h2g2 The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy: Earth Edition

Help! Police!

Betty (names changed) lives next door with Louise. While Louise's hobbies are smoking, watching fish and complaining about the fact that she is still alive, Betty is more profoundly impaired with a neurological disease that looks to this layman like Parkinson's. Very occasionally I see her in the day room. The rest of the time, apart from showers, she remains in her room, sitting in a wheelchair and watching the television.

When I first moved in, I became aware, after the meal, of a quavery soft voice like that of a distant goat. "He-e-e-e-e-e-e-elp," called the voice in disconsolate tones. "He-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-elp!" I asked an aide what was going on and was told, "Oh, that's just Betty." What must visitors think when they walk down the hall and hear that, with aides moving about, showing no concern? Well, there is no emergency, in fact; Betty is hand-fed all her meals, and her other needs are attended to around the clock, but now that everyone understands that she just likes to cry help, they merely glance in as they pass, just to make sure she's squarely in her chair.

Lately, Betty has changed her callout. Now she quavers, "I need a girrrrrrrl!" Betty would probably like company. But we don't have that luxury here, with staff struggling to meet the needs of eleven other residents besides ourselves. The only time we get one-on-one is if we're a Problem.

As I mentioned in a previous journal, restraints are not used at Ladera. If you cannot be sedated or do not respond to sedatives or are allergic to them, then -- assuming this is a situation where staff really really wish they ~could~ sedate you -- you will receive constant attention. You might get one-on-one if:

-you stand on your chair, looking in an imaginary cupboard for an imaginary bowl or imaginary hammer (no folksinging please);
-you disrobe completely and refuse to remain in your room;
-you smear your sleeping room mate with toothpaste;
-you throw your pitcher of water at the aide or try to beat up said aide;
-you pack your things and attempt to leave the building wearing just a robe and slippers;
-you experience intense hallucinations that cause you to scream and struggle, or;
-you are just damn rude and aggressive and loud and mean.

I remember the fellow who was admitted on a Friday, while I was still on the skilled hall. The haldol wore off Saturday night, during the graveyard shift. In the end, three aides held him down, on a mattress on the floor (he kept pitching himself out of bed, seeing his spirit ancestors) until the police arrived, followed by the ambulance. Think about how two aides were not available for their regular patients until that was resolved.

Here on South Back, my own aide, Alice, found herself having to watch a wheelchair-bound wide-awake woman from Skilled even while she was attending to us. The following conversation took place right outside my door:
"Stop pushing me!"
"I'm not pushing you, I'm keeping you from getting up."
"You're holding me down!"
"Yes, that's what I said."
"I will not tolerate this, you are restraining me! You're not allowed to restrain me!"
"Nooo--"Alice was laughing by now -- "I'm restraining you from hurting yourself."
"This is abuse! Call the authorities! Help! Police! Help! Police!"

And all the woman's expostulations were delivered in conversational tone, including the calls for help, as if the police were in my room, ready to walk out and apprehend Alice.

So sometimes getting the full attention of the staff is a bad sign.

I'll admit I ed at toothpaste, and immediately thought of other, less pleasant substances (well, my younger brother did go through a phase of filling my opaque water bottle himself, long enough before I went to bed that it was room temperature)

Everything in that list really happened.

Deb