First Day

First day, first client.

She's a lovely lady, if a bit antsy.  She wants OUT, but I can't take her.  She likes to play games and talks about her family. Her son takes care of her basic needs and does a really good job of it.

I feel like a fraud, showing up in scrubs.  I am not a medical person.  I know nothing about it. I don't WANT to learn it.  Some people can, some people can't.  I can't. I can give help.  I can be sociable and understanding.  I can dust and run errands.  I can fix meals and paint nails.  I can listen to her talk.  I am uncomfortable taking care of showers, and when her son mentioned Depends, I almost freaked out. I can't do that.

I don't know what made me think I could be a caregiver.

I'm not giving up. I'll get to know somebody else this week, and perhaps I will find that I do have a niche in this profession.  The scrubs are an excuse, I know.

I am blaming pink and black scrubs for my insecurity.  They are just a uniform that someone somewhere decided was an easy-care, comfortable alternative to street clothes.  I am uncomfortable with being responsible for another person, not really the clothes. If I had to wear a silly hat it would be the same thing.

See, I am a person whose confidence comes from the way I am dressed.  I don't feel talented. I feel inadequate.  I listened to all the gals at training with all of their knowledge and experience.  I have none of that.  I feel like once again I am stupid, or at the least woefully unprepared.  I may be in over my head. I am letting perma-press, shapeless clothes dictate who I am instead of letting what I am doing be the focus.

You know, I like people, especially older people.  The ladies at the nursing home liked me.  I did little things that gave them a spark of life.  I listened to their ramblings, met their families.  I could have been a recreational director if I could have received a degree locally. I can do that kind of thing.  This frightens me.

I'm  meandering, aren't I?

I'm a little bit discombobulated.  I want to help somebody.  I want to give.  I want to do the fun, fulfilling stuff.  I will give it a month, maybe two.  Then I will look back at these words and I will have a better idea if this is what I am meant to do for another  year and five months, two days and sixteen hours.

First day, first client, first impressions.  I need a change of attitude, not a change of clothes.