Quiz
Suggested answers are in italics.
‘…but this slight impediment did nothing to interfere with or lessen the affection she and Ray felt for each other.’
50. If Mrs Jenkins had been aware of the developing relationship between Ray and Maureen, what might have been her feelings about it?
• Approving
• Disapproving.
• Surprised
• Condemning
• Supportive
• Delighted
• Awkward
• Shocked
51. How do you feel about it?
• Your own answer.
My opinion? They’re old enough to make their own decisions! Remember that loneliness in old age can, for some people, be very hard to cope with.
‘We have our harvest festival service next Sunday evening… There was no doubt about it, Veronica’s visits did the residents much good… The postman had arrived as usual, just before lunchtime.’
52. How are your residents going to keep in touch with their family, the local community and with the world at large?
• By having access to newspapers, magazines, internet, television and radio.
• By letters and cards to and from family and friends. Staff may have to help with the writing of these, and provide stamps.
• By going out, with a member of staff if needed, on trips to the bookmaker, hairdresser, shops, pub, optician, pantomime.
• By having the community come to them. Hairdresser, vicar, school children, mobile library, dentist.
• By a resident’s family paying to have a phone put into their room or by buying them a mobile phone.
‘Bleeding fingernails!’
53. Be honest • what aspects of caring for old people are (or would be) your least favourite?
• Your own answer.
I have a mega problem with green coloured sputum! Ugh!
‘Enid was in her room, opening her cards with a little help from Jade.’
54. What makes this a happy little scene?
• Enid is receiving uninterrupted personal attention from a carer.
• Jade is allowing Enid to open her own cards, rather than do it for her.
• Enid is given time to read and respond to each card.
• Jade gives help as and when it’s needed.
• Jade reminds Enid that her birthday is going to be celebrated with other residents later in the day, with a cake that has candles and the singing of
‘happy birthday’.
‘…and at eleven on the chosen day thirteen residents and five staff set out for the farm-sort-of-place.’
55. What benefits might Trish, the nurse in charge, Dave, a confused man, and Edna, who is not confused, get from this outing?
• Trish -
• A variation from the routine of the home.
• A chance to enjoy a day out.
• A opportunity to see the residents in a different context, to see them as real people and not only as residents.
• Dave/Edna -
• A chance to vary a monotonous routine.
• An opportunity to experience something different.
• An opportunity to recall past experiences. They might have had pets in the past.
• For Dave, an experience that might help him to live in the real world.
56. When you’re planning a day out for your residents, what factors do you have to keep in mind?
• The residents’ wishes.
• Obtaining the permission of the residents’ families, if this is thought necessary.
• The weather forecast.
• Meals, medications, changes of clothes.
• That the transport is suitable for wheelchair users.
• Sufficient staff to cope with everything.
• Spending money for the residents and staff.
• Check insurance cover for the staff.
• Take first aid items and a mobile phone.
• Check that the destination is suitable for your residents. Does it have wheelchair access, ramps instead of steps, shelter if it rains, toilets for the disabled, and so on.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Present sensuality and past suffering
The night staff received requests for all sorts of things - painkillers, indigestion medicine, tea and toast, brandy, and help to dress in order to catch a bus and do some shopping.
‘Vera. It’s the middle of the night. There are no buses in the middle of the night. Now, please get back into bed.’
‘My daughter will be waiting for me.’
‘Not in the middle of the night she won’t!’
Old Rose could be relied upon to buzz for her soluble paracetamols. She suffered so greatly from the grinding pain of her arthritis that she needed constant pain relief. These aches and pains didn’t lessen at night and on a bad night the old lady would sleep in her armchair.
The main drug rounds took place mid-morning and tea time. A few medications had to be given in the early morning, but thankfully the custom of waking residents up at six with a cup of tea to swallow numerous tablets was on the way out.
Ted insisted on having his tablets early in the morning. An early riser for most of his working life, he still got up, washed and began dressing at about six. When he was brought his tablets and a half mug of tea he was usually at some stage of dressing. He disliked anyone interfering with his routine, so the tablets and tea were left on his bedside table for him to take in his own time.
Henry was a sufferer from Parkinson’s disease, a degenerative disease that affected his ability to do almost everything. His movements were slow and his hands had a rhythmic tremor, but he eventually finished washing and dressing, although it could take up to an hour or so to complete. Although the disease was incurable, the symptoms could be controlled to a considerable degree by taking his Parkinson’s drugs, four doses spread over 24 hours. It was important to take the first dose early in the morning, as soon as he got up, because within a half hour or so his shaking would lessen and his dexterity improve.
Water tablets were the reason for Ralph being woken at six each morning. He’d been diagnosed with heart failure, his heart not pumping blood around his body as efficiently as it should. There was a slowing down of his blood circulation, which allowed minute amounts of fluid to escape from his blood vessels into his skin tissues. Since water runs downhill, his feet would swell during the day. The water tablet made Ralph pass larger amounts of urine than usual for a few hours, reducing the amount of fluid in circulation and lessening the swelling. He would often have visitors during the day or be taken out in the car by one of his daughters-in-law. Giving him the drug so early in the morning would ensure its effects were over by the time any visitors arrived. Ralph, like many stroke victims, also took an aspirin tablet each morning, since it was believed to help in the prevention of blood clots.
Anna, the Deputy Manager, was endeavouring to update herself with the ever-changing prescription drug scene, part of her preparation for applying for a post in the local Intensive Care Unit. During the drug rounds she found it helpful to explain in simple terms to appropriate residents something about their tablets. This was something that the residents appreciated, too.
* * * * * *
Eleven o’clock on a Monday morning was the chosen time to test the fire alarms, if the requirement was remembered. If it was, an alarm would be set off from a different ‘Break Glass’ fire point each time. From the key cabinet in the office a black plastic gadget that looked like a match stick with a hook at one end was taken and poked into a slot on the underside of the chosen alarm. The alarm having been triggered and sounding off at a painful level, a quick but thorough tour of the home was made to check that all the alarms were ringing, all the emergency lights were on and all the automatic fire doors had closed. Staff then gathered at the designated fire assembly point in the entrance foyer.
The alarms were very loud and staff had
to shout to make themselves heard, but fire regulations required that the alarms registered a specified level of decibels. What a valuable and combustible resident such as Beryl would actually hear as she slumbered each night under the influence of twenty milligrams of ‘Perma-sleep’ while the home burned down around her would depend upon whether she was in the habit of sleeping with her hearing aid in or not. However, it was necessary to warn everyone that the fire alarms were going to be tested, not least because it was important that new residents and new staff recognised the alarm when it sounded.
‘Irene, my love, the fire alarms are going to be tested, don’t panic!’
‘What?’
‘The fire alarms. They’re going to be tested. Don’t worry, it’s only a test.’
‘No? My arms? But I never wear a vest.’
‘Irene, listen to me…’
* * * * * *
Tony was in work by seven each weekday morning and off at three each afternoon. Michelle was the part-time weekend cook, a quiet, middle-aged woman and a contrast to the talkative and outgoing Tony. On this particular Monday Tony stayed on after hours. He did this unofficially whenever he was baking and decorating a wedding or anniversary cake, and if the cake was at the delicate icing stage he was likely to stay until late in the evening.
Speciality cakes had been a sideline of Tony’s ever since his appointment at the home. He was an excellent baker and his skilful decorating of cakes was almost unbelievable. Work would begin on a cake many weeks before it was required. Most would have alcohol in them, which meant the kitchen would smell like a pub the next day. Some cakes would be square, some round and some in the shape of a number. He used the home’s facilities because his own kitchen had one problem, he said.
‘Well, not to put too fine a point on it, it’s the wife!’
He would leave his precious cakes wrapped in foil to mature for weeks in the kitchen storeroom, issuing gruesome threats in case anyone even thought to touch one of them. These cakes were not cheap. A three-tier wedding cake decorated with brightly coloured and ornate sugar scrolls, flowers and greeting would cost well into three figures. Taking many hours to complete, they were truly works of art. The charges reflected the time and uncommon skill put into the finished product.
* * * * * *
Ray had left the bedroom door ajar, so Maureen could hear him setting cups and saucers on a tray as he waited for the kettle to boil. She lay in the bed with her eyes closed, thinking how wonderful it had been to once more have a man she loved inside her. To her delight, the excitement had been surprisingly intense after so long. As she waited for Ray to return with the tea, Maureen Biddlecombe felt very content with life.
* * * * * *
The doorbell rang. Steve found Brian Hindmarsh waiting to be let in.
‘Hello Brian!’
‘Hello there, Steve. Sorry to have to ring the bell, but I came out without the key. How are things?’
‘No problems, Brian. All’s well. I take it you’ve called for the fees?’
‘You’ve got it in one, as they say.’
The safe was installed in a corner of the office, and as they made their way down the corridor Steve noticed that Brian walked with a distinct awkwardness. They retrieved the resident fees and staff meal payments from the locked cash box in the safe. The amounts were counted and put into plastic envelopes and both men signed the cashbook. Brian was feeling some considerable pain in his left knee. He hoped nobody would notice, but was sure that everyone would.
‘Well, it’s been a lovely day for November, hasn’t it? It’s been a change to get out and do something in the garden. I’m afraid it’s made the old joints a bit stiff, though. Probably trying to do too much all at once, I expect.’
‘Aye, it’s been a nice couple of days. Let’s hope it keeps fine for our fireworks on Thursday. Will you and Jill be popping along?’
Brian hesitated.
‘Yes, maybe. We might if Jill’s back by then. She’s been away for a few days at her parents. She likes to pop over now and then because they’re not in the best of health. What time does it start?’
‘About seven.’
‘Ok, I’ll mention it to Jill when she gets back, but I make no promises. If there’s nothing else, Steve, I’ll be on my way. I’ll see myself out, thanks. Bye for now.’
He left Steve in the office and began walking with less inhibition down the corridor, pausing to look at the bird’s eye view photo of the home on the way. Getting into the car was awkward. He wasn’t sure if he had sounded convincing about working in the garden. Of course, he hadn’t been anywhere near the garden all day.
‘Oh well. She’s worth it!’
Brian stopped the car at the exit for a moment, changed the CD and drove off. Moments later, a green Audi drove up to the front door. Ray got out and walked around the car, opened the passenger door, assisted his passenger out of her seat and escorted her up to the home’s front door.
* * * * * *
It had been an uphill struggle trying to interest anyone in a fireworks display. Few residents seemed to be bothered about remembering the fifth of November and the gunpowder plot, so it had been decided to invite relatives and friends, staff members and their families to enjoy a buffet and firework display.
At the front of the home was space for seven cars, beyond which a low wall separated the car park from the pavement and road. The car park, emptied of its cars, was the only viable space for fireworks to be let off with relative safety. The residents’ fund had purchased a selection of appropriate fireworks from a local store and this had been supplemented by a gift from the butcher from whom Tony ordered his meat each week. Although Andrew was not as cheap as the supermarket or wholesaler might be, Tony found that he was able to ‘ask for a little favour’ on such occasions as these.
‘Think of it as an unofficial loyalty card sort of thing. I’m a loyal customer and Andrew looks after his good payers. Everyone’s happy!’ And so burgers and sausages could be served, with jacket potatoes and vegetable soup. The evening was dry, but it was cold and the hot food was appreciated. Several parents stood stoically with their children in the car park, their breath clearly visible and ascending with the volumes of pungent smoke from the fireworks. Watching from the warmth and comfort of the lounge were half a dozen residents, their families and friends. Brian and Jill Hindmarsh were also there, making sure they spoke to each family. Even at this early hour several of the residents had already gone to bed.
The display lasted about half an hour and finished with a spectacular catherine wheel which sent out showers of golden sparks. Each child had been given sparklers, and these had been waved about with the usual excitement. And so finished another commemoration of the political strife of a former century between Roman Catholics and Protestants.
Trevor, armed with his bucket of sand and one of the home’s fire extinguishers, was relieved that all had gone smoothly and safely. He was, with the elderly gardener, Frank, thanked by the spectators for ‘doing the fireworks’ and given a polite round of applause. Whilst the two of them cleared the rubbish away the rest of the folk made their way indoors.
‘Gee, it’s good to get indoors!’
‘Nice show, though, nice show.’
‘It’s nice for the old folk, isn’t it! They do enjoy this sort of thing, I always think.’
‘Hello Mr Hindmarsh, how are you?’
‘I’m well. Did your children enjoy the fireworks?’
‘Mum, are there any burgers?’
‘We’ll see.’
‘What did you think, Dave? Did you enjoy those?’
‘Yes, I did enjoy those. Did you enjoy those?’
‘Mum, are there any burgers left?’
‘We’ll see in a minute. Don’t keep on!’
Back in the lounge, groups of adults stood chatting while their youngsters flicked through the TV channels. Several of the children were no strangers to the home. They either had an elderly relative who lived there, a
parent who worked there or had visited the home with the school.
‘Steve, are there any burgers left?’
* * * * * *
It may be a surprise to learn that Remembrance Sunday could have passed off unremembered as far as most of the residents were concerned. Only a few seemed occupied with memories of wartime, of battles fought, of comrades lost and of injuries sustained. All these were men. For these few it was a significant day, a day of remembering events that had occurred long ago but which seemed much more recent, events that never faded from the mind. In previous years the British Legion had left a tray of poppies and a collecting tin in the foyer. But this year things were different. Several visitors came in wearing poppies bought somewhere or other, but it was left for the staff to buy poppies for residents to wear.
Sunday saw the usual Remembrance Day service on the television.
On the television in the first floor lounge, that is. Any BBC programmes had to be watched upstairs. Ted, Samuel, Henry, Ralph and Toby sat like the old comrades they were, united for a while by the service they had given for their country. They watched war veterans, the Royal Family and ever younger-looking politicians lay wreaths at the war memorial. They swapped stories about their days in the services and the action they had seen in various military campaigns. Each was aware that the others were not telling everything they had seen or experienced. They didn’t have to. Each knew well enough what his friends were concealing.
Autumns Colours Page 9