I did it! I’ve been “promoted”! I’m calling it that, but there’s no increase in pay, only an increase in clearance. I think the stories I’ve recently been telling about caring for my ill grandmother helped me get this additional duty.
Starting next week, I’ll be part of the residential room rotation. There are six women who eat all their meals in their rooms. Ms. Bali took me around to each of their rooms today, and I met three of them. The other three, including Claire, weren’t in their rooms. Before we went from room to room, I was shown how to review the ICP on each patient. That’s their “Individualized Care Plan”. I hadn’t been able to access more than the generic information before, but now I have a code where I can see specifics. Most ICPs include food allergies, likes, and dislikes.
Claire’s Food ICP was very specific, with certain rules spelled out:
Ms. Nichols will have three meals delivered each day. Upon delivery, attendants will assess Ms. Nichols’ ability to eat unassisted. If she engages, leave food and return to remove tray in thirty minutes. If she doesn’t engage, direct her to her table and explain your actions as you assist in feeding her.
Talking is recommended by Ms. Nichols’ doctors; however, Mrs. Vandersol will not allow any conversation regarding Ms. Nichols’ previous life. Under no circumstance can the name Anthony/Tony Rawlings be mentioned. IF Ms. Nichols brings up this name, staff is to change the subject immediately and notify a supervisor.
Failure to adhere to the set rules will result in immediate dismissal.
I was surprised to see her room. Unlike the other rooms we visited, Claire’s looked generic and sterile. The colors were all pale. She didn’t have any pictures or personal items, other than her clothes and hygiene items. Even the bedspread and window treatments were neutral; there were no bold colors. Since Ms. Bali was with me, I couldn’t look around too much, but I mentioned the starkness in passing.
“Is this patient new?” Meredith knew the answer; nonetheless, she was fishing.
“No, this is Ms. Nichols, the patient you read about with the specific rules regarding discussion. She’s been here for over two years.”
“Her room isn’t as personalized as the other ones we’ve been in.”
Ms. Bali dismissed Meredith’s observation. “That’s none of our concern. It’s Mrs. Vandersol’s doing, and I do believe it goes along with the conversation rules.”
I wanted to ask more, but was afraid I’d raise suspicion. As we walked toward the kitchen, Claire passed us with a tall, pretty blonde woman. She looked our direction momentarily, but didn’t seem to recognize me. I don’t know if that’s good or bad, but I guess in a way it’s good. I’ve been concerned that she’d react as she did in the cafeteria the first time we saw one another. If she did that again when I entered her room, I surely wouldn’t be able to continue doing it.
After they passed, Ms. Bali whispered, “That was Ms. Nichols with Dr. Brown. It’s sad, you’ll see when you start visiting her, but she’s lost all sense of reality. You may have read the book about her, but she’s had a pretty rough life for someone so young. I keep hoping that one day she’ll snap out of it.”
Meredith paused for a moment before asking, “Is that possible? Can people really snap out of it?”
“I’ve been here for over twenty years, so I’ve seen a few cases; however, we shouldn’t keep our hopes up. Cases like that are extremely rare...”
I’m going to do some research and see if I can find out how you can facilitate that “snapping”. Oh, I told her I hadn’t read the book, but I’d look it up. Then she told me not to, that she probably shouldn’t have told me, and it would probably bias my opinion.
She has no idea how biased I already am!