(Several years ago, for Christmas, I found an old letter to Santa where I asked for my gifts to be given to people in more need than me. Moved, and knowing my family are all big givers at Christmas, whenever they ask what I want I tell them about the letter and ask them to donate to charity in my name. One night, my father-in-law drives me home after my wife leaves our family workplace early in our car, and this exchange occurs.)

Father-In-Law: “You know, [My Name], I’m glad we got this chance. I wanted to talk to you about Christmas. You know, your mother-in-law likes giving gifts at Christmas, and she is upset that you won’t tell her what you want.”

Me: “I’ve told all of you I’d like you to donate to a charity in my name.”

Father-In-Law: “Well, don’t expect that from us. She feels she has to buy everyone a gift.” *adds with a laugh* “And I just don’t believe in charity.”

(Flash forward to this Thanksgiving. He and my mother-in-law are now going through a divorce which he unilaterally announced last Thanksgiving. In order to fit in an additional dinner to our schedule, and to save us the time and money for making a Thanksgiving dinner for just him, my wife and I invite him to our church’s Thanksgiving dinner. He behaves himself well enough, but on the way home, we have this conversation:)

Father-In-Law: “It’s good for you all that you have your little community, but I don’t think I’d go again. The price you pay is too high.”

Me: *thinking, the meal was free* “What price?”

Father-In-Law: “I guess the price you people charge for that meal is making us listen to those stories about God.”

Wife: “Yes, it’s Thanksgiving, Dad. We like to share with each other what we are thankful for. We used to do that.”

Father-In-Law: “Well, I don’t think it’s right that you all feel like you have to get together in a certain place with the same people. I talk to ‘The Man Upstairs,’ as I like to call him, and he tells me that I don’t have to go to a building to communicate with him.”

Wife: “Yes, that’s true, but he does tell us not to forsake gathering together.”

Father-In-Law: “But why is that?”

Wife: “Because, like parts of a body, we rely on each other for help doing things we may not be able to do ourselves.”

Father-In-Law: “Well, that may be true, but you don’t need a church to do that. You can take care of other people just any way you want. What I think is that the church is made up of people who say they want to help each other, but in the end, it’s just the preachers that take what people give for themselves. I’d rather not deal with that. No, I’m happy to rely on myself and not darken the door of a church.”

(Flash forward to the present. My father-in-law is looking into a retirement home, and we are along to tour the facilities.)

Tour Guide: “This is our extended studio apartment option. For your budget and living situation, it’s the largest living space we’d consider.”

Father-In-Law: “Well, I don’t know about living in some studio for the price you’re charging. Don’t you have houses?”

Tour Guide: “We have one house on the property, but it is currently occupied and is usually reserved for couples.”

Father-In-Law: “Doesn’t your location in [Large Suburb of Nearby Major City] have mostly houses?”

Tour Guide: “I’m not sure. We’re a separate company. One man founded several long-term care facilities throughout the country and named them all after his favorite theologian.”

Father-In-Law: “Well, it’s funny that you do this as a business, then! Why, back in those days, people of the church would take care of the elderly as a charity!”

I work the front desk at a retirement facility. We normally serve dinner from 4-7 but because of a possible hurricane we’ve moved it up to 1-4 so the staff can leave earlier. Most of the residents are understanding of this change, but some are not so understanding…
Resident: Why did they move dinner?
Me: Because of the storm
Resident: But they didn’t let us know!
Me: We posted notices on everyone’s door, it’s posted on the daily schedule board, there was a public meeting about all the schedule changes, and the dining staff have been telling everyone who passes by. We have done everything we can to let everyone know.
(I pull out a copy of the notice and show her precisely where it explains the change of dinner time)
Resident: But not everyone knows! We had a 3:30 appointment and the other ladies I sit with might not know!
Me: If you’re not meeting until 3:30 you’ll still be able to go into the dining room
Resident: But they don’t know! you should call them and tell them!
Me: Ma’am, the dining room will still be open at 3:30
Resident: (looks at notice again) But they’re open until 4 so we can still go in, so we’ll be ok, right?
Me: (facepalm)

Overheard working in a nursing home. Resident talking with visiting family member and sitting on large, cushy, wing back chairs by the door meant for visiting.

Resident: Lets go back to my room, I don’t like these chairs. I don’t think they are comfortable.

Family Member: Well if they know you don’t like them, they should get new ones!

Note that this area is a common area and not a private area for this particular resident.

(I work as a trainee in a care home. I’ve been there just three days. This is my second traineeship, which will teach me specific nursing skills, like inserting a bladder catheter, stoma care, wound care, etc. It’s afternoon and I’m working with two coworkers who aren’t happy with me being there. Normally, they’d sit in the staffroom telling trainees what to do, but since this is my third day, I haven’t got a clue as to what to do exactly, which means that they need to show me. An alarm call comes in from the apartment of a married couple. We go there to see what’s wrong. When we get through the front door, the smell of faeces hits us. Going through to the living room the smell gets worse. We find the husband, who has Alzheimer’s, nearly in tears. He points us to the bathroom where we find his wife, sitting on a stool, covered from her shoulders to her knees in faeces. She has managed to partly undress and it’s immediately clear that her stoma bag has exploded.)

Coworker #1: “Yeah, not dealing with this!”

Coworker #2: “Me, neither!”

(And they both just leave. I can’t believe what I’ve just witnessed. When the woman sees them leave and sees me, she starts bawling her eyes out. I know she hasn’t had her stoma for long and she’s only seen me once, this morning, when I asked her if I could watch her stoma care and help her. She knows I haven’t handled anything like this before.)

Me: “All right, let’s get you undressed.”

(I peek around the door and ask her husband to grab five towels, two bin-bags, and underwear for his wife. To my amazement, he comes back with exactly what I asked for a short while later.)

Patient: “You never did this before; you can’t handle this. It’s a mess!”

Me: “Yes, it is, but we’ll do this together. You’ll see; it’ll be fine.”

(I dress up in gloves and a plastic apron and begin to undress her, throwing the clothes on the ground near the shower, but far enough from her that she won’t stand on the faeces. I give her the showerhead and start peeling off the stoma plate. This, together with the stoma bag, goes into one of the bin-bags. By now, she starts feeling a bit better. The smell still isn’t nice, but since a lot of faeces is being washed down the drain, it’s getting better. Her husband asks if everything is all right. I tell him yes and ask him to make a cup of tea.)

Patient: *crying* “Why did they leave? Why did they leave you here?”

Me: “I don’t know, but I’ll get you sorted. Your husband is making tea, so when you’re dressed your cuppa is waiting.”

Patient: “Thank you for doing this.”

Me: “Yeah, well, I want this to be my job, so it’s no big deal.”

(When she’s clean and feeling better, I transfer her to the toilet so she can get dressed. Normally, I’d do this on the stool, but since it’s not entirely clean in that area I have to transfer her. Meanwhile, I rinse out her clothes and put them in the other bin-bag, to go into the washing. When she’s dressed in her underwear, I help her with her stoma materials. I walk her to the bedroom to get dressed further and clean the shower as best as I can without the proper materials. She’s still wobbly from her experience, so I go and check on the husband. He’s boiled the water, but then forgot what he was supposed to be doing. I make tea for both of them and, when I’ve written in their patient book what has happened, I go and check on them again.)

Patient: “Thank you, dear, for everything you’ve done. Now, go get the signature you need for that stoma care. You’ve done great, considering they’ve left you while they knew you hadn’t handled anything like this before.”

Me: “Thank you. I’ll try to talk to them about this. It’s horrible that they left you like that. They shouldn’t have.”

Patient: “I know, but I’m glad you were there.”

(I take her clothes to the laundry room and the coworker there washes them immediately. I find one of the cleaners, tell them what happened, and ask them if they have time to clean the bathroom. They agree. I then walk to the staffroom where I know both coworkers and the manager will be for their tea break.)

Me: *slamming my workbook on the table before both coworkers* “Sign here and there.”

Coworker #1: *looks at where I’m pointing* “I can’t sign this; I haven’t seen you doing stoma care.”

Me: “Of course, you haven’t. You both walked out on the patient while she was covered in faeces from her shoulders to her knees. If I remember correctly your words were, ‘I’m not gonna deal with this,’ and you left her there, in tears, covered in faeces.”

Coworker #2: “I—”

Me: “You did the exact same thing. You walked out on her, too.”

Manager: “What? You left a patient who needed help? [My Name], can I see the book?”

(I give her the book and she signs without hesitating.)

Manager: “You go home early today; you’ve done enough. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” *points to the two coworkers* “You two, in my office. Now!”

(The next day, I’m a little scared to go back, as I know leaving a patient who needs care is a really bad thing to do. When I get to the staffroom, both coworkers who should’ve been working aren’t there.)

Manager: *when everyone else is present* “I just want to tell you guys that [Coworker #1] and [Coworker #2] have been placed on unpaid leave for six weeks due to negligence. They’ve left [Patient] with our trainee when she badly needed help. This is inexcusable. You all can understand that, right? Now, [My Name], can you come to my office later to fill out a few witness statements about what happened yesterday?”

(I agreed and we all went to work. I was inundated with questions from other coworkers about what had happened and they were all appalled by my responses. After I’d filled out the witness statements, a couple of weeks went by where we heard nothing more of either coworker. After four weeks, we found out one had been let go as she’d had a warning about negligence before, and the other found another care home to work with.)

(My coworker, who has just come in for her shift, comes up to my desk. She’s in her 20s and a fairly intelligent person, or so I thought. By my desk is a small coffee station for the residents, visitors, and staff.)

Coworker: “Is there any coffee up here?”

Me: “Probably not by this time of day. You could try in the kitchen and see if they have any.”

Coworker: *whiny voice* “I just did. They don’t. What do I do now?”

Me: *pause* “You could make some?”

Coworker: *eyes go wide* “Oh… I guess I could do that!” *trots off happily to the kitchen to do so*

Me: “I need to go home now.”