Oh good heavens it must really have been a dream! Well, not really a dream it was more like a nightmare!" She is extremely animated, sitting at the edge of the chair, taking big, deep breaths.

So I ask what the dream was about, assuming it would be about missing keys or someone breaking in or some other caper that goes along with her slight (but darling) paranoia. I was wrong.

"I dreamt I had a man in bed with me!! It seemed so real. I dreamt that I got up and went out into the hall and told him to come into my apartment and then when I woke up there he was in my bed! Can you even imagine such a thing??"

She is so serious, and so...frazzled. And so worried about "what would everyone think!" She is 91 years old! This is damn funny. I giggled. I just couldn't help myself! So I ask Gladys, "Well, was he good looking?"

Gladys, who has Alzheimer's, starts laughing, and rolling off the one-liners as fast as she can. She says "Well, it wasn't his face I was looking at!" Which makes me laugh even harder. "And if he was good looking, I wouldn't be down here telling you about him, I'd still be in bed!" She then describes how real the dream seemed and that she lay there for a minute and finally decided she had better check the bottom of the bed to see how many sets of feet there were. I am laughing so hard my eyes are watering, and Gladys is full-out belly laughing. It was so awesome to hear her laugh like that.

Like all good things, our laugh-fest had to come to a close. Gladys left the office. And then...

In walked Assistant. "What happened to your chair?" she asks, as I glance at it.

And right there where Gladys had been sitting... is a perfectly round, great big, Wet. Spot.

She's Got a Ticket to Ride

I'm sitting in my office acting busy and hear my assistant talking with a resident outside the door.

Assistant: "Hi Marvin! How are you today?"

Marvin: "Well, that's what I was just sitting here thinking about."

Assistant: "And what have you decided?"

Marvin: "That I'd sure like to know where I could find some pussy."

I choke on my coffee. Assistant exclaims "Marvin, that is inappropriate!" Marvin says something else even worse. Assistant tells him to stop talking like that, but he keeps at it. He tells Assistant many things best left unsaid by someone as old and stinky as Marvin. He even offered her money.

So Assistant says "Bible Study starts in ten minutes. I think maybe it would be a good idea for you to go today." I have to admit, I admire her quick thinking about the Bible Study. However, she should have thought her next move through a little better.

Marvin: "I would go, but I don't want to walk that far."

Assistant: (planning to take him in the wheelchair) "That's no problem. I'll just give you a ride."

Just use your imagination. I didn't just choke on the coffee this time, it actually came out my nose.

Yes, dental care now can save you from embarrassment later!

Tootie was this itty-bitty tiny little firecracker of a lady. What she lacked in size she totally made up for in class. She taught me to save the good stuff, which for Tootie was Madeira, for after 4:00 p.m. If you wanted a little taste earlier in the afternoon, that was OK, but make it something cheaper.

Tootie is also the person that made me look the most forward to getting old. Apparently, when you are 89 years old you can say whatever the hell you want. At lunch one day a new resident, Mrs. Bennigan, sat with Tootie. She took one look at Mrs. Bennigan and said, "If you can afford to live at Rock Ridge then I'd think you could afford to get a tooth."

And that pretty much sums up the conversation that day.

Freddie My Love

I walk in the door this morning, and Freddie (age 96) is on his way out. He has his cane and is wearing his hat (I wish I knew what kind of hat it is called, but the picture will have to provide the visual. Trust me, he's way too cute in it, whatever it's name is.) Anyway, he really is about the most adorable 96-year-old thing you've ever seen.

Me: "Hi Handsome! Whatcha doing?"
Freddie: "Just waiting for you to hug me."

I readily comply and give him a big squeeze. To which Freddie says: "Here I am living with all this beauty, and I'm too damned old to do anything about it!"