Narrative Essay On Wet Socks

Wet Socks and the Honor of Being Tolerated On the first day of my clinicals for my certification as a Nurses Aid, an older nurse who had been working at this care center for almost twelve years, looked my group in the eyes and with the least emotion possible told us “The people here are going to die, so do yourself a favor and don’t get too attached.”. I know that’s probably the worst thing a nurse working in an old person’s home could say to a group of wide eyed, excited, new CNAs but I never took it to heart. After a week of working there the rumors I heard about the nurse staff and the residents had me reconsidering my choice. This was my senior year of high school, possibly the most emotional, confusing, and fast paced year of my life and I was spending it working with people

After I walked in and heard his speech about what he liked and didn’t like, I tried to go about my normal routine and started his vitals. About ten seconds into taking his pulse he dumped his water glass on my shoes claiming I was “squeezing his wrist with the intent to break it.”. I spent the rest of the day listening to the sound of my wet feet sloshing as I walked. Even after my failed attempt at taking his vitals since he was my last patient of the day I was the lucky CNA responsible for taking him to physical therapy. I walked in and explained to him I was going to help him into his wheel chair and then take him down the hall to PT. He of course made everything a struggle. He refused to put on his shoes and tried pegging me in the head with one, he said about a dozen curse words and told me I was an awful person just like the rest of the staff. As I took him down the hall he kept putting on the breaks to his wheel chair and yelling awful things at me each time I took the breaks off. What should have taken me five minutes took twenty and ended with the Therapist on staff having a foam roller thrown in his