I love people.
For example:
Today at work, I got called into one of the rooms. The patient was in his bathroom with the physical therapist. He had just pooped everywhere and the PT basically had no idea how to handle it. I entered, armed with a handful of washcloths and cleansing spray. (Keep in mind, the bathroom is about two-and-a-half feet wide by four feet long--just barely big enough for a sink and toilet with a bit of standing room. It is not by any means designed to be large enough for three adults and a walker.) Our cute little (but not) patient had tried to wipe himself, but the toilet paper had failed (it was single-ply). Because of this, he resorted to his hand. That's right: his hand.
After a bit of unintentional ring-around-the-rosy-ing, I got into the far corner, the PT stood in front of the patient, and latex-free gloves protected us from misplaced feces. Phew. With a bit of encouragement and muscle, we got the patient to stand--but only halfway. You see, his oxygen tube (forgot to mention the oxygen tank that was in the bathroom, too!) had gotten stuck around his back and under the toilet seat. When he tried to stand, he got partially hung by a partially poopy plastic tube. The PT held him in a somewhat-seated-but-off-the-seat position while I wiped the tubing and untangled him. Yay! We finally got our friend to stand.
I wiped him down. However, his poop-covered hands were still grasping the walker for dear life. There was no room for him to move closer to the sink, so I washed his hands with a few washcloths and lots of soap. While drying his hands off, I realized we were still missing something: Depends. And believe me when I say that his guy depends on Depends. (Well, we depend on them to make our job easier.) I slid between the walker, PT, and the doorway to grab a clean Depends. Got one. Slid back in. Whew.
There was no room to bend over, so I sat in an awkward squatting position with my back against the wall (and my face definitely popping my patient's personal bubble, albeit completely unintentionally, people!!!). I got one side around him. I bent over the still-full toilet with the back of my ankles against one wall and one shoulder supporting my weight against the opposite wall. Somehow I managed to get the other side around him and his gown re-tied. The PT helped him shuffle out of the bathroom and I was left laughing hysterically. Whew.
And when I got to camp, my sister's campers tried to provide matchmaking skills for two lifeguards (who happen to be brother and sister). One of them looked at me and said, "If you could choose, how would you die?" and proceeded to list off my options: drowning (which could potentially happen, with them around!), being stabbed, being shot, or being burned. I told her I'd rather stay alive, but she poked me in the stomach until I said, "Okay! I'd rather be shot!"
This, my friends, is why I love people.
