(I work in a nursing home. This particular resident is diabetic and thinks her blood sugar is too low, even if it is normal. This exchange happens after checking her sugar.)

Me: “Your sugar is really high! What have you eaten?”

Resident: “I accidentally drank two shakes!”

(Later I check her sugar again.)

Me: “Your sugar is [normal value] right now!”

Resident: “I think it’s low!”

Me: “No, it’s really good! Keep up the good work.”

(The resident proceeds to eat a chip.)

Me: “Your sugar is good; don’t make it too high by eating those chips!”

Resident: “Oh, my hand accidentally fell into the chips.”

Me: “…”

(I work in the dementia section of a senior living community. We have one resident who is known for her paranoid delusions and her visions of a religious nature. When dementia patients express beliefs that diverge from reality — e.g. that their long-dead spouse is waiting for them in the car, that they are the owner of the facility, etc. — it’s rarely helpful to correct their delusion, because it just makes them more agitated. We just try to keep them safe and calm, and redirect their attention if possible. Sometimes it’s not possible, though.)

Resident: “Did you see them?”

Me: “Did I see what, [Resident]?”

Resident: “The babies. They’re all dead. Satan killed them all, and they’re outside my window.”

Me: “No, I didn’t see them. But I wasn’t looking out the window. Say, [Resident], would you like to join the others in the rec room? We’re having a snack and a singalong.”

Resident: “Attack? Why would I attack you?”

Me: “No, a snack.”

Resident: “No snakes!”

Me: “Okay, how about the chapel? Should we go to the chapel? You could pray for the babies.”

Resident: “Yes, the chapel, that’s good. Let’s go to the chapel.”

(We go to the chapel, which has been known to have a calming effect on this resident in the past.)

Me: “Okay, let’s just have a seat and pray.”

Resident: “TOOL OF SATAN!”

(I turn, just in time to duck the three-foot-long, brass crucifix that is being swung towards my head. The resident, a small, frail lady, apparently snatched it from the altar, and is wielding it like a pick-axe, and her face is contorted in a red ball of rage.)

Resident: “Out! Out, you tool of Satan! You have no power here!”

Me: *knowing that saying, “I’m not a tool of Satan,” isn’t going to convince her of anything* “Oh, s***.”

(I turned and ran. My coworkers heard the commotion, and laughed heartily at the sight of a 6’2″, 250-pound man fleeing from a crucifix-wielding woman half my size. For the rest of my time there, one coworker refused to address me as anything but “Tool of Satan.”)

(I’m a CNA at a local nursing home. I take care of one elderly gentleman in particular that I’ve developed a very good relationship with. He calls me “Sunshine” because of my sunny demeanor, very blonde hair, and love for yellow scrubs. I am chatting with him one evening when this exchange happens:)

Me: *telling a story* “And my friend said, [My Name], what did you do now?”

Resident: *looks confused* “Sunshine, who is [My Name]?”

Me: *laughing* “[Resident], I’m [My Name].”

Resident: *pondering this for a moment…* “No, you’re not. You’re Sunshine! End of story!”

(It made my day!)

This story is part of the Struggles With Names roundup!

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(I work in a retirement home as the activities director. I have a resident who is very forgetful. However, she is always up for anything we do, as long as she can sit in the middle seat in the middle row of our van, because she likes to be able to see everything. This conversation takes place as we are driving down the street.)

Me: “[Resident], you would make the perfect lookout if I ever robbed a bank.”

Resident: “Oh, yeah? Why is that?”

Me: “Because you always know what’s going on around you, and then you forget it 40 minutes later!”

Resident: *laughing* “I wouldn’t tell on you, anyway!”

(Later that day, as we are pulling into the driveway:)

Me: “Now, [Resident], don’t tell anyone about that bank we robbed today!”

Resident: “We robbed a bank?!”

(This is what makes my job worthwhile!)

(As my grandmother hits her very, very late 90s she becomes frail, and her hearing and eyesight begin to dim. Her speech also gets so slow it almost sounds like she pauses between words. But other than that, she has no outstanding health problems, so she’s doing well. She has just had her 102nd birthday, and we, of course, make sure to visit. Thankfully, her mind is still there.)

Grandmother: *on the topic of her birthday* “People keep asking me what my secret is. I tell them to just keep eating!”