This one old man at work really cracked me up. He was in his 90s, a WWII vet, former
B17 Bomber instructor, and incredibly disoriented after his surgery. He needed a "sitter" (someone who stays in the room with him 24-7 to prevent him from pulling out his IV, catheter, etc.) so I got to spend a lot of time with him the week he was there.
Despite having a sitter, he also needed wrist restraints, because he was so nimble- and good for him considering his age. This was particularly unfortunate, though, because despite how soft our restraints are (padded wrist bands with straps attached to them), it's always still incredibly frustrating to be restrained, and especially so if you're disoriented.
On my first night there, he had no idea where he was. He would just yell "NINE. ONE. ONE." at the top of his lungs and at 5 second intervals. FOR HOURS. Granted, it got confused. Sometimes it would morph into "STAR. NINE. ONE. ONE." And occasionally you could coax him into talking about his life, so long as it wasn't anything recent. Like talking about B17 Bombers. I found if I said B19 Bombers by accident that would provoke conversation in a hurry. I also got him to tell me what year he was born in, and that changed the chant to "NINE. TEEN. ONE. ONE." Occasionally it would be "STAR. SIX. SEVEN." I asked him who he he wanted to call once, and he said he needed medical assistance and they should send an ambulance. I told him he was at a hospital- the same hospital the ambulance would have taken him to. He turned to glare. Silence. Then, "I meant the police. To arrest YOU, ya damn broad. Keepin' me shackled in here. What'd I ever do to YOU??" 911 chant resumes. All night. That was the most conversation I got out of him. He never stopped his chanting for more than 10 minutes. Later I asked who he was trying to call again, simply cuz I was starting to go insane from the chanting, and he responds, "uhh... EVVVERYONE!!!"
On my second night with him he had been on a hunger strike for 3 days. He thought he was in some sort of prison at first while he was really out of it on the meds, and not eating was his only way of 'fighting back.' But he caved my second night. He asked me for a ham and cheese sandwich. So I went and ordered him one from the kitchen 11 floors beneath us. It took forever to come, which is really sad cuz it was just ham and cheese slapped on some bread, y'know? But anyways, when it got there I heated it up for him because he made a huge point of insisting that nothing he ate or drank could be cold OR hot- it had to be "precisely room temperature." Okey dokey. So I brought it to him, he takes a bite, and then spits it out all over himself and says "you damn broad, some wife YOU'LL make, lady! Ya can't even make a decent sandwhich!!" and refuses to eat anymore. I tried switching up the temp, but it was no good. He'd already decided anything I did was worthless, and that set the tone for the that night.
Aside from "my cooking" another thing he was particularly displeased with were the hand restraints, that he referred to as his "shackles." He would oscillate between cursing me for shackling him, and imploring me to release him. At one point, he softly started calling out to me:
"Hey, lady. Laaaady. Lady?"
"Yes, Philip?"
"Why do you have me shackled like this?? I'm willing to cooperate with you"
"Well, your doctor ordered them because he kept pulling out your IV and catheter tubes--"
"But I'm not!! I never did that! I mean I wouldn't. I'm ready to cooperate with you now. Please, lady! Please let me out! Ya gotta help me!"
So I called his nurse and got permission to "unshackle him" temporarily so he wouldn't panic, as long as I stood immediately next to him ready to restrain him again should he go for his tubes.
So I "unshackle him". There's a moment's pause as he confirms his freedom. Then..
"SHACKLE
ME
WILL YA?!?? I'll teach YOU a lesson, Lady!! No one holds ME down!!" As he starts punching me in the side as hard as he could.. hahaha... I won't lie, I actually had bruises on my side from a man in his 90s, but damn was it worth it... it was bizarrely humorous, PLUS he got out all his angst.
I restrained him again.
Philip: Why'd you shackle me again?
Me: Uhh... you were just hitting me, Philip!
Philip: Hahha.. yeah. I showed you.
Me: Yes you did.
After that, we got along famously.
The next night the nurse repositioned him in bed at one point. He'd been insisting that his arm was completely numb and he couldn't feel anything in it-- but then he would complain about how icy her damn hands were. Once she left he started moaning, so I asked him what was wrong. He wouldn't answer. Minutes passed. Still moaning. Still wouldn't identify the source of his discomfort. So I asked him where it hurt again.
Philip: Down there. *nods towards groin*
Me: Is it internal, or how you're sitting?
Philip: HOW I'M SITTING!
Me: Do you want me to--
Philip: NO. No, no.. just move me, lady.
Me: Okay, how do you want me to move you?
Philip: Uhh... push on my feet.
Me: ? Err... okay.
As I push on his feet, he tries to raise his hips and free himself, something which I could have done in an instant, but he clearly was uncomfortable with that, so okay. He is wailing in pain. It's not working. And he starts SCREAMING "AHHH!!! MY TESTICLES!!" He gives me permission to "free" him. I do. Then, as he gasps for air, he goes "You're a damn fine broad. A damn fine broad." Nice.
We often asked people who are confused basic questions, like if they know where they are, geared at determining how alert they are.
Me: Do you know where you are, Philip?
Philip: *states full name of medical facility*
Me: That's right.
Philip: But can YOU tell ME this?? Who FOUNDED this hospital? Everyone knows what it's called, but not ONE of you people can tell me who founded it!!
Me: 'Fraid I don't know either.
Philip: *shaking his head in disapproval* No respect...
The next night he's out of restraints and eating when I come in.
Me: Hey, look at you!! You look like you're doing much better!
Philip: *smiling broadly* Yup! They took off my shackles!! (lowering his voice, in confidence) I'm earnin' my keep now!
Labels: Conversations, Hospital, work
