Jamie Penn – Author & Writer

I was now officially a Care Officer and I was so proud of myself.

On Day 1 I was met by my new line manager and a set of ring binders. He told me to find a comfortable chair and start reading them. I remember asking whether he meant all four of them and he had said yes. He told me to find him once I had read all of them and he left me. I looked on the side of the binders and it said Volume 1-4 of the Policies and Procedures. Surely he should have given me these a bedtime. After a couple of hours I went to find him. When he saw me, he said that I was about to tell him that I had read all of them, then I was lying. I had said that I felt a bit guilty just sat  on my arse reading for what would turn out to be all day. He said that if I didn’t read them all then how would I know when I was doing something wrong or not, and how would know I know whether someone else was either. I now to this day keep myself updated on the policies and procedures. I had forgotten my lunch and I asked the staff if I could ask the chef to make me something. Their reaction was one of aghast that I had even had the gall to contemplate such a thing. I was told that in no certain terms, that my head would be bitten off if I asked.

Never to be one to listen to shit stirring, I put my white coat and hair net on and went to see the chef. I introduced myself to the male chef and asked whether he would have time to make me a sandwich for lunch as I had left mine at home. “Yeah no problem. What would you like in it?” was the response I received.

At lunch time I peered my head into the kitchen and told him that I was now on my break, he told me that he would bring it into the staff room for me in a minute. As I sat there and he opened the door with a sandwich, the look on the other staff members faces was unforgettable. One of them asked why he had made me a sandwich but not for them. His reply was “He fucking asked nicely” and returned to he kitchen. I always had a good relationship with that chef when lots of others did not.

On day 2 I was given a Care Plan to rewrite. I loved doing this side of the job but how did I know how best to care for this person if I had never met them. He showed me how to collect the information and develop it. After I had done the file, he showed introduced me to a few people that I would be shadowing in the next couple of weeks.

Day 3 consisted of actually working with a staff member looking after the new residents I would be caring for. I was partnered up with a lady who put me through my paces. She really did work me hard but I kept up with her every step of the way. On my break I met my line manager and he asked me how it was going. I told him about the lady I was shadowing. He told me that he had chose her on purpose because she always moans about the rest of the staff not doing anything and she always did everything. He told me that I had three things going against me.

1. I was a man

2. I was young

3. I was a Care Officer who was a young man.

Day 4 – 10 consisted of me shadowing C.P.N’s, Social Workers, Physiotherapists and Occupational Therapists. I remember going out with the Social Worker for three days. On the first day we spent nearly all day in a Hull Police Station with a man who had been walking the streets naked claiming to be the next son of God and he had Jesus’ mobile number.

Day 5 was spent visiting dementia clinics, assessing people for what care input that they need. At this point, I really wanted to be a Social Worker. However, on day three we visited three families were the parents had been found abusing their children. The amount of restraint I had to show and watching the Social Worker pretend that none of the words that the parents were saying bothered him was harder than anything that I had ever had to do. It was twenty fours later than when I had decided I wanted to be a Social Worker when I realised that I didn’t.

All of the shadowing was to show me what other professionals in my line of work do and to appreciate them & their jobs more. It worked and it was the best induction to a job that I have ever had.

After the induction I was out on my own in this new home. The building was still foreign to me, as was most of the staff and residents. However, I knew how to care for people so that’s was what I would go out and do.

My first proper shift, I found myself on duty with four other staff members, one of whom I had worked with at my previous job. He had left a year before me to go into child care but the manager who he ended up working for, abused her staff and the whole team had been moved instead of her. He is to be known as Mitch.

Anyway, he was a friendly face to see and he welcomed me like a brother he hadn’t seen for a while. Whilst I was in the toilet getting changed he came in and gave me some advice about the staff there. He told me to play them at their own game and make sure that I care for just as many, if not more residents than they do. He told me to stay away from the laundry, even if the women moan about men never going in it. He told me to keep my head down and never EVER fire any bullets for anyone else. He told me that the main reason the staff had team building was down to half a dozen staff giving the rest of them rumours to gossip about and when the manager tried to investigate the rumours, the staff wouldn’t tell them who they had heard it from as it would implicate them in listening to gossip.

My god, I don’t think that I actually understand that last sentence either but it’s the best I can do. Things get complicated when you work with groups of women.

Anyway, back to my first shift. I was given my ‘card’ (a list of residents and jobs that I was responsible for that shift) and was partnered up with the same woman I had when I shadowed. She shall be called Mrs Perfect. That shift I made sure that I not only cared for everyone on my card but most of the people on her card too.

Mitch had told me that Mrs Perfect usually goes in the staff room ten minutes before the end of her shift and tells the next shift how whoever she has worked with has been lazy in front of that person. This day and every day that I worked with her, she never did (or at least not to my face).

I was still not allowed to administer medication and I attended the training the following week. It was a revelation, Medication is so interesting and now I was able to perform all of aspects of the job that I wanted to do.

Please subscribe to my blog so you can be notified when Part 8 has been released.
A comment, sharing it on Facebook, RTing it on Twitter and +1ing it on Google + would be fantastic too. Failing that, just email someone my website.

Thanks again for reading, Jamie

So I was being appeased by being given some Care Officer jobs to do. The more I was doing them, the more I wanted to actually have the title as one. I was only 22 and I was constantly being told that I was far too young to be a Care Officer by the management team, apart from one of them. One of them was another male who had become a Senior Care Officer at the age of 23 & he was evidence that it could be done. I had been told that he was the only person ever to get 100% at interview. There was no doubt that he was so intelligent and I was in awe of him too, although I knew deep down that his future would not lie in this profession. He was a very political person and his skills were far better in that capacity. Anyway, he helped me quite a lot with my mind set at work and we soon became friends.   By this time there had been quite a turnover of staff. The older staff were leaving and staff from other parts of the council were joining our team. This would be the first of many ‘restructures’ that I would experience. The new staff injected some new ideas into our work philosophy and new vigour into the workforce. However, it also introduced to a new manager, one totally unlike the previous regime.

Now I used to (well I still do) make myself look silly in front of residents to inject some humour into what can sometimes be a very long day. I used to wear a flowery frilly apron at meal times as the residents would laugh and make fun of me. They had forgotten that I had only just worn it for the previous meal and I used to get the same insults. It made them laugh and that was the whole purpose of it. This is were the new manager comes into it. One day I could not find my apron and I was told that the manager had thrown it away. I went to her office and confronted her about it. I was told that humour was not suitable in this job so she had torn it up and thrown it away. I told her that she was wrong and instead, I would tell them jokes & do slapstick. She warned me not to otherwise I would get a warning. I told her to show me the policy were it stated that I could not have fun with the residents. I would not be laughing at them, but them laughing at me. I told her to do it now as she would not stop me, left her office and told jokes at lunchtime. (This would the beginning of my rebellious streak when I didn’t think something was right).

About a week later I was on shift and the area manager asked to speak to me. She asked me what I thought it was about so I told her that I loved to make the residents laugh. She did not know what I was talking about, so I had to explain the whole thing to her. She was of course on my side and she said that she would speak to the manager about this. She told me that she had come to see me about a Care Officer job at another establishment that she was also area manager for. She told me that this would be the ideal opportunity to grow in my career as there she didn’t think that there would be another Care Officer job at the home I was at in the near future. She gave the phone number of the home and told me to seriously consider it.

I spoke to lots of people about it. My family told me to go for it, my line manager told me to go for it, most of my colleagues told me to go for it but my closest friends told me that it was obvious that the manager had spoken to the area manager about me and wanted me out. They also told me that this other home had just been through a team building programme as the whole staff group did not get on together. I had some serious thinking to do and not much time to do it in. My Dad always told me that before I had an interview for a job, I should ring them and go to have a look around as it A/ It shows that you are actually interested; and B/ It gives you chance to judge the atmosphere and a look at the residents if they are cared well for.

I rang beforehand and visited the home at 10am the following morning. As I walked around, I asked lots of questions (can’t remember any of them) and generally looked like I was confident that I would get the job. Inside however, I was shivering like a shaved cat walking precariously on a frozen lake. I was out of my comfort zone and when I left, my mind was telling me just to wait until a Care Officer job came up at my current home. The staff who were on duty welcomed me and seemed friendly enough, but I had met enough two faced people in this profession already to just judge a book by its cover.

I returned to work that afternoon to find out that one of the Care Officers was retiring and that they were replacing her with a Care Officer who works in the community, no interview just switching across. The was the final straw for me, I decided that I had nothing to lose and plenty to gain, so I decided that I wanted to leave. For the next few shifts before my interview I acted as a Care Officer (apart from the medication) just to get myself in the correct mind frame.

I have an actor inside of me willing to be released (not a professional one, mpre of an am dram one) and I find that going to an interview already role playing that you are in that position helps immensely. If you come across as someone in that role, you will appear more confident than you are crapping yourself. This is how I walked into the room for my interview.

There were three people sat in front of a chair that I was to sit in, two women and one man. The manager told me that this was a temporary position as the current staff member was on long term sick, I had not been told this beforehand. They each asked five questions, (the most questions I have been asked in an interview) and they were very patient. I walked out of the room and gave a huge sigh of relief. I honestly did not know if I had done enough to pass or not. I got home and told my wife that I would be lucky to get it. I was at work again in the afternoon and I as soon as I got there, I was met by my two best friends (one of whom was the new bus driver for the day centre and the female staff member who I am still in contact with) who immediately asked me how I did and the questions that they had asked me. I told them that I did not know and I had thought of loads more answers after I had left. I went on to work with my friend in the shift.

At 5.30pm my manager told me that I had a phone call. I always worry when I get a call at work and fear that it may be bad news about my family. It was the manager of the other home offering me the job, without hesitation I said yes and I left managers discussing when I could leave. I told my friend and she was over the moon for me, so was I but I would miss her and my bus driver mate so much as I had become so close with them both.

During the next two weeks it was hinted at me having a leaving do but then people thought that I would be returning; with it being a temporary job, so we didn’t bother. I now wished that we had as I never returned. My last shift had set itself up nicely, as it was with the best people who enjoyed working with. I had annual leave booked for a week and then I would be starting my new job.

I said my goodbyes to the residents, even though I knew that all but one of them would not remember me the next day. It was hard saying goodbye to Sharon as we had bonded with her teaching me sign language and I was still only one of a handful of people who could get her to do anything. I felt so guilty leaving them, but I knew that most of the rest of the staff group looked after them well. At 10pm I said goodbye to my colleagues and my friends, I wish I could have taken them with me. I missed them like my family and still do.

Please subscribe to my blog so you can be notified when Part 7 has been released.
A comment, sharing it on Facebook, RTing it on Twitter and +1ing it on Google + would be fantastic too. Failing that, just email someone my website.

Thanks again for reading, Jamie

I began looking for any Care Officer jobs. Not that I wanted to work elsewhere, but I wanted the interview experience as to what kind of questions they would be asking me. I went for three or four I think, not all for residential care and I failed miserably in all of them. I guess that I wasn’t ready.

I began looking further afield and found a council home in Cottingham that needed casual workers so I rang them, had an interview and got the job. I began working there as casual as well as working my thirty hours permanent post. I was young then, I could cope with it. I felt that I needed more experience of different ways of working to develop my skills. My time at this place however was very limited and that was due to a Senior who I can only remember as being an arsehole. This is my memories of my time at the home in Cottingham.

I never did any shadowing shifts as they knew that I already worked for a council run home in Hull. I enjoyed working there, the residents needs were different, the staff were just as nice as my other job and they money was the same. The difference was that it seemed a lot more laid back than my other place. I worked quite a few shifts until I was asked if I would like to work a few night shifts.

Now you can or cannot believe what I am about to type, its up to you, but I swear that all of this happened.

The night shift consisted of two care workers and a sleep in Senior (who I was told that we must ONLY wake up in an emergency) in a building looking after forty residents. Yes their needs weren’t as complex as my other job, but twenty people each still seemed excessive. My first night shift started at 10pm and at 10.53pm (I will always remember the time) Room 7′s buzzer went off, so I answered it. I walked in the room and asked Paul what he would like. I remember and dream about his words to this day.

“Can you tell that man to get out of my room?” he asked.

“Which man Paul?” I replied.

“That one there” and he pointed to the corner of the room near his sink.

As my head turned towards the corner I could already sense that there was someone there. To my horror I caught glimpse of a man stood in front of the sink wearing all black. I turned back to look at Paul and then back into the corner of the room. The man had gone.

“Thank you” Paul said and he laid back down in his bed.

I practically ran out of his bedroom and searched for the other care worker I was working with. Now don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t my first experience with the unexplained but it still freaked me out. When I found the other worker and explained what I saw, this was her reply.

“Oh was it room 7? Yeah stuff is always seen in Paul’s room as well as….” I didn’t want to know what other rooms so I interrupted her sentence.

“Did no-one on days tell you?” she asked. They of course had not. Nothing else unexplained happened that shift but I did not sleep when I got home and I was knackered.

The next night shift I worked there was clear but my third stopped me working nights there an anywhere else for nearly six years.

There was a resident called Eileen and she would never sleep in her bedroom, she always slept in the lounge at night. When I had previously asked why the staff told me that they did not know. When I asked on this shift, I was told it was because people go in her room and keep her awake. Anyway, I asked her if she would like a cup of tea. She said that she would and I had better make the man one too. When I asked which man,she pointed to another chair in the lounge. I turned my head towards the chair and no-one was sat there.

“There’s no-one there” I said.

“There is and if you don’t make one, he will become very angry” Eileen replied.

“Look there is no-one there so I am not making one Eileen” I snapped (slightly worried and tired)

“He isn’t happy and he is walking to now, he is going to hit you” she told me. “He is walking up to you now, he is close. And he has hit you.

I felt nothing to my relief so I told Eileen that. “He still wants one though” she said “and he wants it on that table next to the chair” she informed me. I looked at the table and the chair that she referred to and I swear on my and everyone’s life who is reading this, the cushion on the chair dipped as if someone had just sat on it. This time I was calm but still left the room and made two cups of tea. When I returned to the lounge Eileen told me that I was too late and he had left.

The next today I rang the Senior and told them the days that I was available but that I wouldn’t be doing nights anymore. He told me that he had heard what had happened and gave me three weeks worth of shifts on my days off. I was gonna be loaded at the end of the next month. Two days later I tore my achilles tendon.

I rang him back to inform him as soon as I could and all I received was abuse. These were his exact words.
“Well that’s just fucking marvellous isn’t it? Don’t fucking bother ringing us when you are healed cos you can never fucking come back here.” And the phone was slammed down on me. I rang back to speak to the manager and she agreed but in a nicer way with the Senior. This was the only time I had ever cancelled any shifts with them so it pissed me off big time.

Oh by the way, a domestic at the home in Cottingham turned out to be the sister of the high heeled smoker. Thankfully she liked her as much as everyone else. DAMN, I knew I would end up mentioning her again. Can you tell that she had a major impact on me?

The manager from my permanent post was the complete opposite. She asked me if she could help me in any way and whether I could go in and do some paperwork instead so it cut down my sick hours. So after a couple of weeks I went in and helped out doing that. This time helped me out big time in me wanting to become a Care Officer as the paperwork I was doing was stuff the Care Officers usually did. I also helped out writing the day care plans to help the staff out too. I had not realised how much preparation had to go into day care until I did that paperwork.

After I was healed, or at least had some physio, I returned to normal duties. Now that I had a taste of Care Officer duties, I wanted it more than ever.  I went to see the manager and asked her if I could do some Care Officer duties in my role as a Care Worker too. She agreed and told me to go away and draw up a new rota pattern as the one we had at the moment wasn’t working. At the time I thought that was just appeasing me, but I now see why she did it. She was appeasing me.

I did indeed go away and twelve weeks later we were using my new rota with the manager taking the credit for it. She said that the staff would not accept it if they knew that a care worker had done it. Hmmmmmm, however I was still young and fairly naive. My relationships with some of the staff was growing stronger by each shift and I really loved going to work there. Loving the job and being friends not just colleagues was an absolute joyous environment to work in. Don’t get me wrong, there were still a couple of people who were lazy or didn’t seem as caring as the rest of us, but you get those everywhere. I was having such a good laugh  every shift and thoroughly enjoying myself. I won’t go into details but I remember one shift having a talcum powder fight at the end of the corridor only to be told that CSCI (now CQC) had just walked into the building for an inspection. I have never to this day seen walls and floors get cleaned as quick as they did that day.

Another day the chef was going to throw fresh cream buns away as the residents had not eaten them. So you guessed it, a cream bun fight ensued. I got a few people but it ended with me getting into the lift backwards, closing the doors only to find that the light was turned off and then ambushed by two carers and four cream buns all over me. I remember carrying a staff member on my shoulders for ages until we were found out and told off and also scaring ‘Cuddles’ by another staff member wearing a wig sitting in a chair facing away from the door and sending her into an empty room with my friend sat in the chair. Apart from nearly giving ‘Cuddles’ a heart attack she did eventually see the funny side after she had giving two very good dead arms to us both.

There are plenty of more experiences I had that lightened the mood of what can be, let’s face it, quite a mentally strenuous job. I may either tell more as we go along or leave them until I release these blogs as a book.

Two months after my recovery I received a phone call at home. On the other end of the phone was the Senior from the home in Cottingham.

“Hi Jamie are you okay now?” he asked.

“Yes?” I asked quizzically.

“I was wondering if you wanted any shifts” he continued.

“You can fuck off and shove your job up your stinking arse” I replied and slammed the phone down.

I then got told off by my Mum who was stood right next to me until she found out who had been on the other end of the phone.

Please subscribe to my blog so you can be notified when Part 6 has been released.
A comment, sharing it on Facebook, RTing it on Twitter and +1ing it on Google + would be fantastic too. Failing that, just email someone my website.

Thanks again for reading, Jamie

So now I had a thirty hour permanent post. This meant that I was finally going to be key worker for at least one of the residents. Being key worker means that you are responsible for making sure the care plan is up to date, liaising with the family and buying the resident any clothes and toiletries that they need. It also meant that I would get the opportunity to care for them every shift. WRONG.

Some shifts I did not even see the two people I was key worker too (I was given two at first). I thought this as very odd as how were we supposed to ensure that they were receiving the correct care? I was told that every staff member should have read each of the residents files, so they would know the correct way to care for them. I didn’t question it at the time but would do in the future. When did every staff member have the time to read every resident’s file and keep themselves constantly updated of the changes in them? The answer is never. Thankfully, most of the staff would let every one else know on shift with them when there had been changes or the Senior would tell us in the handover. The only problem with that is that we were being told of changes to care that we hadn’t read in the first place, not all of the files anyway.

However, working with other staff, this did not seem to matter as they were some of the most caring, understanding people I have ever worked with. Completely meeting the needs of each resident no matter what. It didn’t matter what the staff members were like to each other sometimes, ALL of those residents were cared for to the best of their abilities.

I had been there about six months when I finally gave up listening to everyone else about how to do the laundry. I kid you not when I say that every female member of staff showed me a completely different way on how to do the laundry. I thought ‘f@*k this, I am doing it the way my Mum showed me at home’ & so I did. At least I went in the laundry, a lot of the other males carers either dare not or obviously thought it was a woman’s job.

The laundry is another part of the job that keeps staff away from the residents, it would have been a lot more helpful to employ a laundry assistant so the staff could do what they do best and care for people. This was also at the time of care plans becoming so ridiculously thick and staff having to complete over twenty sheets per resident in the file, that the file work was also taking them away from the residents. The solution, write in the files in the lounge with the residents. *face palm*

I made a lot of ‘friends’ there, not just work colleagues but after about a year I wanted to move up higher to the role of a Care Officer. I was told that I should walk before I could run but I knew deep down that I could do the job just as well as some of the other Care Officers. Taking nothing away from them, some of them were fantastic but some of them were placed in that role when the council; in its wisdom made everybody Care Officers, realised their mistake and then wanted people to take a pay cut and move back down the Care Workers. Some did but some remained as Care Officers and didn’t belong in that role in my honest opinion.

I bided my time, waiting for a Care Officer job to come up but every time someone left, another staff member from another home or someone from the Community staff team walked straight into that post. I was becoming dejected quick but thought that I would just do my job as a Care Worker as best as I could and look after these fantastic people.

I ended up becoming attached to many of the residents (one of whom I have mentioned in a previous post on my experiences in caring for people with a stroke) and one with a female resident who I shall call Anna. Anna was a high spirited lovely lady whose dementia had made her forget how to communicate and her mobility was very poor. I took pride in the fact that I alone to help her when it often took others to have assistance from another staff member to help her as she would usually spit at them, hit them or worse. I don’t know why I never got spat at or hit but she kindly chose not to. The reason that I am telling you about Anna is because I became too attached to her. She had a daughter who used to visit her every Sunday and every Thursday without fail. However, whenever she visited Anna all she would do is berate her, telling Anna to sit down whenever Anna walked away from her as she had come especially to see her. She also used to tell Anna to sit down in case she fell. All I ever saw the daughter do was tell Anna off for something or other. Even the time when Anna and Mrs X (from my first day) where sat in the entrance talking to each other in language incomprehensible; but both enjoying what the other was saying. Anna’s daughter walked in, sat down next to her and told her off for not talking to her and talking rubbish to Mrs X instead. I did not like her one bit.

Anyway, Anna became very ill and had to go to the hospital to be cared for. After a couple of days at work, a Senior (I can’t remember which one) told me that Anna was not well and she had been refusing to eat at the hospital. I asked if I could visit Anna after my shift, the Senior agreed that it was a good idea for someone to go and see her. I visited Anna at tea time on the ward, they only let me in because I was a carer. I saw Anna and my heart sank, she looked so poorly. She had her tea in front of her, just sat there with the tiniest amount of steam still leaving the meal. I sat down next to Anna, held her hand and told her that it was tea time. I stayed there for the next thirty minutes feeding her tea to her.

I visited Anna at every mealtime when I was not at on shift until she returned to the home. She ate and drank everything that I gave her at each mealtime in hospital.

Not long after returning home Anna passed away from pneumonia. I was absolutely devastated and it affected me in quite a bad way. I had become too attached & although every resident I cared for after Anna, I treat like they were family (after all I see them more than family), I never allowed myself to become as attached as I had with Anna.

At Anna’s funeral there was only me and a couple of others from work as well as her family.  At the end of the funeral when the family line up for you to talk, I really didn’t want to talk to her daughter. However I found myself walking down the line and finally reaching her, I was the last to leave the service. Her daughter pulled me to a side and spoke to me privately. “I know that you don’t like me Jamie” she began “but the only way I could handle seeing my Mother in that state was to frequently visit her and try to get some level of control of the dementia. I know that it did not work but I felt that it was all I could do for her. I know that you really liked Mum and you cared for her, and for that I would like to say thank you.” She grabbed me and gave me a great big hug. This was the day that I never moaned about family members attitudes towards their loved one or their lack of visiting them.

No-one really knows how they will react when someone close to them gets dementia and everyone will handle it differently.

Another resident I became close to was a deaf lady who I shall call Sharon. Sharon didn’t have dementia, she was just old and deaf but had found herself in a care home when she had no-one else to care for her. This lady had been at the home since I had been there but I had very little to do with her as she preferred a female staff member to assist her with all of her needs. Sharon could read lips very well and this is how she communicated with the staff. In my supervision I suggested that a few staff should be sent on a sign language course (as Sharon could sign too) as she had a visitor who came every week from a deaf society to see Sharon & she appeared to get so much out of it that if more of us knew it, it would undoubtedly be more beneficial for her. However when my suggestion went as far as the manager, she said that we didn’t have enough deaf people to warrant one person going on the training, never mind a few of us. Not wanting to be beaten, I did the next best thing, I asked Sharon to teach me.

When I explained to Sharon that I wanted her to teach me, she smiled. It was lunch time and I was about to help her to stand with the use of her zimmer frame. She would always make it hard for the staff as she really didn’t want to move anywhere but she needed to keep her mobility otherwise she would end up losing it and eventually end up having to be hoisted, which she really didn’t want. I was trying to encourage her to stand (she usually would for me) and I could tell that she was beginning to be playful with it. I must have started to get a bit fed up of it cos she spoke to me. She said “You think I am lazy?” and I nodded and said “Sometimes yes”. She then tapped her left elbow with two fingers and said lazy. “Does this (trying the action myself) mean lazy?” I asked. Sharon nodded and then smiled. She said that sometimes she could be a lazy bastard and showed me the sign for bastard too. I smiled, she stood up and I said that she wasn’t a (signed) lazy bastard. She then returned the smile and walked to the dining room.

Sharon went on to teach me almost every swear word, all the letters of the alphabet and quite a few phrases; including sorry, please, thank you among many others. We used this bond to talk to each other how ever we wanted and no-one else knew what we were saying.  When she wouldn’t stand once, I signed ‘lazy bastard’ to her. Sharon’s mouth dropped and said “Awww swearing” to me. I then signed ‘but no-one else knows what I am saying’, she winked at me, smiled and stood up. This became a regular thing between us, whenever I would sit down in the lounge she would lean forward and sign something like ‘lazy bastard’ or ‘lazy bugger’ to me.

I was building some great relationships with the residents and was becoming close to some of the staff too, we were becoming friends instead of colleagues. I had been the youngest there for almost a year when all of a sudden some younger people started working there. In one way it was good to have some people nearer my age to work with but in another way, a few of them didn’t have a bloody clue how to care for people. One did & I remain in contact with her to this day.

I really enjoyed my job but the thirst for more was hammering around in my head. I wanted to progress in my career and become a Care Officer. I wanted more responsibility and I wanted it soon.

Please subscribe to my blog so you can be notified when Part 5 has been released. A comment, sharing it on Facebook, RTing it on Twitter and +1ing it on Google + would be fantastic too. Failing that, just email someone my website.

Thanks again for reading, Jamie

I had done my best in the nearly nine weeks of working in the residential part of the building, not to have worked again with the high heeled smoker. That was until I turned up for a late shift (2-10) only to find out that she had swapped a shift. The look on my face must have been a picture as I walked into the staff room to see her making herself a cup of tea. There was another staff member sat in there too, it was the other casual who had been on shift with me before with the high heeled smoker and who had worked with her that day (she will now be referred to as ‘cuddles’).

So there was the high heeled smoker, cuddles and me in the staff room waiting for the fourth staff member to turn up in complete silence. After a few minutes Cuddles turned to me and asked me how I was and we started up a conversation. The high heeled smoker did not like this as we kept hearing sighs blasting out of her mouth like a geyser. Cuddles rolled her eyes at me, showing that she knew we were trying to be stopped from talking. This made us talk all of the more.

At a minute to two o’clock the staff room door opened and in walked another male member of staff I shall call Jack. He welcomed us all in a very cheery way and then told the high heeled smoker to get out of the way so he could make himself a drink. You could tell instantly that she did not like him cos he obvious wasn’t afraid of how he spoke to her. I knew straight away that this was going to be an entertaining shift. Jack began to make himself a drink, then turned around and asked cuddles and I whether we would like another one, totally blanking the high heeled smoker. We both declined but thanked him for offering. The Senior (an elderly lady who I still have enormous respect for) who shall be known as Jacqui came up to the staff room and asked us to go for handover.

Two hours into the shift and just before tea time, Jack got sent home from work. I still to this day do not know why, although ‘on the grapevine’ I heard that the high heeled smoker accidentally knocked the bar of the hoist (which assists staff move immobile people from chair to chair/ chair to bed etc.) on his head which made him go dizzy.

Personally I thought at the time that she had either done it on purpose or she had threatened to tell the Senior that she could tell he had been drinking before work, as I had too smelt it on him as he walked past me in the staff room before he made himself a black coffee.

So this left the high heeled smoker, cuddles and myself on shift with Jacqui in charge. To be fair to the high heeled smoker, she cracked on and between the four of us we successfully managed tea time and the short time afterwards with no short falls. After tea Jacqui told all three of us to go for our break but to take it in the dining room so we were still on the floor if anything were to happen.

The three of us sat in the dining room around a table tucking into the leftovers from the residents tea when it happened. The high heeled smoker looked straight at Cuddles and unleashed. “Well I don’t know what we are going to do after tea as I am not working with you because you haven’t even had your induction yet have you?” and before Cuddles could answer she began another sentence “I mean you haven’t done your moving and handling, your infection control or anything have you?” she continued.

“I am going on a weeks worth of training next week” Cuddles replied and the high heeled woman sighed a huge sigh that she probably blew some child’s birthday candles out somewhere on the estate.

“And you” she exclaimed, looking at me “I aren’t working with you either because you haven’t done anything either have you?” and again before I could reply she began again “So you two will have to put everyone to bed whilst I stay in the lounge and make sure the laundry is okay. Understood?” I could feel my blood boiling and I turned to look at Cuddles who was obviously very upset and I could tell that she was holding the tears back.

That was the last straw for me, I could not keep my mouth shut any longer. For nearly nine weeks I had put up with this witch thinking she could do or say whatever she liked. Even when I hadn’t worked with her you could tell that she had been on before you as the residents were always more sullen or more agitated.

I slammed more cutlery down onto the dining room table, walked over to the dining room doors, shut them and returned to the table. My every move had been observed closely by her and Cuddles so I had her complete attention. I opened my mouth and it all came out. I cannot actually remember taking a breath in what I said.

“For a start off X, how do you know what training I have done and haven’t done cos if you have been looking in my file I will have you suspended right now, I don’t care if you have to go home..”

“No I haven…” was all I allowed her to say.

I continued “I have done my Moving and Handling, infection control, basic food hygiene, First Aid at work and dementia awarenesss training before I even started working here. So before you start ranting on about people you know fuck all about, think first and keep your trap shut.”

“That’s okay then” she replied ” I can work with you then” in a totally different tone.

I looked straight into her eyes and said “You can fuck off. I would rather work with her (Cuddles) any day of the week than rather have to even be on the same shift with you. You are an evil witch who never has anything good to say about anyone else. I wouldn’t mind if you were the perfect carer but you aren’t. You abuse the residents, the abuse the staff and the Seniors daren’t say anything to you, well I have had enough.” Cuddles looked at me, started crying and left the room.

That left me and the high heeled smoker in the dining room alone. I continued “How the hell can you do a decent grafting job working in high heeled shoes anyway? That says to me like you are determined to do fuck all as soon as you walk through the door. I would prefer it if you only spoke to me if you have to from now on ‘X’ and I never want to work with you again, OKAY?” The high heeled woman stood up and I saw her mouth gaping open, sucking all of the air in the room into her lungs to reply to my tirade. She must have thought ‘How dare this 17 year old boy talk to me in this way?’ She was just about to unload, I could see her pointing finger coming down with ferocity, when Jacqui walked through the door with Cuddles.

“X, I’d like to see you in my office now please” Jacqui said and the high heeled smoker followed her. They were gone for over ten minutes, and in that time  me and Cuddles had began cracking on with the shift. After all, there were still people who needed looking after. When the high heeled smoker came back, she totally blanked me (which is what I had requested I suppose) and then Jacqui called me in to her office too. Now this was done as supervision so I cannot break any confidentiality issues, all I will say is that I was admonished for doing what I did in the dining room when it should have been addressed in a more professional manner. Another lesson that I learnt from and continue to address things in this way now.

Now I don’t want you to think that the whole staff group were like this one person. Of course there were a few bad apples, but mostly the people who worked there actually wanted to make a difference and a lot of them did so in a positive way.

In the few weeks that proceeded that shift, the high heeled smoker was nowhere to be seen and I had to give a written statement to the managers (there were two of them) and also talk through it with them. After the fourth week the high heeled smoker returned. From the day she returned until the day she retired, the only words spoken between the two of us were either asking of us asking for assistance or me telling her to stop talking to the residents or staff in a derogatory way. I found only having to tell her once per outburst and then she was fine (or what I saw of her) for the rest of the shift. Just so we have closure on this woman and I shall not mention her again after this, I shall tell you about the day she retired.

I sat in the office waiting for handover when the Senior walked in through the door and said that the high heeled smoker would not be working her last shift as she was having to  send her home instead as she was so upset. One of the care officers (I was a Care Worker) started sniggering, so I asked her what had happened. Instead of telling me, she grabbed hold of my hand and led me to the laundry. When I opened the door I was both amazed, shocked and in awe of genius. The night staff had stuck a wooden spoon into some faeces with a piece of paper acting like a flag stuck to the top of the spoon. On the paper flag the following words had been written “Happy retirement X, this is for all of the shit you put us through over the years.” I couldn’t contain my laughter, and those that know me know that my belly laugh is ever so dirty and loud. Not only was this totally true but the way it had been done, I thought at the time, was genius.

The Senior walked into the laundry, admonished the Care Officer for showing me and then admonished me for laughing so heartily. I realise now in hindsight that it was such an unprofessional thing to do and I should not have encouraged it, but at the time I was still only eighteen and it was one of the funniest and karma inducing things I had ever seen. Plus, it couldn’t have been done to a more deserving person. The night staff, I heard, were given a written warning in their file and had to apologise to the high heeled smoker but they told me some time afterwards that it was worth it as she was such “an evil, non caring bitch”.

The weeks and months that proceeded the high heeled smoker leaving, about three other staff members left or were transferred too who were in her clique. Obviously not having their ring leader took its toll on them. The atmosphere in the building changed and it was again a caring, fun and warming place to work. Every body who I worked with at the time commented at some time or another how much better the place was without her.

RIGHT, I shall not mention her again. I think.

The whole experience of caring for people with dementia not only matured me (okay, apart from laughing at a spoon with a paper flag stuck in some shit) and made me more aware of how dependent some people are for others to take of them when they either have no-one else to, or when it puts that much strain on the families that are, that it begins to start affecting their health too. I found myself watching the people who I worked with with close scrutiny; not to pick them up on their practices, but to use the excellent parts of their work and to never do the bits that I felt didn’t work or help the people who were living there. After five months as being a casual staff member, there came the opportunity to interview for a permanent post. My only experience of interviews was the brief one I had had with the manager to get the casual job, so I expected more of the same. It is a good job that I mentioned it to one of my colleagues, as they told me that the answers would be a lot harder and then they helped me by asking me what felt like fifty questions for the remainder of my shift. I liked this experience, so every shift until my interview I asked the person I was working with to ask me questions or give me scenarios that I might get. Some of them I got horribly wrong, but I learnt from them and it helped me on the day as I ended up getting a thirty hour permanent post as a Care Worker.

Oh by the way. My colleague is called cuddles as we always cuddled each other when seeing each other after that day.

Please subscribe to my blog so you can be notified when Part 4 has been released. A comment, sharing it on Facebook, RTing it on Twitter and +1ing it on Google + would be fantastic too. Failing that, just email someone my website.

Thanks for reading, Jamie

My alarm went off at 5am and I honestly felt that I was dying. I got out of bed trying not to wake anyone up, took my clothes and my deodorant downstairs and turned on the TV. I flicked through Ceefax whilst I got dressed and read the football news as I always did when I woke up and if I were the first one up. I grabbed the packed lunch that my Mum had made me and left the house. The home was literally a five minute walk away from my house. The only time I had been out on the street at this time was when I worked at Netto and we had been going in for an early morning Sunday stock taking.

As I steeped out onto the street I noticed a woman walking about thirty feet in front of me. She turned her head slightly and looked at me. I slowed down, fearing that she may think that I was following her. We both walked up the street and I noticed that she was going to walk over the same foot bridge that I was heading for, so I decided in my head that I would walk across the main road instead so not to freak her out anymore than I may have already. In hindsight this was not the best thing to do because as I reached the other side of the road, she was just coming down the opposite flight of steps at the same time. I looked over at here and I noticed that she was holding her handbag a lot closer to her and she had picked up speed. I decided to slow down again.

We both reached the pavement on the other side about ten feet apart, I suspect that we were both feeling as uncomfortable as one another so I took another path that would take me past the Primary School I had attended so not to scare her unintentionally anymore.

As I approached the home, now from the opposite direction I would have if I had continued to walk behind her, I noticed the same woman walked towards me again; and as my trajectory took me towards the home so did hers. Why was I so crap at not freaking out people even when I tried not to.

She reached the front door of the home and pressed the door bell to be let in and then quickly closed the door behind her, with me literally ten seconds away from it. As I neared the door I could see her signing in a book. She turned to look at me just as I pressed the door bell myself. As our eyes met we both recognised one another. She was the kind, older lady who had welcomed me in my time at the day centre.

The relief on her face was evident as she let me in the front door. I apologised if I had freaked her out, but the next sentence was that of admonishment as I thought that she shouldn’t have been walking on her own at this time in a morning. She replied with “who is going to attack me? One look at me and I would scare them off”. We both laughed and she walked with me to the staff room. For the next fifteen minutes before the shift I remained in her space, making her a drink and talking to her about what I was about to expect. I was hoping that she was going to be the staff member that I was shadowing, she even mentioned this during hand over. However, the elderly Irish woman who was the Senior on duty had different ideas. She paired me with someone who, when she told them rolled their eyes as if to say ‘Oh no, not me’. In time I would become great ‘friends at work’ with this woman but for the first few months I thought she was a mardy git who didn’t enjoy anything. It turns out, that she is just very shy around new people and did not have the confidence in herself to meet new people or have the skills to initiate small talk.

Handover finished and although I did recognise a few of the residents name that the Irish woman mentioned, most of the names flew through my head like a speck of dust in a wind trap.

The lady informed me that I should go to the laundry and get some gloves (a few hands full) and put them in my pocket so I have them when needed, instead of having to keep coming back to the laundry as we were working upstairs today. I did so and met her at the top of the stairs. She informed me that we were firstly going to go into a bedroom of a couple, Mr & Mrs X. She told me that I was to see to Mr and she would see to Mrs, plus I should not even talk to Mrs as Mr used to be a professional boxer and he was extremely protective of his wife and had been known to hit other men if they even spoke to her, fearing that they take her away from him. I prepared myself to be in for a battle, knocked and then opened the bedroom door. The first thing that hit me was the smell, it was then part of the handover flashed back into my mind. “Mr and Mrs X are both quite poorly and much remain in their bedrooms all day because they both have a chest infection, together with diarrohea and sickness”. That was the smell that greeted me as I opened the door. I sucked in my wimpyness and began to walk into the bedroom. My colleague turned the lights on and I ran out of the room holding my mouth, threw open the staff room door, threw open the toilet door and vomitted into the toilet for what appeared to be a life time.

As my now post heaved body exited the staff room, I noticed my colleague talking to the Senior at the bottom of the stairs. When they saw me, the both stopped talking and the lady walked back up the stairs to me. “Are you okay?” she asked, with a grin on her face. “Yes I’m fine now thanks, sorry about that” I replied to the dismay of the lady and I walked in front of her back to the couple’s bedroom.

When my break time arrived, I sat there with my colleague and another gentleman who were talking amongst themselves and smoking their heads off. Neither engaged me in a conversation but to be honest, all I wanted was to go home and never come back. I wasn’t cut out for this job, clearly. At the end of my shift, I thanked the lady for showing me around, she had to be fair been really helpful showing me the routine that they had, how to do the laundry (even though I had been doing laundry at home for years, helping my Mum as she was working too and no-one else in the house was helping her), introducing me to the residents and the other staff members when we both approached them & just being there to keep pushing me through it when she obviously thought I was flagging. When I look back, she helped me more than she could ever know, even though she was being a mardy bugger at the same time. Talented eh?

I went home to an empty house, laid on my bed and sobbed. I had failed, I was never going to go back to that place. I would keep my job at Kwik Save, chasing after shoplifters and stacking shelves.

I was awoke by the telephone ringing. When I answered it, it was my Nanna, my heart sank. How could I tell her that I had failed and hated it? But I did and it was the best thing I could have done. She not only put my mind into perspective but also encouraged me to go back to next day instead of ringing them up and never going back. So at 5am the next morning, my alarm went off and I went to work again.

I rang the door bell and the lady who I had met in the staff room puffing away when I was volunteering, walked past the door and didn’t let me in. I rang the door bell again to get her attention in case she hadn’t seen me. Instead I heard her shout to someone else to “let the new young un in”. The Irish Senior let me in and reminded me to sign in the fire book as I had forgotten to yesterday, so I did. I walked up to the staff room and was met by the smoking woman in high heels who had walked past me and two other women. I could sense the tension in the air straight away. I sat there silent for ten minutes until the smoking woman in high heels finally broke the silence. She spoke to one if the other staff, a lady with  a large amount of brown curly hair fixed onto the top of her head. “I can’t believe we are stuck with two casuals today” she began, completely acting as if me and the other person weren’t there. “She (she pointed to the lady sat two chairs away from me) has only worked here for two weeks, and he (pointing to me) only started yesterday and he isn’t shadowing anyone today.” The other staff member just shrugged her shoulders and muttered one word “Great”, sarcastically obviously. Me and the other casual sat in silence until the Irish Senior called for us to go into handover.

In the handover I was told that I would be working the the curly haired woman and the other casual would be working with the high heeled smoker. I sighed inwardly as I never wanted to work with that person ever. This shift was much as the same as the day before apart from that I never vomitted and that I was shown a completely different way on how to do the laundry from the lady I shadowed the previous day. I tried to explain how I had been shown how to do it but was just told to do it her way instead. One thing I did noticed, although at the time I didn’t know any better, was the high heeled smoker being horrible to one of the male residents. Talking to him nastily and back answering everything he was trying to shout at her. I already hated this person but daren’t say anything to her, as I had observed that other daren’t either.

For the next two weeks I worked with a variety of different people and soon found out that there were a few cliques within the home. Although I now do not advocate cliques, I am not ashamed to say that I chose one with the few I appeared to get on with best and joined it. I figured that at least as I wasn’t with the high heeled smoker, I would be okay. That was until the shift in my second month.

Please subscribe and come back to my site to read Part 3 of my experiences in Dementia Care.

I would also appreciate your sharing, RTing, +1ing and just telling people about this blog.

Thanks for taking the time to read it, Jamie.

(All names have been altered to protect identities)

Where do I bloody start? Oh yeah, the beginning.

I was at college studying Health and Social Care. We had four work experience placements to find for ourselves. I had already been to Ganton Special School where my brother had attended until he passed away, the other was at the Primary School I attended as a child; Rokeby Park Primary School. I wanted to go to another school as I was intending to become a school teacher but my college tutor told me that I must try something different, so I decided to go to Hull Royal Infirmary. Unfortunately, I was told that I was too young to go onto a hospital ward so would have to rethink my options. I literally had no idea where I was going to go, that was until I went to look after my Grandad whilst my Nanna went out one day. She was telling me about the respite stay my Grandad had been to at Rokeby Resource Centre a couple of weeks previous. She said that it was lovely there and the staff were so good and kind to my Grandad. When I told her about my work experience predicament, she immediately suggested that I chose Rokeby Resource as a choice. I really didn’t fancy looking after old people, I wanted to teach children. However, four weeks after I found myself ringing the doorbell of Rokeby Resource at 9am on a Monday morning. I was going to be working in the Day Centre side of the building as I was too young to work in the residential part of the building.

I was introduced to two of the staff members. One was a lady who looked like one of the people who were attending the day centre and the other who a woman in her 50′s. The first lady sat me down and asked me what I wanted to get out of the work experience, I told her that I thought I was working in the residential side of the building as that is where my Grandad had been for respite. The lady asked me what my Grandad’s name was. When I told her, she said that she was his keyworker as staff work both in the day centre and the residential side. She seemed like a really nice person and she offered me the chance to go on the transport bus to pick the people up from their houses to bring them in. I jumped at the chance and was introduced to the bus driver. My first impression of the bus driver was that he looked like a bit of a prat (how right my first impression was). I traveled with the nice lady and the bus driver to pick up about ten people from their homes, then took them back to the day centre. When we arrived back. I helped some of the people off the bus, into the day centre, out of the coats and into the chairs. When I got back, the lady in her fifties had some a drink and got some snacks ready for the people coming back. I helped give out the drinks and food and we then talked about the news headlines and any issues the people wanted to talk about, we did that until it was time for lunch. I helped serve and give out lunch and then took the empty pots to the kitchen and was introduced to the cooks. After lunch I was shown were the staff room was to have my break.

In there was a another staff member puffing away on a cigarette. I wasn’t to know, but this  person would be the most horrible person that I have ever worked with. She will come up more in Part 2 of my experience.

After my break, I returned to the lounge and found out that we would be playing bingo. Now I have only ever been a fan of Bingo when my Nanna was playing it with me as she always wins stuff. We played that with a cup of tea break in the middle, then returned the people back to their houses. When we returned, the elderly staff member showed me the files and how she filled them in. After that, she told me that there was no need for me to stay and that she would see me the next day.

This was the general state of affairs for my two week stint at the day centre, meeting different staff and people along the way. However it was mainly picking people up, talking to them, feeding them, playing a game or doing craft, taking them home then completing their files. At the end of the work experience, I was asked if I would like to come back. I agreed but still wanted to teach children at the end of my course and then go to University.

I ended up going to the day centre every Thursday and my tutor also allowed me to do my last work experience there too. I went every week until it was close to the end of college course. It was then that the elderly staff member mentioned that she thought that I should go and see one of the managers to ask if I could have an interview for a casual job. She told me that she had already spoken to one of them about it. I could now work in the residential side too as I was old enough, so I plucked up the courage to go and see one of the managers. She sat me down on the other side of her desk and asked me 3 questions.

1. Why did I want to work there?

2. Where would I want to be in 10 years?

3. When could I start?

I told her that I wanted to look after people like my Nanna had told me how well my Grandad had been cared for.

That I would want to be sat where she was, and

as soon as she wanted me to.

The next morning I found myself awake at 5am, getting ready for my first 6-2 shift in the residential side of the building. I was shadowing a member of the other staff.

Come back and read part 2 of my dementia experiences, about my introduction to residential care.