Don't Worry; I'm a Professional

You know who they are. They are not mighty in number but plenteous enough to spot any time you leave the house. They are “put together”. Makeup and hair just so. Outfit coordinated and current. And although I imagine looking professional must involve a lot of time and work, not a drop of perspiration can be seen, nor wrinkle of worry on forehead. I do admire these folks. They really have it going on.

As I ponder attaining such standing, I realize I believed at some point in my “career of life” I would somehow gain a title, certificate, diploma or something that confirmed I had made it. Such has not been the case despite decades of laboring in the Social Class of Wage-Earners.

Recently all that changed. I actually earned the title of CNA and Home Health Aide. Certainly not prestigious in the eyes of those with more formal letters after their name, but I can allow a bit of pride in my new professional status. Let me paint a few scenarios for you to relay how this new station in life is working for me. 

First Impressions

“Good morning!” I call out cheerily from the driveway. I have arrived right on time to a client’s abode.

“No! No thank you! I don’t need any help. I’ll be right there.” I reply with a frozen smile on my face.

I have been caught in a bit of a predicament. I’m sprawled out in the driveway, nurse bag on shoulder, legs all akimbo, looking for all the world like Bambi’s first time on ice. Snow quickly seeping through the seat of my pants. First impressions and all that jazz! Don’t worry, I’m a professional. I got this!

Unmentionables

Respectfully, we professionals do not move or even touch certain personal items. The neatly folded clean underpants towering precariously beside the sink? Those are just going to stay there; I don’t need to move them. I can clean around them. And so I do. Until the bucket I am attempting to fill with clean water is misjudged in height. As I tip it under the faucet to remove it from the sink, water escapes. Not IN the sink - that would be far too handy. Oh, no, it races across the counter straight for the stack of silky unmentionables!! In my attempt to secure the wayward bucket of water and save myself from an embarrassing confession, water floods the counter and the tower of underthings topple like a waterfall over the edge and all over the floor. Things are going well. 

A Continuous Hardship

Surprisingly the most difficult part of my professional career has been figuring out everyone’s vacuums. Once I finally get the thing running there is always some disaster waiting for me right around the corner. From blowing fuses due to plugging into the “wrong” outlets, to never being able to correctly judge exactly how close I can get to certain objects, the struggle is real. How often I find my heart racing as a wheezing vacuum forces me to brace myself between it and the object (picture long flowing curtains) being sucked into extinction!!

Sheepishly, I will admit, I just don’t learn. One place in particular. I motor my way into the laundry room, vacuum behind the door and then make my way closer to the back door feeling accomplished in my profession as dust and dog hair meet their maker. There is an ironing board resting nonchalantly on its hook. I know it’s there. We wrestle every time we meet. You know that string that tightens the iron cover on the board? Ya, well, I haven’t quite figured out how many centimeters I can get to it before that dang vacuum throws all it’s worth into sucking up the complete ironing board!! What a racket! Every. Single. Time. 

On more than one occasion I have had to throw a positive spin on why a client’s bedcover no longer reaches the floor. Or why the smooth binding of a bedspread is now looking like a retro fringe. I could offer my professional services to retrieve the remains from the belly of the beast and attempt repairs but usually it is wiser to embrace an entirely different conversation.

I fully expect to get a call one day from a concerned client looking for their small dog. No worries: I know exactly where to look!

This photo is not my own but fit perfectly for the purpose of the post. You can find this guy on instagram @frankbulldog

Safety First

Of course, safety is number one for both client and caregiver. Gloves are a professional’s best friend.  I say “best friend” but then there is the downside to having such a "friend". Here is a recap of my latest mishap:

I am handing articles of clothing to an elderly gentleman. All the while I keep up an easy conversation about happenings in the world and the crazy weather we have been experiencing. First the undershirt, then the button down, next come socks. Things are going marvelously well. I prepare the jeans before I hand them off. Making sure the zipper is open is just one of the small ways a professional can make the dressing process less frustrating for the aging demographic. Much to my chagrin, mid unzipping the fingertip of my glove manages to get zipped in! Without making a big deal of it I work the zipper as best I can a little up, a little down in order to free my finger but it is stuck fast. I can’t help but feel a wee rise of panic, so I pull the zipper a little harder and somehow catch a fingertip on my other glove! Now I am laughing and attempting to relay the “funny” story to my client who merely looks at me like I am an idiot and truly he just wants his pants - preferably minus the gloves! 

The Wrap Up