Getting Older.

As part of my work experience trip, I spent a few days at a care home. I do a lot of theatre productions outside of school and I was lucky that one of the men who usually does the plays with us overheard me going on about how hard it was to get work experience, and how I'd been rejected by so many hospitals etc etc, and mentioned that his daughter owned a care home, and that he was sure she'd be happy to let me spend a few days with her. A truckload of emails and arrangements later I was in a student nurse's car on my way to start work.


Walking into the home, I was a little shocked primarily that the smell that hit me first was roast beef and potatoes. As first expectations go, the home definitely impressed me. It was clean and carpeted, the staff were intensely caring, it felt like a HOME rather than just an institution, you know? But unfortunately my squeaky-clean perception of life in a care home didn't last much past that first day. And that's no fault of the staff, or the home itself, or even the elderly residents. It was the fact that I'd never realised how much we all lose when we get older. About half of the residents were fairly mentally able, but the other half were eye-openingly disabled. By 'disabled' I mainly mean unable to wash themselves or feed themselves - I had to feed one lady a cup of tea - or in some cases even move around, or move at all. There was one resident who didn't speak. She could, the other carers assured me she could. But she didn't. Getting older, it seems we lose so much, that I had almost forgotten we had from taking it for granted so often. Our dignity, our will to interact, our independence, our ability to communicate efficiently, our youth and the way we look.


Most of what I did during my time at the carehome didn't bring me into hands-on personal contact with the residents of course, as I'm not qualified (I mostly did the washing up, hoovered and made tea), but the amount I learnt from observing the way these elderly people lived, at an age you don't see every day (one woman was 104) was unbelievable. On my last day, one lady suddenly, without warning, became very confused. She lay in her chair, screaming for help, eyes closed, arms shaking, like she was in some kind of waking nightmare. No-one could get her to respond to them. The paramedics were called, and as I left the last I heard was that the hospital were keeping her in for tests. The carers told me it wasn't unusual for a resident to become very confused. Since then I've had to reevaluate the lazy way I live my life a little, and realise how much I really have. Honestly, I know it sounds odd, but if you ever get the chance to see the inner workings of a care home for a day, go. You might just leave seeing things a little differently.


A tad morbid for my second post, I know, but who said this process was all fun and games? ;)