Welcome to Mums Advice

Tag: worker

  • So Care Workers Don’t Deserve More Than Minimum Wage

    Couldn’t have put it better myself ❤️❤️❤️

    So care workers don’t deserve more than minimum wage because they “only sit around and make cups of tea for people” ?!?!? I can give you a list off the top of my head to show what care workers actually have to do, and I can bet it’s not even half of it.

    1) Washes

    2) Showers/baths

    3) Dressing

    4)Shaving

    5) Apply creams

    6) Brushing hair/teeth

    7)Changing incontinence pads

    8)Emotional support when they’re sad

    9)Giving them company, sometimes we’re the only people they see all day

    10)Giving medication, even the likes of controlled drugs (doing a nurses job on minimum wage

    11)Hoists, stand aids, getting the person from A to B

    12) Reassure them when they’re frightened, calming them down when they’re irritated

    13) Cleaning their homes

    14) Take them out to socialise

    15) Shopping calls

    16) Chase up medication

    17) Call GP’s when new medication/cream may be needed

    18)Arrange appointments

    19) Make their meals and drinks

    20) Catheter care

    21)Stoma care

    22) Answer all their emergency response calls

    23) Handle their finances, in some cases

    24) Remain calm and professional when they’re hurling verbal and sometimes physical abuse at you

    25) Apologise when they insult the care staff, even though it’s not our fault

    26) Take them to the hospital when needed

    27) Toilet calls

    28) Feeding them

    29) Turning them onto each side if bed ridden, to avoid sores

    30) Battling with 111 and Doctors when you know they need to be checked over

    31) Dementia care

    32) Alzheimers care

    33) Parkinsons care

    34) Many various illnesses and disease care

    35) End of life care

    36) Supporting families, reassuring them and keeping them informed of everything happening with their relative

    37) Dealing with family complaints and apologising even though the situation was often 99% out of your control

    38) Pushing people in wheelchairs, along with all their shopping bags when they’re out

    39) Acting fast when someone shows symptoms of a stroke, heart attack, fits, various other conditions

    40) Keeping people calm when they have fell, assuring them that help is on the way and they need to lay still as possible

    41) Recognising when the person you visit numerous times a week is acting out of sorts. Acting upon it and seeking advice because you KNOW that’s not their usual self.

    42) Having the patient of a saint. We’re busy, but we don’t and can’t rush. We go at their pace. Always

    43) Washing and drying, folding and ironing, putting away clothes

    44) Making sure they’re wearing their emergency help button, so that you’re confident they can press it should they need help once you’re gone. It’s not always easy. People can refuse, or throw it away.

    45) When a person won’t take medication they critically need, you have no solution, but you need to BE that solution. Figure out ways you can get them to converse with you and listen, so they will take the tablets that will keep their health stable.

    46) We’re sometimes verbally and physically abused. We get called all the names under the sun, sometimes we get punched, slapped, kicked and bit, they pull our hair or lash out. It’s not always their fault, illnesses can cause this behaviour. We just have to remove ourselves from the environment and report.

    47) We can go hours with no break

    48) Sometimes we have to hold our bladder for 2+ hours because we literally don’t have time for the toilet

    49) Our calls list is full, but someone calls for help, we need to find ways we can get to them as well as doing everything else we need to do

    50) We don’t complain. Our job is hard. Sometimes we laugh, sometimes we’re reduced to tears. We do it all for minimum wage, we know we deserve so much more, but we still do it anyway. Because we are care workers, and we genuinely do care 💗💗

  • The Aged Care Worker-A Day In The Life Of

    Hate hearing cant be that hard cleaning bums.

    The Aged Care Worker’ – a day in the life of…

    It’s 630am and my shift begins. Residents breakfast time is 8am. That’s 90 minutes. By 8am, eleven of my 24 residents are expecting to be sitting in the dining room washed, dressed and ready for their meal.

    Let’s break that down. That’s 8 minutes and 18 seconds per resident! In 8 minutes, I must use a lifter to transfer each resident from their bed to the toilet, from the toilet to the shower, wash them, shave them, dry them, moisturise them, dress them, comb their hair, brush their teeth, apply hearing aids, dress their wounds, transfer them to a wheelchair, tidy their room, make their bed, empty their bin and wheel them to the dining room. 8 minutes!

    Meanwhile, in their bedrooms, the other 13 residents lay waiting for their meal. These residents cannot walk, cannot communicate, cannot feed themselves. They require spoon feeding, can only drink through a straw, and have difficulty swallowing. These residents have not yet been touched since the shift began, because the residents with the verbal and physical behaviours take priority. They have not yet been cared for, because in a ward of 24 high care residents, 4 nurses can only do so much.

    Now it’s 9am, also known as code brown o’clock. 24 residents, and you better believe they all want the toilet at once. As one nurse does the medication round, and another collects the breakfast trays, the remaining two are running, answering multiple buzzers and toileting several residents at a time. One resident is incontinent. You’ve already showered her this morning, but as you follow the trail of poo from the dining room to her bedroom, you realise she will be needing another shower, and pronto!

    It’s now 9:30am. You’re supposed to take your tea break. But you don’t. Or you do, and feel guilty as you scull your cup of cold tea and think about the 13 residents still laying in bed in last nights pad, unable to buzz for assistance.

    Back to it now. You didn’t get to use the toilet, there wasn’t time.

    It’s 9:40am. All personal care would ideally be completed by 11am, leaving just enough time to start preparing for lunch. That leaves 6 minutes and 15 seconds per resident to attend to their personal hygiene. This of course is best case scenario, but throw in a fall, a broken hip, a skin tear, a death, a vomit, an upset visitor, or an accidental poop of the pants, and the time left for each resident is shortened.

    It’s now 11am. You have not done a single note of paperwork. You’ll be in trouble for that, paperwork = funding! You try to type your way though chart after chart, but the buzzers never stop, the phone is always ringing.

    The activity hall calls to tell you your residents have finished playing bingo and are ready to be picked up.

    The hairdresser calls from the office asking you to bring residents over for their appointments. And somewhere amongst it all, the nurses are trying to fit in their lunch breaks.

    It’s 12pm now. Lunchtime. One nurse delivers yet another round of meds, one is feeding the bed-ridden residents, while the third is supervising those in the dining room. 2 residents are fighting over who got the most ice cream, another is choking on her drink because she refuses to have thickened fluids. Another is taking the chewed up food from her mouth and feeding it to a fellow resident who is asleep at the table with her mouth open.

    You still haven’t gotten to the paperwork.

    It’s 12:30pm now, and so begins the busiest hour of the shift. 24 residents all to be toileted, repositioned, checked for pressure sores, or returned to bed. An hour is not enough to get this round done, but it has to be. Two staff are going home at 1pm, and the other at 2. After that, you’re on your own.

    Now it’s 2:45pm. You should be clocking off in 15 minutes! But who are you kidding! You can’t leave until the paperwork’s done.

    Its 3:20pm. You’re in overtime. Unpaid overtime.

    As you type your notes, a resident is spilling his drink, straight down the front of his pants. You don’t see this, but his family do. They’ve arrived (yep, right now) for a visit. They do not see the spilled cup under the table, just the wet patch on his pants. They come charging in to speak to you, they use a stern and unimpressed tone. They lecture you about how it is not dignified for their father to be on display with soiled pants. You explain that you are sorry, and that it is in fact only water, but of course you will get him changed right away.

    The family did not see their father spit on you at 7am as you showered him. They didn’t see you massage dencorub gently into his sore knees to soothe the pain. They didn’t see you pick a flower to sit on his lap and cheer him up during breakfast. They didn’t see you encourage him to eat his lunch when he was reluctant to do so. They only saw this. This patch of water on his pants. And now the world is ending.

    LET ME SAY THIS LOUD FOR THE PEOPLE IN THE BACK!

    The media will have you believe that aged care workers are negligent, incompetent, and lacking in skills. Yes, there’s a few stinkers in the bunch, and that is 100% not okay. But you don’t see what goes on behind closed doors, so you are forced to believe only what the media portrays.

    They don’t see us hold the hands of a man with Parkinson’s to ease his shakes just for a moment. They don’t see us sing quietly to their favourite old song as we feed them breakfast. They don’t see us cry as we comb the hair of a resident who has just passed away, trying to make them look presentable for their family. They don’t see us go home as a broken shattered human who has seen more in one day than a lot of people will see ever!

    We are working harder than you know. And feeling like your best is just not good enough, sucks!

    We are not incapable, we are pressed for time! You only hear about the negatives, but please believe the majority of us have good hearts and look after and love your family members as our own 💖

    Sincerely,

    an exhausted care worker

  • A Story From A Child In Foster Care

    Life has been a bit not nice for me. I’ve not been the best bear I could be and things have been scary. My tummy bubbles have been very very big, my legs have done lots of running, my hands lots of hurting and my mouth saying not nice stuff.

    It’s been the summer holidays. I like the holidays usually as I get to do lots and lots of fun stuff with Kim and the others. We have been doing nice stuff and I have had some fun but there’s been something else happening for me as well. Something not fun. Not nice. Something I didn’t know what to do with.

    I still see mummy and my brothers. We have contact. Sometimes mummy doesn’t come and then I feel sad because I think she doesn’t like me anymore or she’s poorly – she used to get poorly a lot when she had her friends round and they did drinking and some other bad stuff and fighting. Mummy has been coming to contact in the summer and in the holidays we get to spend longer with her. We go to the family centre with the big garden. Sometimes me and mummy can talk by ourselves when the supervisor is on the other side of the garden.

    We was playing football with my brothers. Then they wanted to go on the climbing frame. I was too hot so sat on the grass. Mummy sat with me. I thought it was going to be lovely to be with her but then she said it. Mummy said I was going to live back at home with her. She was going to court to get me back. She was going to tell them that the social

    workers was telling lies. That I had been telling lies about the man in my room. And because I was a liar Kim didn’t want me living in her house so that’s the plan. I am going to live back with mummy as soon as the court says so BUT I mustn’t tell anyone because social will make up more lies.

    All my happy went in that minute. Every thing changed for me. I’ve been living with Kim for a fair time now and really loved it there. I always felt safe there. I always had food and toys and clothes and my comfy bed. And I was a big enough bear now to know I didn’t get that at mummy’s. My world was like a big balloon that had just gone pop.

    I went back to Kim’s from contact. It was Kims now, not home. Mummy’s was going to be home, a home I feared, a home full of noise and mess. A home without lights, cold, dirty. A home with no clean clothes, no nice comfy bed, no toys. The place I had come from. Somewhere I didn’t want to go back to. They’d told me I wouldn’t have to go back there. Kim. The court people. The social worker. Mummy was right. They had been telling lies. They said I wasn’t going home and mummy said I am when she’s been to court. I had to show them this little bear knew they were lying.

    And show them I did. I was cross. I did everything I could think of to show them what happens when this little bear wasn’t happy. I ran away. I broke things. I kicked Kim. I tore my books up. I started to swear again. If they’d lied to me I’d lie back. I told them it wasn’t me that put the remote in the toilet. I told them it wasn’t me that wrote swear words on the wall. I told them I hated them. That was my biggest lie. Inside I didn’t hate them. I loved them but couldn’t understand why they’d lied to me and why I was having to go back to mummy’s house.

    I carried on like this for a good while. I was going to take charge here and make them hate me like I hated them. My comfy bed was next. I cut my duvet. Cut my pillow. I wasn’t having a comfy bed at mummy’s house so I needed to remember what it was like not having one. I’d better get used to it. Kim caught me. Scissors in hand and cut pillow by my side. I wasn’t prepared for what happened next.

    Did the shouting come? No. Did the beating come? No. Did the throwing things around the room come? No. Did the threat of no dinners come? No. Did the hitting of walls or door come? No. Did the being called all the horrid names on the planet start? No. Did the pushing and shoving start? No. No they didn’t. That’s what happens at mummy’s house not Kim’s.

    Did I start to feel really scared? No. Did I wet myself in fear? No. Did I throw the scissors? No. Did I shout and swear? No. Did I try to run? No. Did I cower in the corner? No. They were things that happened in mummy’s house too. So now I’m really really confused. They want to take me away from my safe place to put me back in mummy’s house. How can that be an okay thing to do?

    And do you know? I think Kim could see what I was feeling inside. I think she could see I was angry about things – she didn’t know what. But more so I think she could see that underneath this cross angry bear face who said he hated everyone, there was a little bear who felt so frightened, confused and lonely and in desperate need of a tight squeezy hug. A little bear who had so much to say but not the words to say it. A little bear whose world had drastically changed by those few words from his mummy’s mouth – you’re coming back home.

    Kim sat next to me and took the scissors from my hand. I leant into her like I do when I need a hug and she cuddled me. She cuddled me so tight I knew I was safe. And then I cried. I cried and cried and cried. And then I told her what mummy said. And do you know as I was telling Kim I knew it was mummy that wasn’t telling me the right things. I’ve grown enough to know what happened at home wasn’t how little bears are meant to live. But after all I’d done these last few weeks maybe that was how I deserved to live?

    Kim just held me and let me cry away. I talked and talked in my crying. I don’t know how Kim could understand me but she did. When I was all cried out Kim talked back to me. She told me that she felt mummy had got things a bit muddled. How Kim and the social workers hadn’t lied to me. That I wasn’t going to go back to live at mummy’s. Kim and the police and everyone knew I wasn’t lying about the man in my room. They’d all seen what mummy’s house was like. My brothers had all said the same thing and they did believe us. Kim does want me to live with her till I’m a grown up bear. She was sorry that mummy had made me so very scared and mummy was wrong to say such things. My social worker came out to see me and told me just the same as Kim. That helped calm my tummy bubbles big time! They are going to talk to mummy about it and how it made me feel. They said sometimes mummies will say these things to stop themselves feeling so bad but they don’t think how it makes the children feel. Mummy isn’t going to be in trouble which is good because I don’t want that, but they want mummy to think about what she says. Kim used to say that to me lots – I used to say unkind things but didn’t think how they made people feel, so I know what the social worker means.

    I’m feeling safe again now. Happy and so so glad I’ve still got my comfy bed. Kim got me a new duvet and pillow but I did have to use some of my money to help buy it. I don’t mind. Because I know when I say home it’s where I live now and that’s just how I like it!

    #bearincare

    #fosteringchangeslives

    www.essexadoptionandfostering.co.uk/fostering

    Full credit: https://www.facebook.com/Robbie-a-bear-in-foster-care-his-story

  • As A Carer You Will Instantly Judge Me

    As a Carer you’ll watch me do things and instantly judge me for them, you’ll look down your nose and see me as nothing more than someone who deals with other people’s body fluids and makes cups of tea.

    You’ll wonder why I can walk out of a room and instantly into another, forgetting that I may have promised your relative a blanket or a cup of water because I was “distracted” by someone else.

    You’ll wonder why I’ve walked past your relatives room and not entered theirs, you’ll wonder why some people are attended to sooner and you’ll curse my name under your breath as they wait.

    You’ll wonder how I seem to have time to sit down and write and wonder why I cannot fix things immediately.

    You’ll wonder how, under any circumstance, I could be sharing a smile or a laugh with a co-worker as if laughter has no place.

    As I walk in for my shift, you’ll look at me, your eyes saying that you want me to help and you’ll wonder why I can’t just make that happen.

    But here’s what, if you’re very lucky, you’ll never see.

    You’ll never see me lose. You’ll never see me take off my sweaty gloves and say a goodbye to someone I’ve cared for for months or even years

    You’ll never see the weight that we carry home. For minutes or hours, days, or weeks, or even lifetimes.

    You’ll never see our children’s faces as we kiss them goodbye on Christmas morning so that we can make it a special day for your family member.

    You’ll never see the deep breath we take as we walk into a room to prepare a loved one before family enter to say their last goodbye.

    You’ll never see our hearts ache with the pain for those we have nursed and passed and those that continue to battle.

    You’ll never see our minds as they tirelessly over think and overwork scenarios, wondering how or if we could do something better next time.

    You’ll never see us break the news that someone’s husband or wife, that they have been married to for 50 plus years has died because they have forgotten again, you’ll never see us comfort them as they cry.

    And for the most part, I’m okay that you can’t see those things. It’s my job to do, my burden to carry, and my labor of love and service so that you don’t have to, so that the relationship you have remains as it always has been, so that you don’t have to become their Carer. I’ll take on that role for you.

    However, I’ll be honest, there are times that I wish you could understand the alternative to your relative that’s waiting. There are times I wish you understood the difference between urgency and emergency. And there are certainly times that I wish I could be transparent enough to tell you when your relative dies it breaks our hearts too.

    If you know, or love a Carer please do me a favor and just give them a hug. Or maybe a fist bump if hugging isn’t their thing, or maybe even just a nod of approval but more anything please remember we’re more than just bottom cleaners and tea makers.

    We’re working as hard and as fast as we can, and most days, it’s never enough.”

    Original source unknown

  • Just A Carer That’s What People Think Of Me

    Just a carer?

    I am just a carer

    That’s what people think of me,

    It isn’t very pleasant,

    They’ve seen it on TV.

    Blood and guts and vomit

    Sickness and diarrhoea.

    They wouldn’t want to do it,

    It isn’t a career.

    But I have been a carer

    Since the day that I left school.

    I haven’t been to college,

    But I’m really not a fool.

    Caring for the elderly

    Is more than making tea.

    It needs a special person,

    And I know this is for me.

    When you have dementia,

    when you’re getting old.

    It can be very lonely,

    When you’re left out in the cold.

    It needs a special person,

    One who really cares.

    One who lights the room up,

    When all around are stares.

    Someone very patient,

    Someone very kind.

    Someone who will lead you

    When you’re going blind.

    A wealth of understanding

    And time to listen too.

    You won’t be able to do it,

    If all you think about is you.

    The job is quite a privilege

    That others do not see.

    When you finish work today,

    Did you think of me?

    Did you know I sat with

    Someone taking their last breath?

    Do you know how precious those moments before death?

    Do you know how hard it is

    To say goodbye and then,

    Go and help the other folk

    And do it all again?

    Do you know how good it is

    When you get a smile,

    From someone who is down and low

    When you’ve gone the extra mile?

    Caring is a way of life

    Judge us if you must

    But we are not just carers

    We are magic fairy dust!

    To share your story or to raise awareness of any topic or to ask us to do so on your behalf, or to find out our advertising prices then please send us an email to mumsadviceltd@outlook.com