The realities of first-time experiences drastically changed my perception of nursing homes and work as a nurses aide.
At the age of 19 and out of desperation for a summer job, I joined the nursing team at the Alliance Convalescent Hospital in Glendale in the late 1960’s. My mother worked in the kitchen and my father worked in landscaping.
Little did I realize or have appreciation for walking, breathing or feeding oneself. I barely knew how to lock and operate a wheelchair. Clad in a light, white classic pant suit in vogue those days, I began my first day.
My first few days were spent shadowing one of the other aides. I won’t forget the shock of seeing bedsores that had eaten away someones flesh to the bone and lost limbs due to diabetes.
I won’t forget how quick I was thrown out on the floor to manage on my own. I did not feel comfortable or confident and basically learned by observation and on the job. I often felt overwhelmed by the conditions of those in my care and would go home exhausted.
I have never forgotten the smells ingrained in my nostrils, the fish market smell of UTI’s and of a hundred things that can go wrong with the bowels and preventing the next recreational adventure.
To offset my college expenses, I again worked at a nursing home that was located across the street from school in Portland.
After graduating from college, I moved to Southern California. Unable to secure a job in other areas, I began working at the Broadview Convalescent Hospital in Glendale.
These experiences led to many other opportunities to work in senior care through out my life. Some of them were short term while others were longer.
If I could sum up in one word what I learned from those years, it would be PATIENCE.
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