I’m sure in the light of day, this facility is charming. I can’t quite remember the impression I had of the building in which I work during my two day orientation, which took place in the bright sunshiney hours. The relief and excitement I felt about the new job opportunity dimmed my keen powers of observation; the same Sherlock Holmes level of visual acuity that prevents me from getting into the wrong car and trying to start it more than twice a week. So I can’t say for certain that in daylight it’s a charming, lovely place. I can only assume. At night, however, there is no more fitting a descriptor than “creeptastic”.
Let’s start with the huge portrait of an incredibly stern looking man above the fireplace. His eyes seem to follow you everywhere and then there are the clown pictures and blood red carpets and creaks in the floor and the overabundance of wind chimes…all of which may add whimsy and class to the joint in the day, but at night? No. It feels like the environment of a stereotypical horror movie that would be panned for being too predictable.
I say this with great affection. It’s exactly the sort of strange and surreal experience that I’ve come to appreciate in my life. It’s anything but ordinary but after this weeks stretch on memory care, I realized that buildings are not the only things haunted at night and there is only so much I can do to chase away another person’s inner demons.
It makes sense, really. When does my mind spin the most, picking apart the day and chasing my own imaginary fears? When is my own anxiety at its peak if I had a rough day? Right before bed. And if I can’t sleep? Forget about it. My mind runs wild. Why would I expect any different from those in my care?
At night in the quiet, dimly lit halls of the memory care unit, my night owls pace. Sometimes they are just confused about the time. That is easy to redirect usually. I explain to them my days get topsy turvey too, we share a chuckle, I tuck them in and off to sleep they go. I can do that all night without losing patience. No, it’s the other situations that get to me.
I call them the “night dreads”. When one of my folks has a rough night, it’s very different than what I experienced when I worked the day shifts. Sure, there was any number of challenging behaviors and there was less time to redirect in the day but it was different. Maybe because there were more people around and the extra stimulation kept them more alert. They seemed less…haunted. Nightmares can be hard to shake off. A vivid enough one can muddy my perspective for awhile but when I’m awake, I’m awake. This is not how it is for my residents. A nightmare will shake them to their core. They don’t always understand the difference between their dreams and waking life. Often they will wander up and down the halls, looking for lost loved ones. Where is my mother? Where is my love?…letting them know they aren’t alone and are safe seems to help. I put them back to bed and sit with them for awhile. Sometimes I sing quietly. I make certain that the bathroom light is on.
More often than not, I will be repeating that throughout the night but each episode seems to be just a little easier. Each time the resident seems a little less scared. Usually, right as the sun is coming up, they are able to rest more deeply. Those nights are the hardest; the ones when I can’t chase away the ghosts for them, I can only put them at bay. They leave me exhausted, sad and a little scared at the idea of anyone having to live through the night dreads and little frustrated that the best I can do is walk with them through it.
Thankfully, tonight was free of that. Tonight there was mostly laughter. I have a resident who without fail leaves his room wearing the oddest combinations of clothing: long johns with a back brace and a red ladies hat with a purple flower (no telling where he picked that one up) was today’s fashion choice.
“Is is time for coffee?” I managed to keep a straight face for five seconds when I saw his get up.
“No, buddy. It’s 3:00 in the morning.”
“Ok. I’m going back to bed then. Don’t forget me in the morning!”, he called over his shoulder.
“Never, my friend.”, I assured him. You know what? Today, I’m going to make a conscious effort to see how this place looks in the sun. Most things are clearer in the light of day.
I felt all my energy drain quickly as I punched out at the end of my shift. I was thoroughly enjoying my transfer back into facilities and I relished the challenge of working third shift as I do all new experiences in this field. Even so, there is a marked difference between my ability to push through my new hours on the clock and my hours off.
I’m on work mode when I clock in for the night. Everything falls away except my enthusiasm for this new opportunity and my desire to do the best job I possibly can. I’m not bothered by sleepiness and I have never been bored on the floor. Even at three in the morning, there is always something to do. I spend the periods of downtime getting to know the layout of the gigantic facility, acquainting myself to the residents who are night owls and occasionally getting some writing in. Clocking out is an entirely different story. Exhaustion that I didn’t feel on the clock falls upon me as I walk out after my shift, squinting my eyes against the harsh sunlight that slices sharply through the mental fog in which I am suddenly enveloped.
Why won’t my car start?! Oh. Because I’m trying to put the key fob into an ignition switch that doesn’t exist. What day is it?! Come on Alice, you can do this. Two days ago, you were volunteering at the behavioral health center. You do that Saturday’s. That makes today Monday. Monday…what am I supposed to do Monday’s? Should I sleep now or push through until this afternoon and sleep then? Or maybe I’ll sleep a few hours now and a few hours later?…I have never thought so much about sleep in my life. It’s not rocket science. I should be able to figure this out!
And difficulty with sleep and keeping track of the days was just the start. My emotions off the clock have been haywire. Like the worst case of PMS ever. One minute I’m fine and the next I am completely convinced that I am ill suited to handle even the most basic life events. When should I eat? Brush my teeth? Shower?…it’s topsy turvy world! And then there’s the anxiety and disorientation that comes from waking up at four in the afternoon to start your day. While I wouldn’t go so far as to call it a panic attack, those first few moments of wakefulness haven’t been so pleasant.
After I finished my first week, it
occurred to me that those living with dementia or Alzheimer’s exist in a much more severe and progressive version of this state of vagueness. That awareness stopped me in my tracks and I was filled once again with admiration at the strength and courage it takes for them to walk through each day. I know it even if they don’t. So I decided to employ what I like to call the three “C”‘s on myself much the same way I do when I work on the memory care unit. Consistency- decide on a sleep schedule and stick with it. Schedule outside events and social interactions around it. I’m still working on that one but I feel good just having that plan in place. Calm- recognize that my change in sleep patterns is going to have an emotional and physiological impact on me. Realize that feelings are not facts and this will improve with time. Compassion- go easy on myself. Practice self care and if occasionally I have to have an off the clock melt down, allow it to happen rather than repress it.
It is getting better. I am actually adjusting faster than I expected. My head feels less muddy day by day and there is something special about working when the world is asleep. Third shift has challenges that I didn’t expect and it isn’t the cakewalk I believed it to be when I was working first shift for all those years. But I really like it. In time, I think I will love it. And I am already learning from it.