JUST ANOTHER CALL LIGHT

BEEP...BEEP...BEEP...BEEP... The sound of yet another nursing home call light was driving Dave nuts. It flashed above the door, signaling the room help button had been pushed. It was Mrs. Nelson again and this time she was screaming. "Help me, help me, oh please help me!" She was red in the face from yelling when Dave got to her room. Lines of worry and panic were etched across her brow. "My room, my room, I can't find my room! Where am I?"

"This is your room, Mrs. Nelson," Dave was trying to calmly reassure her. "NO, NO! I can't see my blanket! I can't find my chair! Someone has put me in the wrong room!" Her voice raised in pitch with each new sentence.

"Your roommates draw curtain is in the way, that's why you can't see your things...look." Dave said, pushing the curtain aside. "Oh, my word!" she screamed. "It IS my room! I'm saved! You saved my life! How can I EVER thank you?" Suddenly she was hugging Dave and saying, "Oh, thank you, thank you!"

"You're welcome, Mrs. Nelson. Just look at that beautiful sunshine through your window. Can you believe it's December? Why don't you sit down here for awhile and enjoy the view? I'll see you later when lunch is served." Dave was anxious to be on his way.

How can I possibly take care of so many people efficiently when every resident living here wants all my time? Provide quality health care, I was told by my supervisor. Put the resident first, she said, but also make the beds, dress the patients, bring them to meals, feed them, document what they've eaten, and bring them back from meals.

Then, toilet them, visit with them, but not too long, do the charting, take their vitals, refill their water mugs with fresh ice and water, pass out snacks, empty the laundry bins, let the charge nurse know if anything unusual happens, be careful in lifting or transferring patients and get it all done before quitting time because, remember, overtime hours are greatly discouraged. This new additional task I have, Dave thought, is even more disturbing. I'm getting paid an extra dollar an hour to make sure other hospital orderlies (men) and hospital aides (usually women), are doing their job. Aides & Orderlies might also be called NA's (Nursing Aides) or CNA's (Certified Nursing Aides).

Dave pondered whether all the work was really worth it. They send us to a 10 week CNA course. Most of us are just out of high school, trying to go to our freshman year of college. We get paid a little over minimum wage and are working just hard enough to keep from getting fired and they are paying us just enough to keep us from quitting. Some of us are already married, with children. Some are attending vocational schools. Some are here till something better comes along. Some are attending Nursing School. A few of us want what's best for the patients or residents, regardless of the compensation, because we want to help others...a very few of us.

My boss said she thinks I'm one of those. Did she really think that or did she just need someone to fill the title of "CNA Coordinator?" I'm not so sure. BEEP...BEEP...BEEP...BEEP...Dave Burton was pulled out of his thoughts by the sound. Answer all call lights within three minutes, his boss had said. Yeah, sure, he thought. I'm lucky if I answer my wife that quickly.

"What's up Randy?" Dave said as he walked into his room. Randy was one of Dave's favorites at the facility. Randy had been a maintenance man, working here but had contracted M.S. and had become a resident. "Cccccan you cccchange the cccchannel on the TV, ppplease?" Randy shook as he talked and couldn't help but hold his head off to the side as he did so. He was only 25 years old but had lost almost all control of his body. He couldn't even roll over without help. He spent his day in bed or in his wheel chair and Dave and others had to move him often to prevent him from getting bed sores. When he sat in his wheel chair, he had to be strapped in to prevent him from falling out.

"Sure Randy, how's that?" "Greaaat," said Randy, barely able to speak above a whisper. "Anything else you need Randy?" "Wwwater ppplease." was the reply. For most folks, helping them get a drink was no big deal but for Randy, he had to be sitting up with his chin resting mostly upon his chest, to keep from choking. Randy weighed in at about 225 lbs. A small CNA couldn't move him by themselves but Dave was a big guy himself, having played football most of his high school years. Randy's bed was not electric and could not be cranked up so Dave put down the bed rail, placed Randy's heels over the edge of the bed, twisted him around and set him up, with Dave's knee and chest supporting Randy's back. Dave then used his hands to support Randy's head and the water mug. It was a bit tricky, but Dave had done it many times before. "Nice & slow Randy, you don't want to choke." Dave encouraged. "Yyyeah." Randy whispered. It took a few minutes to swallow and not shake, taking slow sips, but the job was finally done.

Once Randy had been given a drink, Dave told him the latest joke. "Hey, Randy; did you know that there are three kinds of people in the world...those who can count and those who can't. " That was a thinking man's joke and Randy thought about it for a few seconds and finally did his Randy laugh, which was a stare into space, combined with a wide grin and then a "Haaa... That was a good one." Just then another CNA named Janet came in to take care of Shane, Randy's roommate. "Hey Janet; has Randy been shaved today, he's looking a little scruffy?"

"His electric razor needed charging earlier, but it should be good now, I'll shave Randy as soon as I'm done with Shane," she replied. Shane was about 23. He had a broken neck from trying to kill himself in an auto crash and was on a ventilator so that he could breathe. He could only move his head, was very needy and talked incessantly but didn't really say much. Shane was extremely jealous of any attention Randy got and had pushed his call light by turning his head, when Dave was in the middle of helping Randy.

"Anything else Randy?" Dave asked. "Nnno, that's about it...ttthanks." "No problem Randy." The Nurse's station was just outside Randy's door and Karen, the registered nurse, called to Dave. "Check with Mrs. Wilson, Dave. She's watching the playoff basketball game and may need some help dressing." Dave entered her room which was right next door to Shane & Randy's. Mrs. Wilson's roommate had moved out and so she was occupying the room by herself. She had a clear mind and could pretty much take care of herself, but had some serious gastric problems that kept her in her room most of the time. "Oh, Dave, help me find my clean, white nightgown before the game starts. I think it's in that dresser over there." "You bet," Dave responded. "Here you go, can I get you something else?" "No just cross your fingers that my team wins." "Of course, they're my team too!" Dave countered.

Mrs. Wilson frequently would scream and yell at the TV and was the biggest female basketball fan in the entire nursing home. BEEP...BEEP...BEEP...BEEP...It was Mr. Evans room; we called him Frank. He had been at the facility for years and was suffering under dementia and confusion. He was pushing his call button more often than any of the other 60 patients Dave had. Conversations with him seldom made sense. "My call light doesn't work," Frank was saying as Dave walked into his room. "I push it and nothing happens," he quietly mumbled. He was blankly staring at the oblong switch with the red button on the end, connected by a cord to the wall.

Frank was stooped over his recliner, his skin gray and wrinkled, his head bald. He was in his mid-eighties and every movement seemed to be a strain. "Let me try it," Dave said, pushing and extinguishing the light repeatedly to check for a malfunction. "Seems OK to me." "I'm telling you it's broke. I've been pushing it for hours." "Frank, I was just in here ten minutes ago. Why didn't you say something about it then?" "What are you talking about?" Frank said. "I've never seen you before in my life!"

"Is there anything else I can do for you Frank?" Dave finally replied, deciding to ignore the whole issue. "Yes, I need to go to the bathroom." It was barely audible. "The doctor said I better start using my walker, so don't put me in my wheelchair like you did yesterday." "How could I have been the one that put you in your wheelchair yesterday, Frank? You said you never saw me before."

"I don't understand what you're saying," Frank said, furrowing his brow. "Never mind Frank. Dave helped him onto the toilet. "Push the call button when you're ready to get off." Dave was 22, a nursing major and had taken this job to help him to learn a little of what it was like to care for others. He hoped to go on to medical school after he got his Bachelor's in Nursing, but that was still a long way down the road. Dave finally got through taking vitals without much interruption because the two female CNA's that worked with him, answered the call lights. He had no sooner put down the blood pressure cuff when BEEP...BEEP...BEEP...BEEP...it was Mrs. Wilson's room. The basketball game must be over and she wants to get into bed...strange but she usually does all that herself. As he entered her room, he was not prepared for what he saw.

Her bed was covered in blood. It shone bright red against the white sheets and nightgown and she could barely speak..."Dave, something is wrong." she groaned. She was excreting large quantities of blood and vomiting blood at the same time. Dave tried to get a towel and help her but there was little he could do. Her call light was still flashing when Karen, the nurse, walked in. If she had not known Dave, it would have looked as if he had just committed murder. Dave was covered in her blood as well. Despite all they tried, Mrs. Wilson died a few moments later. "What could have caused this Karen? She was fine a few minutes ago?" "I don't know, I don't know," Karen sobbed, "but it's out of our hands now. Clean up the body and I'll notify the doctor and call the mortician."

Dave was silently weeping and in shock. Taking care of confused and bed ridden patients was hard enough, but to have one bleed all over you and die in your arms? Was it supposed to happen like this? It took him a few minutes to get changed and get his composure back. Why should he let all this bother him? And then it hit him. Because these are people. They have wants and desires just like me. They need love and care, just like I do. They have lived long and useful lives but now age and circumstance has affected their bodies and minds and they struggle to survive. They don't come here to get better but to live out their last days with as little pain as possible and hopefully with as much comfort as can be provided. I am here to help in that cause, where I can, he thought.

Mrs. Wilson is gone. She herself had been a registered nurse. I wonder how many call lights she answered? BEEP...BEEP...BEEP...BEEP... Dave walked briskly toward the light, shoulders up, head back, with renewed energy.