Last friday, the 28th of May I was at work. Having been recently given a promotion to a Restorative Nursing Assistant, RNA for short, I get to work with residents doing therapy instead of manning the bedpans and assisting with showers. I think some of the residents picked up on the new vibe I have been giving out, and started to act out in response.
One lady in particular, we'll call her Betty age 87 with Alzheimers, decided to make my day. Early into my shift, she decided to wake up and start her morning laps. Betty is one of the more mobile people in the facility and has a busted old crimson walker with a black wire basket that doubles as a seat. The basket is stuffed, dare I say busting with useless artifacts found throughout the home. Napkins, kleenex, romantic novels, plastic spoons, music books stolen from the piano room, assort
ed cups from the dining hall, etc. Betty is quite the character.
As Betty was doing her laps around the hallways, she saw me and made a bee line towards me. Fearing for my shins (They have been collided into by many a walker) I put my hands out to stop the advancing metallic device. Betty then proceeded to invite me back to her room for a "good time" as she put it including the quotation marks. I respectfully declined, but to mixed shock and horror, she decided to not wait for a room. I can only assume that she felt her birthday suit was more appropriate for the situation as she started to unbutton her blouse. Having worked at the home for several months, I was well equipped to handle the situation. Buttoning up the blouse and assisting to the dining hall for breakfast, she started to talk about her desire for a family. I assured her that she already has one and I am looking for a younger woman.
Those were the wrong words.
Remember now that we are on our way to the dining hall, which is right next to the front door. One of out corporate officials (who incidentally looks like a carbon copy of Dolores Umbridge) was visiting and had just walked in as I uttered my desire for a more youthful bride to Betty. I could instantly tell this was the perfect storm. Betty looked me in the eye and exclaimed "Well then why am I wearing your clothes?" Just after that, a very Umbridge style cough came from the frog-like woman. But Betty was not done... then she said, "we might as well get married."
Realizing I could not salvage this conversation at all, and fully expecting Miss Umbridge to have a few words for me after work, all I could do was laugh. For some reason, I am talented with the middle aged woman, and experts with the elderly ones. I think I am going to have to consult with Sam about the younger ladies... he would know.