Isms

I love the elderly people who I worked with dearly. The day that I decide to leave this place will be a very sad day; they are a joy to work with nearly every day and I can only hope that if I'm ever 95-years-old (oh please, for the love of all, DON'T let me be 95-years-old) that I will be just as kind and patient. 

I'm not sure if it's the sunshine or the fact that the orange jello seems to be a little orangier, but lately the dementia population has been on a roll lately. Here are a couple of quotes that have been keeping us quite entertained over the past few weeks:

"Hey, are you going to the party?" 

"Your hair--it's awful. Oh gosh, it just looks terrible!"

"Were you part of the group that tricked me into going to lunch? Good, because I would've skinned you."

"I worry about that Charlie. He's been throwing up all day. When is he going to get better?"

"Oh that Jimmy. He's such a trouble-maker. I worry about that boy." 

"If you try to wheel me back into my room I'll run you over." 

"Do you have nurses down there that sit on things? Good, that's what I thought."

"When's breakfast? Not for another 10 hours? Oh gosh, what are we going to do?"

"I don't need a sleeping pill. I took one last night and I slept fine." 

"There are Chinese people coming in through my window. How are they doing that?!"

"It's OK that you don't understand. You're not educated like me."

"Didn't your mother teach you any manners?" 

"My arm hurts. Just put a piece of tape on it....Ok, that feels much better." 

"I'm out of Kleenex boxes. When is somebody going to die so I can take theirs?"

I should get a raise for having to keep it together so often. I'm a true professional.