Liver or pork? Fuck off.
Today I worked at a Residential care home that specialises in dementia care. It took me 40 mins to cycle there, 5 mins to get in, and 30 secs to figure out this was going to be a shit awful day.
The unit I worked on has 30 residents, both male and female, from 63 to 92 years old. All require help and support with day to day tasks. Some are incontinent and dribble, some talk to you like your old teacher and you wonder why they're there until you find out they eat tissues and their own poo. The staff are hard-arsed ladies with hearts of gold and jewelry to match and one dodgy looking rat-faced man that I think offered to cut down a tree in my garden last year for 50 quid.
The building is a nice enough: one level rat run, built by the cheapest bidder to last 3 years, 7 years ago. The corridors, flanked with black and white pictures of old film stars, do little to brighten the place up, in fact I found them depressing. Not only are most of these stars dead, but I bet they didn't spend their last days wearing odd slippers and trying to finish their lunch quickly before the poo lady comes and licks their fork. .
The large lounge has rows of high back blue chairs and a massive flat screen tv. It sort of looks like a retro cinema or possibly the "Star Trek Next Generation" mess hall set, full of "Shaun of the Dead" cast members. Three things add to this feeling:
Today I worked at a Residential care home that specialises in dementia care. It took me 40 mins to cycle there, 5 mins to get in, and 30 secs to figure out this was going to be a shit awful day.
The unit I worked on has 30 residents, both male and female, from 63 to 92 years old. All require help and support with day to day tasks. Some are incontinent and dribble, some talk to you like your old teacher and you wonder why they're there until you find out they eat tissues and their own poo. The staff are hard-arsed ladies with hearts of gold and jewelry to match and one dodgy looking rat-faced man that I think offered to cut down a tree in my garden last year for 50 quid.
The building is a nice enough: one level rat run, built by the cheapest bidder to last 3 years, 7 years ago. The corridors, flanked with black and white pictures of old film stars, do little to brighten the place up, in fact I found them depressing. Not only are most of these stars dead, but I bet they didn't spend their last days wearing odd slippers and trying to finish their lunch quickly before the poo lady comes and licks their fork. .
The large lounge has rows of high back blue chairs and a massive flat screen tv. It sort of looks like a retro cinema or possibly the "Star Trek Next Generation" mess hall set, full of "Shaun of the Dead" cast members. Three things add to this feeling:
1. The sliding patio doors at either side, allowing residents to go in and out for air, and staff for smokes only lack that swoosh sound
2. Everybody is either falling over, holding onto chairs, or shaking as if the place is shaking from another Klingon bird-of-prey attack
3. The call bells from residents needing help and the telephone are rigged to an almost completely ignored RED ALERT siren.
The afternoon's entertainment would have bored the shit out of my 2 year old god-daughter, with colouring books and magnetic darts on offer as the only mental stimulation for people who can't go out into the real world anymore.
With the staff hogging the darts, and the only person colouring being poo lady (who I'm pretty sure ate more crayons than the average nursery school would use in a year), I guess the residents weren't too impressed either. Still, at least her poo would look more appealing 6 hours down the line and would probably have more colour than the food served at lunch.
The afternoon's entertainment would have bored the shit out of my 2 year old god-daughter, with colouring books and magnetic darts on offer as the only mental stimulation for people who can't go out into the real world anymore.
With the staff hogging the darts, and the only person colouring being poo lady (who I'm pretty sure ate more crayons than the average nursery school would use in a year), I guess the residents weren't too impressed either. Still, at least her poo would look more appealing 6 hours down the line and would probably have more colour than the food served at lunch.
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