What happens in Nursing homes, Stays in Nursing Homes!!

I always wanted to be a nurse, I know it is strange, but true. I have a sick obsession with helping people where I sometimes sacrifice my own needs for theirs. It's just something that a part of me needs like a crack head needs crack. (and not the good kind.) I went to CNA school and part of the training required that we did clinical hours at a nursing home. This was my first experience ever setting foot in one of them places. It is such an interesting experience that I highly recommend everyone at least visit once in their life. Well, hell at this rate a majority of us will be living in one when we get to old to take care of ourselves. Not I!!! I refuse to deal with the shit that goes on their. I'd rather take myself out before letting someone else wipe my ass. I have a friend that already told me to to add Xantaz to whatever suicidal drug I chose. They supposedly can't revive you when you mix that to the cocktail. (no don't try this at home).

Well, enough about death. that's a whole other blog. Lets go back to my first day at clinicals in a nursing home in Fayetteville, NC. I won't mention the name because that would be so wrong. I remember being dressed in my scrubs that had to be all white of course so we would look different from the real CNA's. Actually, I think the patients were happier with us because at least we did things by the book. (if you know what I mean.) I was assigned to a sweet little old lady that was in a room by herself. The sign on the door said that she had Parkinson's disease. AT the time I really did not know what the hell that disease was. I immediately thought that it was something like altizmers but a more fancier way to name it. But whatever!!, I was there to do a job, and a job I was going to do! I knocked on the door to let her know I was there.

"Come in" she said in a really shaky tone.

As i entered the room she was already up and about looking through her nightstand for a razor. She was dressed in a sky blue night gown and had huge bifocals on. She looked like the image of what a grandma was always represented in those cute story books I read as a child. I just wanted to give her a huge hug and listen to all her stories, but that would be weird because she wasn't my grandma. She seemed very competent and was pretty active for having altimerzers,I thought to myself. I just couldn't understand why she was shaking so much....

"Hi, I'm Victor and I am going to be your CNA for today." I walked over to her "You need me to help you with anything?"
"I need to shave." she responded. I was so confused at this point. I knew I wasn't allowed to shave her legs or anywhere else because it was just me in the room and they did not let male CNA's do stuff like that.
"Uhm, Did you want me to go get someone to help you with that?" I asked as she walked over to the bathroom.
"No, I need you to shave my face." she said shaking

I felt so damn relieved. I looked at her face immediately and saw that she had these little white or grey hairs growing from her chin and her cheeks. Oh, and she had one of them old lady mustaches that they sometimes get. I looked around the bathroom for some shaving cream.... I guess she was out. I sat her on the toilet and began lathering her face with soap and water.
"So, do you usually shave your face with just soap and water" I asked as I continued to try and shave her face. It was so much harder trying to shave her face because her skin was nothing like my own. I had to stretch her skin out so the blade on the bic razor could do its job. I must of looked confused or scared because she got up and snatched the razor from me with her fragile shaky hand.
"I can do this myself!" she yelled. Well, it wasn't really a yell but
I guess in elderly language it could of been a yell.
She began to shave her face as I looked at her dumbfounded. I felt really bad letting her shave because she couldn't stop shaking. She pressed the razor to her face and starting shaving away. I felt sick to my stomach as she continued. It was that weird feeling like when you see someone shave in the bathroom in those movies and then they cute themselves. This poor little lady was gashing her face up and I just continued to watch.
"You sure you don't need me to help?" I asked as I stared at the live plastic surgery that was going on.
" I do this all the time" she replied still shaving, or should I say slicing.
It was pretty gross to watch. I did what I would do if it were me and wet toilet paper and put them on the cuts. She eventually finished, Thank God. I waved her goodbye and couldn't help but giggle on the way out. She has so much toilet paper on her face, poor thing.
I told the head nurse what happened and she explained to me what Parkinson's Disease was. I felt like an ass.