Chef Marshall

           Back when I was 24 years old, I trained to be a Certified Nurse’s Assistant. I sat in class, the instructor told us everything that we needed to highlight in our books and we got out early almost everyday. Being a CNA is not difficult, but it was still alarming how easy it was to pass this class. One of the multiple-choice questions on a test asked me what the role of a CNA was. The first option, A, asked if the role of a CNA was to welcome new resident’s to the facility, make them feel at home and provide immediate care for their everyday needs. The other option, B, asked if the CNA’s role was to alienate the resident, and make them feel uncomfortable. When I read this I remember sitting up and looking around the class, and no, not to cheat. It felt like somebody was playing a joke on me.

            Clinicals weren’t much more difficult. I had to serve 100 hours at a long-term care facility. I had a checklist of things that I needed to complete. It included things like give a bed bath, dress a resident, shave a resident, administer range of motion exercises, and assist in feeding a resident. I looked up the place that I was assigned to. It was rated one out of five stars. It was also four blocks from my house.

            One day I was shadowing a CNA who had been working at this place for years. Her name was Tony and she was a firecracker. She laughed, moved at a determined pace and met the needs of the residents with genuine enthusiasm and concern. I think she is what constituted the one star.

            I was trying to keep up with Tony as best as I could. I was helping people into the shower, lathering them up, drying ‘em off and sending them off on their tennis-ball-capped-walker way. I was becoming an efficient helper. Then Tony and I checked to see if Mr. Marshall had wet himself.

            Mr. Marshall would sit on a love seat by the front door for hours. There was a pee pad that he sat on because if he was left unattended for too long, he would wet himself. Sure enough, he had been left unattended for too long.

            Tony and I acted out the routine. I walked Mr. Marshall to his room. Tony picked out some clean clothes for him. She then went to go check on some other students and I took Mr. Marshall to the bathroom to get him cleaned up.

I pulled his pants off and he was standing there in a diaper. I wasn’t quite sure what the procedure was for taking a diaper off before helping someone sit on a toilet. What I figured was, if anything happened between the time I took the diaper off and sat him on the toilet it was no problem because we are in the bathroom and things are allowed to get messy here.

Tony showed up at just the right time. She saw what I was doing and sensed disaster. She suggested that I sit him on the toilet before removing the diaper. I heard what she was saying and knew it was wise. I respected her but, I wanted to do it my way. What a stupid mistake.

As soon as I pulled the tab on the diaper, the weight of the surprise doodoo that was in his diaper forced the other tab to give resulting in the diaper plummeting to the floor like a broken elevator. The feces was dehydrated and had been sat on for a while which flattened it into a disc. It was as thick and round as an Eggo waffle and had the texture of a Boca burger.

Tony laughed really hard. Apparently, I made her day. She promptly reminded me about what she had just suggested. I took it. I deserved it. I grinned and I leaned over to pick up the diaper.

Now, if you have never worn scrubs before, I need to tell you that the pockets on the shirts are too shallow. I don’t know why they are, they just are. If you have something in it that is not secure, when you lean over, it will fall out.

            What I had in my pocket when I leaned over to pick up the diaper was my cell phone. The cell phone was not secured and it did fall into Mr. Marshall’s diaper. An immediate groan came from my inmost. My deflated voice exclaimed,  “OHHH, TOEEEENNY!” She started laughing again. Mr. Marshall had prepared a entrée and my cell phone was the garnish.

Many people will say that working at a long-term care facility is a humbling experience. Many of the residents are reduced to infancy in their physical needs. They require help eating, cleaning themselves and sometimes just help walking down the hall. Knowing that you are giving them things they need but can’t provide themselves is a delicate and honoring position. Much of the work, when explained sounded disgusting, but actually doing it wasn’t. Except for that one moment when my phone fell in a diaper. That was disgusting. Everything else felt normal.