Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)
Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.
This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.
Friday, January 14, 2005
Her Job--Part I
Some of you have asked how Miss Reba's job has been going. Recall that before Christmas she began a job at a nursing home as the director of social services--in a nice stroke of good fortune, this is quite a bump for her. She went from something of a heavily clerical, "counselor"-type position to one that is considered equivalent to a department head. Of course, her department is just one person--her--but it's still considered a managerial position. And for once, her lack of a bachelor's degree didn't hinder her; since the home is less than 120 beds, her position does not require a degreed social worker.
And that is what she does--something of an ombudswoman for the residents, making sure their needs are being met, making sure their families are satisfied, helping them get to their doctor's offices, assessing their basic mental abilities and faculties, seeing to it that they understand about legal matters regarding their stay, helping them order various sundries and toiletries--a little bit of everything. Kinda like being a mama, in a way.
She certainly has the demeanor for the job. It requires a lot of patience, and a lot of thinking-on-the-fly problem solving. And a pretty thick skin for dealing with older people who might not be all there mentally, or with their kids or grandkids, who might not be quite so patient themselves. So far, she seems to enjoy what she's doing, in spite of the job being in a place that's not where most folks would really like to be. But, she likes helping, and likes people.
Even the resident she visited the other day.
She had to update his (a double leg amputee well into his 90s) information and make sure he understood what his care situation was, so she had to do a short interview with him. During the questions, she said he mostly just grunted or mumbled short answers. Finishing up, she told him to have a good day and that she'd come see him again soon and walked to the door. He mumbled something else, which she did quite hear. She paused at the door, "I'm sorry, Mr. X (not his real name, by the way), but I couldn't hear you."
"I says, 'YOU GOTTA NICE BOTTOM!'"
"Well, okay then, Mr. X--you have a nice day, then!"
She left quickly so she could go back to her office and laugh for a while.
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