The nurses' assistants--know why they call them that? without them, where would nurses be?--the nurses' assistants went into high gear after supper. Three of them have to tend to about twenty-five people (a guesstimate) , getting them ready for bed and tucked in.
Most of the elderly residents are moderately to severely disabled. Middle-aged residents may suffer from effects of debilitating accidents--such as partial paralysis or other impairment. In other words, it's far from easy helping these people to bed.
Meanwhile, as I walk down the hallway because I'm leaving for the night, I hear a thin voice--"help me," which is not uncommon. In fact, I can hardly ever walk down the hall without being summoned, myself, once or twice. Often residents mistake me for a nursing assistant, I guess. Usually I will stop, at least to put on the call light. I didn't tonight. One of the nurses' assistants beat me to it. "What's wrong?" she said, walking in that room.
I am thinking about how worn out a helping person can be after day in and day out responding to these calls, of "help me." The residents are surely not to blame for needing help, or for feeling helpless, for they often are. And the nurses' assistants are stretched so thin they are almost a blur, disappearing through doors, appearing in the hall, running here, rushing there.
Those who are in it for the long haul, who do it respectfully and well, really are my heroines. I don't have heroes, because I don't believe in exagerrating stature. But the nurses' assistants are my heroines because in their roles they are not endowed with stature--but, they walk tall, oh man, do they walk tall. The worst of men, the best of men, the most mediocre of men, and women, should all walk a mile in their shoes.
It's snowing tonight, the kind of big gloppy flakes that will freeze on the pavement as the temperature continues to fall. The nurses' assistants who came to work at 5 a.m. drove in the dark, on slippery roads, some from adjacent towns. The afternoon shift of nurses' assistants who leave work at 11 pm, will drive home in the dark, on icy roads, exhausted, spent, but strong in the knowledge, I hope, that they are the salt of the earth.
The nursing home industry as a whole needs reform, and the nursing home where my mother lives needs an overhaul, but on nights such as this one, when I walk out the door and leave them caring for my mother, I feel intense gratitude to those young (most of them are young) women who carry our crucible. And I pray they arrive home safely, that I see them again another day.
