Shut Up Already

So how is someone, knowing that someone has something like PD, going to ask “how in the world” something that person did took so long? All I have to say is are you dense? Do you honestly think that I don’t know that I’m more of a hindrance than a help out there on the floor? Why do you think that I put in a bid on a less physical position? Why do you think that my staying employed depends on this position?




Let me explain the entirety of the situation. One particular resident had to have a shower today. This isn’t so bad, but he took me forty five minutes to shower before I started showing symptoms of PD. Plus, I had to get his weight before showering him. Add in some permanent progression from the cold that turned into severe bronchitis to mild pneumonia, and what you have is a patient who takes extra long being taken care of by someone who is extra slow. I have to be slow. I’ll hit the floor otherwise, and that linoleum is hard. This shower took me an hour and fifteen minutes to accomplish.



To further complicate the matter, I was on the second lunch. The first lunch goes at eleven, the second at eleven-thirty. It is the responsibility of the person on the second lunch to fill the water pitchers with ice. This is usually done while the first lunch is away, but it’s not something set in stone, and I was still showering this resident. I started him at ten-thirty, and finished at quarter to twelve.



This particular coworker feels that this ice passing time is set in stone. She was very upset—not descriptive enough—ready to crucify me that the ice had not yet been passed. The way I see it, I was there till three, and as long as it got done before three, then my job had been done. The encounter went down like this,



Her: You didn’t pass ice?



Me: I just got done showering my guy.



Her: I’m not doing it, it’ll be waiting.



Me: Did I ask you to do it?



Her: No you didn’t ask. How in the world did it take you till quarter to twelve to shower your guy when you started at ten-thirty?



Me: I had a choice to make here. Do I rip her a new asshole? Do I tell her to politely kiss my ass? Do I ask her to take a wild guess as to why it took me so long? What I said was, “ it just did.”



The thing is, I fake being okay when I’m at work. I have to. Who wants to know that the person taking care of them is himself sick? There are very few residents who know or have known that I have PD. It’s only those who I feel that it’ll help to know that I have an idea what they’re feeling, because I often feel the same things. (I will never say, dear reader, that I know what they feel, but only an idea of it.) I’m someone who will listen, and for those few, it helps.



Thing is, I’m tired of faking being okay. I’m not. When I say that my employment depends on this position, I don’t mean that I’d quit because I’m pissed off that I didn’t get the position. I’d have to leave because I’m no good to anyone doing floor work anymore. I’m too damned slow.



To my coworker, who will probably never read this, but that means nothing right now, you need to try something. It’s real easy, I promise. You need to remember that I am not you. I don’t move at your speed. I don’t think like you do. I don’t reason like you do. I don’t run according to your schedule. As long as everything’s done before I leave, I don’t believe it matters when I do it. So the next time you need to open your interminable trap, try thinking first. Chances are, the person you’re talking to is fully aware already of his or her shortcomings. I tell you the truth, I really don’t need reminded.