Be free

Today, I felt like... Well, I did, fall short on personal and inttrpersonal expectations from the get-go. My insomnia kicked my butt. I cancelled plans so I could sleep, I was tardy to work, everything started out completely wrong. But I got a text from my mom (who is one of the several that I let down today) that said "Mary, don't be overly anxious about things today-- I know where your heart is. Be free. I love you."
She totally set me free. She didn't excuse me, but she didn't blame me either. She gave me the freedom to deal with what I am/was going through, and the freedom to accept the grace comes with failure. Moms are the BEST. And my mom envokes and embodies Christ. My cup overflows.

My work day was crazy. Everything went beautifully until about 6:30. My residents were fed, my dishes were cleared, all my residents were (or seemed to be) in a happy, post-dinner, I'm-full-let-me-sit-and-enjoy-my-carb-coma-nonchalance mode. Then I heard it. The unmistakeable "fall" sound. I knew a chair had been toppled over, I was just praying to God that one of my residents was not occupying said chair. Boy, was I wrong. In the literal two seconds it took for me to run the ten feet over to the source of the noise, all bets were off. I had a resident on the floor with blood pooling from his head. I was RIGHT THERE, how could I not have prevented it?! But there he was, still in his chair, but toppled sideways on the floor with drool streaming out from the corner of his mouth and trembling from the impact of the fall. I took a half look at the underside of his head that hit the floor and realized oh shit, call the EMTs. Head wounds can look exaggerated, they bleed profusely no matter the severity. But this one was the most extreme I have seen. I lifted his head to put a towel underneath, and the blood from the gash steadily streamed like the source was an open faucet tap. I do not exaggerate. So, with bath towels steadily saturating with blood, I sat with this man still crumpled in his toppled chair on the floor while I waited for some more backup so I could safely sit him and prop him up in order to apply some pressure to the bleeds. The ambulance was soooooooo quick to arrive, and with the EMTs, several firefighters as well. I felt very "triage" and professionally nursey with my gloved hands and bloodied towels and (to my slight chagrin, my own bloodied sneakers) as I informed the personnel about the incident and my resident's history. I was secretly amused at the somewhat subtle but easily recognizable surprise on the many burly and hulky emergency-men's faces when I was able to mostly lift and stand up this 6 foot tall dead weight resident of mine so they could get him on the gurney. Being a CNA builds lots of muscles, people, and you learn how to lift in sometimes seemingly impossible and weird ways. Our backs may suffer but our biceps remain!

Said resident is thriving after this incident, and I have since gotten bigger (actually smaller, yet feisty and combative) new fish to fry in terms of new admits. Im glad I'm good at my job. And I'm blessed to feel honored to do it. These are my elders and they deserve all the respect in the world for what they have and are currently experiencing.

I'm getting really good at handling dementia. Is there a specific career I can pursue straight from cna to expertise here? I have so much insight. So much advice. So much love and understanding for this population.

Who knows. I am blessed and honored to do what I do.